thollandneedy

[thollandneedy]

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ★ P. Parker

*inspired by BODYGUARD by Beyoncé*

Pairing: Peter Parker x black!reader, Peter Parker x stripper!reader

Summary: Just when he had given up any hope of finding you again, Peter stumbles upon his former girlfriend moonlighting as a dancer in Queens' most popular gentlemens club "Star City"-- his only concern, the fact that you don't remember his existence or history.

Warnings: 18+ only, adult themes, sexual themes, fluff, angst, mentions of guns and gun violence, language, this fic in no way romanticizes or glamourizes strip clubs or dancing - this fic also in no way shames or demeans strip clubs or dancing, No Way Home Spoilers even tho the movie been out a good minute, MINORS DNI

Taglist: @143amberrose @disaster-rose @aiianovna @charmed-asylum @manuosorioh @roserrys @deansbbysblog @caitsymichelle13 @snuggleducky

---

Peter Parker craved a sense of normalcy following the erasure of his existence.

He could go anywhere in the world and be anyone he wanted to be, but, the familiarity of Spider-Man kept him shackled to his neighborhood like a ball and chain. The world moved on without him, not the friendly neighborhood spider, but Peter was of no use to anyone in his day-to-day life. In fact, he had no one. The only comfort he held at night was the existence of his hero alter ego and that it was now his only sense of home.

After nearly three years of trying to track you with no luck, he gave up the delusion of finding you and having you in his life again. The idea that you were out there somewhere without him haunted him at night. Darkness crept into his thoughts, wondering where you were and who you were with.

Even though you had no memories, he still held onto the idea of you. Every kiss, every hug, every laugh you two shared was all that he had left of you. He missed your voice so much, even when you two argued it was his favorite thing to hear. He missed the feeling of your body between his fingers, the pressure of your hips against his, the way you would moan in his ear.

They say time heals all wounds, but as life went on, his seemed to only grow deeper.

It was the Summer time when he heard a disturbance over the police radio system. It was 3am when the alert came through and woke him from his hour of sleep. It was already a difficult night for him, one of those days where the world felt like it was crumbling and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wanted to take a valium and be granted an ounce of relief, but, he was out of his prescription. By some twisted chance of fate or pure luck, he was awake and coherent enough to suit up and be on the scene within a few minutes.

The call came from a gentlemen’s club three blocks away from his apartment. Star City was known for its topless women, great food, and violence spiking during the warmer months. Anybody with any desire to live wouldn’t dare step foot within the club in the wee hours of the night.

Swinging through the city, Peter could see the small huddle of women surrounding a police car. He planted himself against a building, able to hide enough in the shadows and still detect what was happening.

“There were gunshots fired everywhere.” He heard a woman speak. In disbelief, he furrowed his brows. There was no way he was hearing this correctly. Looming closer, he was in the corner alley beside the scene. “He had too much to drink, that was obvious, but I didn’t think he would just flip out like that. He’s one of our best customers.”

It was you. Your voice was like the sweetest melody he had ever heard, even with its newfound Southern twang. He couldn’t begin to make sense of it all.

What were you doing here? How long had you been mere blocks away and he completely overlooked it?

He took in your appearance, your formerly blonde hair was now all brown and longer than he remembered. You wore a short, white satin backless dress that exposed the curve of your ass against the blue and red police lights. He watched you shift your weight on your clear pleaser heels. Throwing your hair behind your shoulder, he saw the pearl details running down your back and it connected to the skirt of your outfit.

“Thank you for your statement.” The policewoman nodded, writing the last of her notes in her notepad.

Before the woman could leave, you grabbed her wrist gently. “Is he going to be okay?” You asked. “I know Phil did something bad but he’s not normally like this. He’s a sweet guy, you know?”

“Ma’am,” The officer looked you up and down. “let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours as soon as we get things cleared here.” She gave you a nod, leaving the area to go speak with the other officers on the scene.

You felt self-conscious, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. “Bitch.” Peter heard you mutter under your breath.

He was in shock. You’d been so close to him. All of these nights he spent alone and helpless and you’d been here, working, unaware that he even existed. He felt his lips break out into a smile. A grin felt so foreign to him lately, genuine happiness was a rarity but you had brought that spark back into his life.

Now that he found you, Peter Parker would never let you go.

★

You wanted to call off tonight so badly, but, you couldn’t afford another low night.

After the disaster at Star City last night, the owner immediately made changes to keep the girls and his patrons safe. Eddie was a cool guy, kinda sweet for a club owner when they had the reputation of being monsters. At every team meeting, he would stress that this was supposed to be a fun experience for everyone, workers and guests alike, and he took pride in maintaining a safe work environment. The club was now crawling with security guards, doubled up from the regular amount that the club had. Some were dressed in normal clothes, some in all black to blend in with the ambiance. With the slight updates, Eddie hoped they all could recover from profits lost the night prior.

“How ya doin, Mel?” Big Al asked, taking a seat on the leather stool. He was a bouncer who started working at Star City about a month before you. He takes great care of everyone. He would walk the dancers to and from their cars, stand outside their private dance rooms, and even break up a few fights that could have turned ugly. Everybody loved him and he was one of the nice parts of this job.

You shrugged, stocking the bar with ice. “Still shaken up about yesterday. I know Eddie is freaking out about recovery tonight.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He says, shaking his head. “Of course the one night I had off this week and something happened.”

You wave him off. “There’s no way you could have known Al.”

“Well just know … I’m watching this place like a hawk tonight.” He insisted, getting up from his seat. Big Al gave you a small smile, returning back to his post as the shift was set to begin.

Saturday nights at Star City were a big hit for everyone. The club was at capacity by the time the clock struck 11 pm, men and women throwing dollar bills and unfazed by the incident that occurred the night before. You still had an hour behind the bar before you were expected to hit the stage for the last few hours of your shift. Your body was tired and run down, but, you had bills due and a boss who expected his Star Girl to bring in thousands. Sometimes you wonder is this is what you were destined to do in life. Maybe an alternate version of you somewhere was a doctor or a botanist, something cooler and safer than working as a dancer in a strip club.

You liked letting your mind wander, it helped you disassociate that this is your current reality, especially now that you had no backup plan after getting kicked out of school.

Watching the bar, you noticed a man sitting down at the far right corner. Your coworker was taking care of the left end of the now full bar, so you were able to turn your attention to the new customer. He took the black hood of his jacket off, revealing the face of a man who appeared like he did not belong. He was cautious with his surroundings, surveying the area before his brown eyes landed on you.

“Hey Honeybee, how ya doin’?” You asked him, your accent still trying to register with him.

His eyes went wide. “Oh! Um, I’m good. You?” He fumbled his words, already growing red in the face.

“I’m just fine, Sugar. What are we drinkin’ tonight?”

He thought about it momentarily. “Heineken Silver is fine.”

You fluffed your big hair, leaning against the bar and giving him a large smile. He seemed so out of place in a club like this. “Can I see your ID, Darlin?”

The man reached into his pocket, fishing out his wallet before handing you the plastic. “Do I really look that young?” He asked, making you laugh.

“You look lost.” You admitted. Squinting at the font, you read his name and birth year, mouth opening in shock. “Oh, our birthdays aren’t too far off, Peter. Yours is a week before mine.”

How badly he wanted to tell you that you used to celebrate them together all the time, ever since you were kids.

Passing him his ID, you rested your hands on your hips. “I see you’re from Queens, why have I never seen you round here before?”

“Clubs just uh … aren’t really my thing.” He let out a nervous laugh, blushing in your face. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” You reached under the bar, opening up the cooler that the beer rested in. You grabbed the bottle, cracking the top open before sliding it to him. “I think you’ll have a great time here in Star City.”

A man beside Peter, one of your newer clients, bumped into his shoulder. “Especially when she steps on that stage.” The older man laughed heartily, sliding you a tip for his drink earlier.

You bid him a thank you, tucking the twenty into the pocket of your booty shorts. Adjusting the strings of your top, you pulled it down lower, revealing more of your breasts in exchange for the tip.

Just barely hovering over your nipple, Peter noticed, was the small outline of a spider tattoo. A part of him permanently stamped on you. The brunette looked between you and the man, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re a dancer too?” He asked, intrigued.

You shrugged. “I leave no money on the table, Baby.” You laughed. “They don’t call me Money Mel for nothing.”

He knew that was a stage name. That now he had to be careful not to call you by your real one and freak you out. He could not stop staring at you, how much you appeared like his Y/N, but his absence in your life had changed so much. Where did this accent come from? How did you end up in a place like this? When had you accumulated all of these tattoos? At least your confidence had lasted through the spell, but, that seemed to be the only thing he recognized of you.

Peter’s big brown eyes would not leave you. You were used to men staring at your body but the intimacy of him looking into your eyes was too much. You broke from his gaze, hearing your name being called down the bar. “I gotta bounce, Babe, but hopefully you’ll stick around for my set and like what you see?”

You disappeared down the bar, tending to other customers and clients before he could tell you goodnight. He did as you suggested and stayed for your set with his cock growing and twitching within his black jeans. You were an incredible dancer, to say the least. You captivated everyone’s attention on stage in your icy blue outfit that left little to the imagination. Money was flying through the air for you, men and women hollering and clapping as you swung around the pole. He gave you everything he had, including a tip at the bar, and even then that did not feel like enough.

You deserved the world, the world that he inadvertently took from you.

★

After one month of seeing him almost every other day, it was safe to deem Peter Parker as one of your regulars.

If you were behind the bar he would always start off with a drink. If he arrived and you were on stage, he would wedge his way to be front and center as you performed. Even when you were none the wiser, he was always there, watching after you in his Spider-Man suit as Big Al walked you and the other girls to your cars. Peter would follow you home, ensuring you were safe as you headed into your apartment, he was like your guardian angel.

His obsession with you began to teeter into titanic waters as time progressed.

As the month went on he learned more about you and your upbringing. In this newfound universe, you were born in Dallas but raised in Houston. Your father was gone, leaving you and your mother to fend for yourselves. How you ended up in New York was a mystery still, you were careful not to divulge too much information with a client.

The last time you did, you had a stalker you couldn’t shake for three months.

At the end of the day, he was a client and you told him just enough to keep yourself safe and keep him intrigued enough to continue to pay your bills.

It had been four days since you’d seen Peter last. You knew something about him felt different when you realized you were keeping track of your interactions. There had been plenty of men who tried to court you and bought you watches and rings as objects of their affection. With Peter, simple conversations with him seemed to be enough to fulfill you. He was kind and respectful, he was unlike anyone you had ever met within the club.

“Your friend coming tonight?” Monica asked in the dressing room.

You grabbed your rhinestone cowgirl hat, perching it on top of your wavy blonde wig. “Not sure, why?”

“Everybody is going to be here for Western night.” She chuckled to herself. “I don’t know, Babes, maybe he’s just bored of you. I’d be happy to take him off your hands, he’s a cute one.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing up your boobs in your cropped white tank. “Don’t fuck with me tonight, Monica. If he’d like to downgrade with you he’s more than welcome to.” You winked, leaving her with her mouth agape.

Western Night, commercially known as “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowgirl” was one of the biggest themed events the club held. It happened once every few months and Eddie made sure to transform his club into a Western paradise for horny people. The outer parameter of the stage was lined with spurs and faux cowskin, there were specialty-themed drinks, and private dances went up two hundred dollars. Also, on one end of the club was a Mechanical bull where men could pay dancers to hop on topless, which was always a crowd attraction.

You adjusted your denim thong before turning the corner of the club. You felt your body collide with someone, tripping you up in your heels.

They grazed the small of your back, catching you and placing you upright. It was Peter, crossing your path as he was on his way to stand in the crowded restroom line. “Shit, Mel, are you okay?” He asked.

You laughed in embarrassment. “Yeah, uh, I’m fine.” Even in your rhinestone pleasers, he was still a bit taller than you, you looked up to him and narrowed your eyes. “You’re pretty strong there, Sugar.”

“Thank you.” He grinned at the comment. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. There’s been a lot going on.” He said, looking in your eyes for any sense of forgiveness.

You glanced between him and the stage nearby. “You know, normally when a man says a lot is going on he’s either married or has a baby on the way…you wrapped up in something like that, Pete?”

“No! No. Not at all.” He answered instantly, worried that you wouldn’t want to be around him anymore. “I’m not one of those guys, I promise.”

Teetering on your heels you nodded. “Alright then. I’ll see you out there, Handsome.”

You took a few steps, mentally preparing for your performance when his hand wrapped around your wrist. Your eyes shot to your arm, watching as he let go of you quickly.

“Sorry. I just, I wanted to say you look really pretty tonight.” Peter blinked rapidly, sweat beginning to pool under his arms. “You do all the time I just haven’t gotten the chance to tell you.”

You blushed. Thankfully the red lights were enough to hide the rosy mess developing on your cheeks.

“And I brought you some flowers too, but, the bouncer wouldn’t let me bring them in.” He frowned, looking over at Big Al who was watching the interaction between you two. “And now looking back on it I understand, safety and everything. He said he’d hold onto them, so please, pick them up before your shift is over.”

The man made your stomach flutter. “Thank you, Peter, that’s very sweet of you actually. You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to.” He protested softly.

There was something behind his eyes that you could not put your finger on. Any other encounters with men made you feel slimy afterwards and craving a long, hot, shower. In the past month Peter made you genuinely laugh, smile, and look forward to his affection …not what was in his wallet which honestly, wasn’t much, but that never bothered you.

There was something weird with him. Some sort of magnetic pull that kept drawing you closer. The sincerity in his eyes helped you close the gap in your realizations that he actually meant something to you.

Peter Parker made you feel safe.

You grabbed his chin ever so slightly, pulling him closer to your face.

“What—”

You kissed his cheek, red lipstick planted just above his jaw where you felt the smallest of stubble. Peter was taken aback, flushed, and melting into you as he missed the feeling of your lips for years.

“I got something special for you tonight, Honeybee.”

Peter watched as you sauntered off with a sway in your hips. “I love you, Y/N.” He whispered to himself, holding back tears.

You grabbed your prop from the cabinet, rushing backstage to talk with the DJ before your set. You were switching your song from your usual, something Eddie would appreciate because it was sure to bring in more money. As the DJ pulled the mic to his lips you felt your nerves wash away. You’d been dancing for years but the idea of performances did shake you every once in a while.

“I’d like to welcome to the stage the finest outlaw I’ve ever seen….” The man announced over the speakers. “Get your wallets ready for our fan favorite, Money Mel!”

Leave my lipstick on the cigarette

Just toss it, and you stomp it out, out, out

Inhalin' whiskey when you kiss my neck

We've been hurtin', but it's happy hour, oh, hour

Oh, oh, oh

You pat your hips to the beat, walking seductively to the pole situated in the middle of the floor. When you met the pole, you hooked your leg around it, snatching the whip from your waist and cracking it. The crowd whistled, lights illuminating them every so often. It was enough for you to recognize Peter in the front row with your kiss still evident on his cheek.

You hoisted yourself on the pole, leg stable enough to sustain your weight as you hung upside down. As you spun around you held your hat with one hand and rolled your body to the music. The money went flying around you, so much that it nearly blocked your vision. Using your hand to stabilize you, you lowered your body from the pole.

In a quick motion you swing your leg behind you, letting go of the pole and landing into a split as the beat changed.

They couldn't have me (Ah)

And they never will

And sometimes I hold you closer

Just to know you're real (Ah)

Crawling through the money, your nipples were exposed through the tank top. Many men were vying for your attention but you were focused on only one. Mouthing the words of the song to him and only him.

Wheels in the gravel

Davis in my bones

Sometimes I take the day off (Ah)

Just to turn you on

On, on, oh

You thrust your hips against the floor. Feeling the bounce of your ass as money grazed it. Being on that stage made you feel like Peter was the only person in the world. Nothing else mattered or was important to you.

With your back kissing the ground, you rolled your hips, running your manicured hands down your body and touching yourself.

Honеy, honey

I could be your bodyguard (Hey)

Oh, honеy, honey

I could be your Kevlar (Huh)

Oh, honey, honey

I could be your lifeguard (Huh)

Ooh, honey, honey

You should let me ride shotgun, shotgun

Oh, oh, oh

You’d returned to the pole, swinging your legs around vigorously while you climbed. With only your arms and core holding you up, you incorporated your infamous walking on air trick. The men continued to throw money, even Peter too, as his initial shock turned to pleasure.

The song reminded him of the Summertime and road trips you’d take together. You’d be hanging out the side of the rental car as you two drove through the desert, wind blowing in your hair as he steered.

In the back of the club you could see Monica watching your set. She was visibly annoyed by the way her arms were crossed against her chest. Dealing with bitchy attitudes and jealous women was expected in the club scene, but, Monica was absolutely exhausting.

Be your best friend

I protect you in the mosh pit

And I'll defend you in the gossip

You know how people like to start shit and pop shit

Suddenly you landed a fan kick to drop yourself. You let go of the pole with the intention to focus on floor work. You crashed your heels together, the loud plastic *clack* keeping everyone’s attention in check.

You rolled your body upwards, back on your feet and staring directly at Monica. With two fingers mimicking a gun, you pointed them in her direction playfully.

I don't like the way she's lookin' at you

Someone better hold me back, oh-oh

Chargin' ten for a double and I'm talkin'

I'm 'bout to lose it, turn around and John Wayne that ass (One, two, three, four)

You blew the tips of your “gun”, cherry red nails glistening against the stage lights.

“Hey baby,” you heard a man say beside the stage. “I got six hundred right here. How about you come sit on Daddy’s lap?”

You gave the man a smile, waving at him slightly. As you turned your focus back to Peter, he was already watching the interaction with careful eyes. You shook your head at him, trying to tell him this was fine. This is club culture, it’s vulgar and it’s suggestive and it’s what you willingly signed up for.

“Give me a second, Daddy.” You pandered to the man.

When the man began to touch you is when the problems escalated beyond your control.

You were walking back to your pole to finish when you felt a tug at your heel. Somehow the man had side stepped security, able to get close to you with just enough reach of his arm. At the sudden jolt, you felt to your knees. He had enough time to grab your ass, trying to snatch you off the stage when he was tackled.

Peter reached the man before security ever did. He flung the man off of you, his back hitting the floor as Peter stood over him menacingly.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” The drunk patron slurred. “Is Mel your bitch or something?”

Peter slammed his fist into the man’s nose. You sat on the stage in shock, eyes unable to look away as she sweet and harmless man you had grown to know was pummeling your harasser. “Peter stop!” You screamed, not wanting him to be harmed.

What scared you the most was how silent he was in the midst of chaos. He was too focused on his fists flying and blood coating his knuckles to say what he was really feeling. All he could think of were the amount of times he hadn’t been there for you: in your relationship, when he first became Spider-Man and hid it from you, the last few years you’d been off the grid. The thing that plagued him was wondering how many times something like this had happened to you and he was unable to protect you?

Big Al burst through the crowd, wrapping his arms around Peter’s ribs and pulling him off of the ground. “Nah, none of that shit in here. Let’s go, Buddy.” He called over his shoulder, looking to the other nearby members of the security team. “Ash, grab this other fool.”

You looked around you nervously. “No, wait!” You groaned, hurriedly rushing to your feet.

The money was the furthest thing from your mind in this moment and worst come to worst, one of the stagehands will collect it for you. As quickly as you could, you rushed to the dressing rooms in your heels. Fumbling with the lock on your locker, you managed to get it open and grab your comfortable shoes. Slipping them on, you ran to the front of the club, pushing past patrons who were in your way.

Pushing through the entrance doors you caught the middle of an argument between Peter and Big Al. The latter was unamused, standing out of the way with his arms crossed.

“Why wasn’t anyone protecting her?” Peter fumed, motioning toward the building.

The taller man sighed. “Look, kid, we do our best to avoid these situations and if anything happens then we handle it. You’re her client and that’s it.” He stated firmly. “You do not have ownership of her. You do not get to beat that guys face in and then continue your night without consequences—”

“He grabbed her and tried taking her off of the stage.” Peter laughed in anger. “What if she hit her head? What if she was seriously hurt because your guys didn’t get to her in time? I’m not sorry for what I did because he should have kept his hands to himself.”

Big Al shook his head. “Listen if you want to run around beating people up all day then go be a cop or apply here, I don’t give a shit—”

“Hey!” You butt in, walking toward the enraged men. “Go easy on him Al, he just saved me.”

The man turned to you, trying to keep distance between you and your client. “I have this handled. You can go back inside, Mel.”

“I’m not going without Peter.” You protested, raising a brow.

The older gentleman pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t let him back in tonight. You know I can’t do that.”

“Then I’m staying out here and speaking with Peter.” You huffed, hands perched on your hips. “Eddie will understand if I need some time to myself after that shitshow."

Big Al narrowed his eyes, looking between you and your client cautiously. "You have your stuff on you?" He asked. You held up your pink rhinestone pepper spray, swinging it from its keyring. "Alright, I'll give you some space but I'm right here."

You gave him a silent thank you. Turning to face Peter in the darkness of night. The wind chill had slightly picked up as the clock struck midnight, making you fold your arms to cover your exposed skin. You weren't even sure of what you wanted to say to him or where to begin with your feelings.

"I'm sorry." Peter muttered taking a step closer. "I don't know what happened back there."

You nodded, letting out a deep breath. "You didn't have to do that, Pete, you could have gotten hurt."

"Being Spider-Man will get you hurt, Pete."

He blinked the memory away, shaking it from his brain before it consumed him. "I'm not worried about that." He stated simply. "He shouldn't have grabbed you."

"And I agree, but, this is the lifestyle I live. Remember I told you college didn't work out for me, dancing is all that I have." You defended, inching closer to the man. "Look, you're a very sweet guy and I do enjoy our times together, but, I don't want to hurt your feelings. I crossed some boundaries with you that I never should have."

Peter's breath hitched. "What are you saying?"

"I just want to be very clear that you are just a client, Sugar." You said softly, watching the light dim from his brown eyes. "You're my favorite one, if that helps at all? I can talk to Eddie about letting you back in sometime soon if you want?"

The man nodded, looking down at you with a sense of frustration that a former lover would hold. You weren't scared for your safety, but, scared that you had broken his sweet little heart.

"Yeah, I'd like to come back." He answered.

Letting out a nervous breath you gave him a kind smile. "Consider it done." You took your cowgirl hat off of your head, planting it firmly over his brown curls. "Goodnight, Sweet Pea. Get home safely and ice those knuckles!"

You turned on your heel, craving the warmth of Star City that was a few feet away. Peter stood in shock, the scent of your perfume wafting over him as you gave him your hat. You were his only sense of home. The only thing that inspired him to keep going. Even with this bump in the road between you two, he knew he would always find a way to be in your life.

Peter just got you back, he couldn't let you go.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He called out, cringing as the name fell from his lips. He'd done so well not slipping up and his overwhelming emotions fumbled the secret he was keeping.

You stopped in your tracks. The sound of your name, your real one, sent shockwaves through you. The only person at Star City who knew your government name was Eddie, not even Big Al was privy to such secret information. There was something about hearing it from Peter that terrified you. It sounded eerily familiar—like you'd heard it before in a strange wave of deja vu.

You turned quickly, hands resting on your pepper spray. "Peter...how do you know my name?"

[thollandneedy]

Simply in love with these recm

Tom Holland Fic Reccomendations

3 Times He Wanted to Kiss You, 1 Time He Did - @peterparkerneverland

Easy to miss - @sarsmusings

When I hear her voice - @welcomethefears

You’re Dating Her? - @lousimusician

I Bet You’re Joking - @holland-dazed

I Know Who You Are - @lousimusician

Rambling - @lousimusician

Handwritten Love - @jordynlahey

Sunflower Soulmate - @negasonicteenagemess

Fall For Me - @negasonicteenagemess

The Last of The Real Ones - @negasonicteenagemess

Deep Red and Crimson - @imitationeve

Countdown - @oneshots-imagines-and-that

Who you belong to - @hollandcrush

Boxing Lessons - @tommyhoelland2013

Faking It - @lousimusician I screamed

Panic Wish - @jamilelucato

Autistic!reader - @timelord-winchester-22b

Tension - @rebeccccccaaa

Love potion #9 - @waitimcomingtoo

Paging Dr. Parker - @asonofpeter

Just for tonight - @cloudybarnes

Thank god for group projects - @hannibals-favourite-meal

Sex pollen - @donttellpeterparker

Please, call me Peter - @shawnxstyles

[thollandneedy]

SLUT!

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

synopsis: if they call you a slut, you know it might be worth it for once

chapter one: and I know you heard about me

chapter two: you must like me for me

chapter three: you and me would be a big conversation

chapter four: coming soon

[thollandneedy]

Distraction - Prof!Tom Holland (smut)

Boy, do I love prof!fics. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: After years of being professor Holland’s student, the reader finally finishes her studies and joins the team as a young professor – allowing the two to finally give into their teasing.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, office sex, oral (f), gagging, some brief jealousy but mainly fluff and smut

Pairing: Prof!Tom Holland x fem!prof!reader (3.6k words)

“Morning (y/n)!” She was greeted with a smile, unable to bite her chuckles back as she greeted him. Her steps were slow, trying to accept that the office she had visited numerous times over the past years was now hers, well, half of it. (Y/n) sat her bag down on the empty desk, sitting down in the chair she had always claimed as hers, making herself comfortable in this very room whenever he had office hours. “It’s good to finally have you around as a colleague.”

“Thank you, professor.” For a second she had pondered over the title, wondering if she should still call him “professor”, and yet it felt wrong to use his first name, at least not when he hadn’t offered it to her yet. 

“Please, (y/n), Tom’s just fine, we’re colleagues now after all.” Heat flushed through her, eyes momentarily flickering down to her bag, reaching for her laptop to place it down on her desk. It’d probably take her weeks to adjust to the new situation, still not fully realizing that she was finally allowed to teach at the university. “What’s on your timetable for today? Maybe we can grab lunch together, if you want.”

Tom leaned back in his chair, hand running through his curls as he watched her with his coffee coloured eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, hoping that he wouldn’t pick up on the giddiness thumping through her veins. (Y/n) couldn’t remember when her crush on the young professor had started, but by now it felt all too natural, one with her system, like a virus she’d never get rid of again. Back when she had been a student, (y/n) had chased any chance to spend time with him outside of his classes, finding her way to his office every single week to discuss new books, theories and problems. And Tom had always listened, sharing his own thoughts with the student he couldn’t help but marvel at. 

“I’m teaching a class at eleven, but I’m free between one and three. Does that work for you?” She opened her laptop to log into the university database, opening the course she’d teach in the next hour. He kept watching her with a smile playing on his lips, a proud smile she couldn’t help but fawn over, wondering if he felt the same bond keeping them chained together. When she had been his student (y/n) hadn’t dared to flirt with him – not like the other students trying to gain his attention – but now the tide had changed, the waves kept rolling back onto the sandy beach they’ve been walking on for years. 

“Works perfect. You know, I’m free till four, I could come watch your class.” For a moment she froze, eyes flickering down to the presentation she had prepared. Even though the mere thought of making a fool of herself in front of Tom left her heart racing, pumping hot, searing blood through her system, the thought of having him close would probably help her relax, guiding the students through an exciting class. “I remember how nervous I was on my first day, but I’m sure you’ll do just fine, with or without me there.” 

“Well, we don’t want you to get bored around here all alone, of course you can come watch. But don’t distract my students too much.” He shot her a sly smirk, taking a sip of his tea. Tom wasn’t oblivious, could pick up on gossip all too quickly, hearing the words his students murmured about him, praying to whoever was listening that they’d get a chance with the professor. 

“Me? Never.” 

……

“Here you go.” (Y/n) murmured a soft “Thank you” to the waitress, watching her place both Tom’s and (y/n)’s orders down. He had his eyes set on (y/n), interrupted on his recap of her lesson by the waitress. 

“So, I think you did really well, it won’t take long till you’ll take over my classes too, I’ll be jobless in no time.” Both chuckled, starting eating with their eyes meeting every now and then. No longer was her heart racing in uneven beats, no longer was she overthinking every word tumbling from her lips, somewhat relaxed around the smiling professor. 

“I doubt that, we both know you’re the students' favourite. But I can’t blame them.” Tom shook his head, curls falling into his face, smirk ever prominent on his thin lips. His glasses perfectly framed his handsome features, adding a professional touch to his appearance, making him appear a few years older than he actually was. 

“Can’t blame them, huh? Was I your favourite too, (y/n)?” He was teasing her, and was well aware that he had been the one to influence her back then. In the beginning Tom hadn’t put much thought into their back and forth, appreciating her for asking challenging questions, finally adding something to his classes he had always missed, but with passing months he had slowly picked up on the way she was looking at her – gazes he couldn’t help but reciprocate. 

“Oh stop it, we both know the answer to that.” Before he could shoot back with another teasing reply burning on the tip of his tongue, his name was called by a bright voice, eyes snapping towards an approaching woman. (Y/n) had seen the female professor around a few times, she had never visited her classes, didn’t even know her name, and yet she couldn't help but tense up. The woman wore a wide smile on her painted lips, making (y/n)’s insides churn as she paid more attention to the way the woman was looking at Tom, a gaze (y/n) was all too familiar with. 

“Sorry for disturbing you two, you’re (y/n) right? Welcome to the department.” The woman stretched her hand out for (y/n) to shake, eyes instantly drawn back to Tom and the uncomfortable expression he wore. “I’ll see you tonight right? They’re expecting us at seven.”

“Uhm, yes, I’ll be there.” Tom froze as the woman leaned down to press her lips against his cheek, hand holding his chin with her eyes focused on (y/n). She murmured a soft “See you later” to the two before she left them on their own, not looking back once. For a few moments Tom and (y/n) were engulfed by an uncomfortable silence, a silence Tom interrupted with the sound of him clearing his throat, reaching for his napkin to wipe the lipstick stain off his cheek. 

“Sorry about that. She’s been nagging me for months, I’m her date for a gallery opening tonight, in hopes that she’ll leave me alone after that.” (Y/n)’s gaze flickered down to her now empty plate before she reached for her phone, checking the fleeting time. She shot him a quick smile, murmuring a soft “Don’t worry”. 

“It’s almost three, I think I should head back for my next class soon. Should we pay?” 

……

“But, they aren’t dating, right?” (Y/n) shook her head, sinking further into her friend's couch, letting go of a deep sigh that begged to be released. After leaving the restaurant the atmosphere between her and Tom had been awkward, filled with a silence that was only interrupted as they ran into another colleague of theirs, joining him on his way back towards their building. (Y/n) had barely spared any attention to their conversation, replaying the past moments, unable to bite the feeling of jealousy down, tightening up her throat. 

“No, I don’t think he’s into her, why am I even thinking about that? It’s not like there’s anything actually going on between us.” Another groan left (y/n) as she closed her eyes, deeply exhaling to try and let go of the tension flushing through her. Her friend squeezed her knee, refilling their glasses with a pitiful gaze thrown (y/n)’s way. 

“I mean, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like he is very interested in you, I’m sure it will work out between the two of you.” (Y/n)’s attention was ripped from her friend’s words, hand reaching for her beeping phone. Her heart started racing as she focused on the text Tom had messaged her. It was a picture of a colourful painting, and attached was the text “I think I’m too uncultured, how can people enjoy paintings like that?” 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Her friend shot (y/n) a grin, reading the text (y/n) showed her. It took her a moment to come up with a fitting reply, pondering over the words she should use, trying to ignore the jumps of her heart. 

“Seems like we need to work on your knowledge about art history. You should join my Tuesday class.” With trembling fingers (y/n) placed her phone down, taking a sip of her drink. She tried to stir the conversation with her friend into another direction, not wanting to hyperfocus on Tom and the text he’d shoot her way, but the second her phone beeped again, (y/n)’s hand shot out to reach for it. 

“How about a private lesson? Wouldn’t want to distract your students.” 

…… 

“It was awful, I was so bored.” Tom’s words echoed through their office, he was leaning back in his chair, feet placed on his desk. He was sipping his coffee, studying (y/n), how she typed away on her laptop, replying to emails, trying to catch up with her tasks of the day. 

“Well, it’s the price you pay for leading her on.” He chuckled into his mug, silently grateful that their teasing was finally back, replacing the awkward tension of the day before. Their eyes met for a second, forcing both to give into the smiles tugging on their lips. “Don’t you have something to work on? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do actual work, besides teaching.” 

“Mind you, I work very hard. But why should I focus on my classes, when I can enjoy being around you?” She was glad that she wasn’t taking a sip of her warm beverage, would have probably choked on her sips. Heat rose in her system, forcing her hands to momentarily freeze, hovering over the keys. All (y/n) could do was shake her head, trying to switch her concentration back on the email she had been typing. 

“You’re such a tease, are you like that with all your female colleagues?” Tom threw his head back with a laugh rumbling through him. He rolled back with his chair, sitting up straight to place his cup down. For a second he watched her, pondering over his next move before he rose to his feet to round their desks, plopping down on hers, forcing (y/n) to focus on him once again. 

“We both know you were jealous of her yesterday, right?” He didn’t give her a chance to reply, forcing (y/n) to keep on watching him as he reached for her chin, holding her in place with his thumb running over her lower lip. Her words were stuck in her throat, unable to tear her eyes away as if the roles were reversed, replaying the plot of Orpheus and Eurydice, forced to turn back around to catch another glance of his frame. “But we both also know that there’s no need for you to be jealous, I’ve always been focused on you, even when I wasn’t supposed to.” 

Her heart had stopped racing, it felt as if time had frozen, as if earth had stopped rotating, waiting for Tom to break out into a fist of giggles, teasing her for believing the words he had just spoken. But Tom kept quiet, patiently waiting for (y/n) to reply. He felt her skin grow warmer, eyes flickering between hers and her lips, not daring to move closer before a reply would roll off her tongue. 

“I,” she struggled to reply, unable to pierce the pieces together, not daring to accept that Tom had just given into the feelings (y/n) had fostered for years. “Do you really mean that?” 

Tom let go of her face to reach for her hands, pulling her to her feet to stand between his thighs. One of his hands found their way back to her cheek, guiding (y/n) even closer. With her breath hitched in her chest she started counting the passing by seconds, wondering if he’d close the gap between them, like two boats sailing into the safe haven after months at sea. The waves were guiding them ashore, laying their trust in the lighthouse that called for them to give in, to let go of the pressure that had kept resting on their hearts. 

“Professor Holland?” The sound of somebody knocking on their door ripped the two apart, forcing (y/n) to sit back down in her chair, trying to catch her breath as Tom called for them to enter. One of his students stepped into the office, shooting (y/n) a quick smile before he focused on Tom, asking the questions that have guided him towards this office. And with her eyes trained on the screen of her laptop, (y/n)’s mind started replaying the past moments, cursing the student for interrupting their moment – a moment she had been waiting for since she had started crushing on the professor. 

……

It was evening by the time Tom found his way back into the office, freezing in his step as he found (y/n) still sitting in her chair, working on a book she kept annotating. Their eyes met for a brief second, breaking contact as he closed the door, haltering in his step for a moment before he walked to his desk, placing his books down. Tom rounded their desks like he had done hours ago, cupping her cheek with one hand, eyes finding her curious ones. 

Without another warning, Tom pressed his lips against hers, finally giving into the pull he had been fighting against for endless hours. Her gasp allowed him to deepen the kiss, stabilising himself with his free hand gripping the armrest of her chair, keeping her close to him. (Y/n)’s hands found his curls, not daring to overthink the moment that felt far more intense than in her dreams. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking of doing that since this morning.” Tom murmured his words against her lips, chuckles swallowed by another kiss she pressed against his lips. Both chased one another, not daring to break apart, wanting to drag out their moments together for as long as possible. Lust flushed through her veins, a biting feeling (y/n) had tried to repress for the past years, but the dam had broken, there was no holding back, no need to stop her body from giving in. 

She rose from her chair, making space for Tom to take her seat, pulling her into his lap with his hands finding the back of her thighs. Her middle was ground against his, coaxing a soft moan out of them, sounds bleeding together with the sound of their lips meeting over and over again. (Y/n) felt herself dripping, silently begging him to take it another step further, and another, till she’d choke on his name with tears welling up in her eyes. 

“If we don’t stop I’ll fuck you right here, I won’t be able to hold back.” Tom’s confession left her trembling, feeling him growing hard against her. With her hands finding his curls, (y/n) pulled him in for another breathless kiss, whispering a soft “Don’t you dare stop”. 

“Alright, but you’ve been warned.” A squeal ripped through (y/n) as she was forced from his lap onto her desk, pushed back for Tom to work on the buttons of her trousers, pulling the fabric down her legs. Anticipation filled her body, wondering how he’d touch her, how he’d make her feel, clinging onto the dreams she had been forcing through her mind for the past years. The soaked through fabric of her panties was ripped from her legs, and with his eyes finding hers, Tom pushed the fabric between her teeth, “Gotta keep you quiet for now.” 

Tom’s eyes scanned up and down her frame, marveling at her as if time was fleeting, as if she’d be ripped from him any moment now, needing to burn the sight into his mind. His cold hands pulled her thighs open, eyes set on her glistening cunt, coaxing a groan out of him. She wanted to keep watching him, sounds swallowed by her panties, but the second his tongue found her folds, licking her skin clean, she forced her eyes shut, desperately trying to focus on his movements. 

“Fuck, tastes so sweet, I should mark you up, remember that you’re mine, but I’ll take my time with you later, love.” Two of his fingers were pushed into her tightness, forcing her walls to flutter around him, not used to feeling the cold metal of his rings pressing against her warm skin. It was sinful, so sinful, giving into their carnal desire in their office, a public space, and yet they didn’t dare run from the darkness that seemed to guide them, one with their desires. 

(Y/n) combed one hand through his locks, holding onto Tom as he kept sucking on her bundle of nerves, fucking her closer to the edge with skilled, curled fingers. Shudders ran down her spine, heightening her senses, unable to pay attention to her thoughts, the images flushing through her mind, trapped in dark matter, a field of energy only Tom would be able to rip her from. 

“So pretty for me, fuck, I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” She arched her back off the desk, giving into the moan that roared through her, a sound so sinful not even her panties could drown it out. Her orgasm creeped closer, about to swallow her whole, forcing her to drown in the ocean she had been sailing, losing her path – forced to cling to Tom. “Gonna fuck you now, want to feel you cum with my cock buried deep inside of you.” 

He parted from her for just a second, freeing his cock with quick movements, reaching for the condom he carried around in his wallet. (Y/n) watched him with glassy eyes, sighing in relief as he pulled her panties from her mouth, allowing her to whimper his name. Tom’s fingers dug into her thighs as he wrapped her legs around his waist, cock brushing through her folds, collecting drops of her arousal before he finally pushed into her. 

Before she could release the heavy moan wanting to rip through her, Tom had kissed her, keeping her pressed against his chest. He fucked her slow, giving her a few moments to adjust before building up his pace, making her forget her name with only a few thrusts. The way Tom fucked her was ruthless, unforgiving, and yet it was more intense than what she had experienced before that, shaking against him as if she was about to pass out. 

“Feels so good, fuck, Tom.” Her words were whispered against his lips, eyes squeezed shut, allowing Tom to use her body, to mark her up. He was claiming her in the most primal way, body moulding against hers like wax formed into a candle, burned from the heat she emanated. 

Tom sneaked a hand between their bodies, fingers finding their way back to her pulsing clit, set on pushing her over the edge. His rough thrusts pushed her back into the state she had been trapped in moments ago, no longer having control over her body. Both had a hard time grasping that this was real, that they were finally allowed to give in, secretly promising one another that they’d never part ways again. 

“You’re gonna cum, huh? Can feel you clenching around me.” (Y/n) could only choke on his name, not able to hold back as her orgasm threatened to take over, rocking through her body like a bolt of lightning striking her. His pace didn’t falter, keeping a steady grip on her to hold (y/n) close as she gave in, trembling against his body. 

His dark eyes fluttered close as he came, filling the condom with a deep groan ripping through his throat. A “fuck” left Tom, slowly loosening his grip on (y/n) to pull out of her, not picking up on the whimper leaving her, feeling empty. Their eyes searched one another, unable to stop their grins from widening as another kiss was shared, chasing their closeness.

“Are you okay, love?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, taking his reached out hand to rise from her position on the table, needing to stabilise herself with her still quivering limbs. She’d struggle with walking for the next hours, needing Tom to guide her back home, not ready to part ways just yet.

“How about I take you home with me? We could cook something, take a shower, and watch a movie?” His words were met with a kiss pressed against his lips, answering his question. And with one last glance thrown her way, Tom pulled (y/n) out of their office, hands interlaced.

[thollandneedy]

attraction needs no translation

Uni!Tom x ESL!reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis: moving to London to attend university was difficult, but the language barrier was proving to be more difficult. All seemed bleak until your cute RA made your experience a million times better

Warnings: insecurity with speaking English (yet reader has good conversational skills), reader understands (and prefers) American English rather than British English sorry not sorry

Everyone can agree that English is a shitshow of a language to learn. Many, if not most, of the words were not pronounced the way they’re written; and don’t even get me started on all of the irregularities.

Your journey learning the English language was rocky, but you knew that the hard work would pay off one day, so that you could travel and watch shows without translations—even if the language looked and sounded like it was created from smashing the keys on a computer keyboard. Yet, English, for all its weirdness, could be fascinating.

Eventually, you would say that you were confident in your abilities to speak and understand English—that is, until you arrived in London to attend university.

“Would you like me to put your luggage in the boot?” Your taxi driver asked you as you walked up to the car. The syllables strung together in a very rapid sentence, and it was hard to distinguish what he actually asked you.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that slower?” You asked politely, your voice soft.

“Your luggage, in the boot?” He did speak a bit slower, but it still didn’t make much sense to you.

You looked at the car quizzically. There were no feet on the car, so why would it need boots? Maybe English isn’t his first language either.

The driver looked at you annoyed before opening the back of the car. “Would you like your luggage back here?” He repeated the sentence so slowly that you felt as though he was making fun of you.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, “yes, please. Thank you for repeating it slower.”

The man placed your luggage in the trunk, no wait, the boot of the car, rolling his eyes as he did so. It made for a less-than-ideal car ride to the university, but it was only a small bump in the road, you figured.

The taxi driver dropped you off on campus. On the flight here, you studied the map of the university so you wouldn’t be lost. However, it was getting dark out, which made it more difficult to point out the landmarks that you had memorized. People whizzed past you on their bikes, couples sauntered close to the walking trail, whereas you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk in your sweats and oversized sweatshirt, confused.

A girl with headphones began to walk past you. “Excuse me,” your voice came out timid. The girl didn’t hear you and continued to walk past you. Another student began to walk past, too engrossed in their own world to look up from their phone. Finally, what looked like a Professor rushed past you. He would definitely know where your student apartment would be located.

“Excuse me, where are the student apartments at?” The professor stopped in his tracks.

“Which ones are you asking about?” He, too, spoke with his words spaced so close together, it was hard to tell where one word started and where one word stopped. You had to pause to think about what he asked you, but you didn’t want to repeat yourself. Instead, you answered the question you think he asked you.

“Um, the Dover ones?”

“Oh,” the guy exhaled, “you’re on the wrong campus. Those flats are near the Guy’s campus, and right now we’re in Waterloo campus.”

You remembered seeing those locations on the map. It seemed close, or at least it did on paper. “Is it far to get there?” You inquired.

“I wouldn’t walk there if I were you. It would be wise to take the tube or a bus, especially with your luggage.”

What in the world is a tube? And why would you ride on it?

“Is the bus stop nearby, or?” You trailed off. He would’ve looked at you funny if you asked him what the tube was, so you decided against doing so.

“It’s just right over there.” The man pointed off in the distance. You had to squint to see what he was looking at, but it did look like there was a bus stop nearby. “There’s also a student shuttle that’ll take you to the flat, it’s probably a safer bet.” He looked down at his watch before looking back at you. “I have a night class to teach, but good luck getting to your flat.”

I’m guessing a shuttle must be another word for a bus. “Thank you!” You called out to him, watching as he sped off. The bus stop was a few minutes away, but it felt longer than it was, due to dragging your luggage behind you. By the time you made it to the stop, a small bus arrived. On the side read “student shuttle”, and when it stopped, the doors flung open. You walked up to the driver, who looked less than thrilled to see you.

“Would this, um, shuttle take me to the Dover apartments?” You asked politely as the bus driver nodded.

“Only if you have your student card.”

“Oh,” you replied, “let me grab it.” The card was stuffed away in your luggage, but you knew you had it. The bus driver looked annoyed as you rummaged around, even huffing when it took a minute.

“Found it.” You stated as you held it up to the driver. He sighed and motioned for you to take a seat. When you were about to sit down, he began to drive, which made you stumble into the seat.

Maybe going to uni here wasn’t the best idea…

15 minutes later, the driver pulled up to the student apartment. “Have a nice night.” He stated with no enthusiasm.

“You too.”

He drove off in a hurry, the fumes making you cough. When you craned your neck to look at the building, you noticed that it looked cute. There were a lot of students walking in and out of the apartment, even though it was late.

Someone held open the door for you while you dragged your luggage in, and even offered to help you carry it to your room.

“I’ve got it, thank you.” You smiled, “I need to check in at the reception.”

The student pointed towards the desk, and walked away. The receptionist was on the phone when you walked up to the desk, but when she was done with her call, she glanced at you.

“You must be new,” she stated while looking at your luggage, “are you here to check into your room that you let?”

Let? Does she mean “rent?” Maybe she did say that, but it could be muddled due to her accent, or it could be the fact that I’m jet lagged and heard her wrong.

“Huh?” You paused, “I’m here to check into my apartment that I rented online.” When you replied, the receptionist looked at you funny.

“We don’t call it an apartment here.” She rolled her eyes, “we call it a flat. And we ‘let’ out the flat, not rent’”. Her tone was exasperated, but you had no idea why. “You’re not in America anymore.”

Way to assume I’m from America, you thought to yourself.

The lady handed you the key to your ‘flat’, before pointing to the stairwell. “Right now, we are on the ground floor, not the first floor like you Americans call it. You’re on the fourth floor, which means you need to go up 4 flights of stairs, and not just 3.” That was probably the only thing she’s said that has made some sense. “You have no idea how many Americans get mixed up and complain that their keys don’t work, so don’t be one of them.” You didn’t have the heart to correct her, so you just nodded. She went back to her desk and waved at you. You waved back, stared at the stairs, and began lugging your bags up four flights of stairs.

The door to your flat was difficult to open, but when you got it open, you trudged through the door. The flat was small, cold, and the walls were painted an oddly vibrant yellow colour, but it was yours.

—

A knock at the door woke you up from your jet lagged sleep. The soft rays of light shone through the thin curtains, casting its light over you, who was sprawled out on the couch. It’s funny, you didn’t even notice you fell asleep last night.

The knocks escalated, so you shuffled faster to the door. Your hair was probably a tangled mess, and your clothes wrinkled, but you proceeded to answer the knock anyway. As you opened it, a boy with chocolate coloured curls smiled at you. When your eyes met, blush creeped onto his cheeks.

“Oh, hi.” His voice was soft, and his accent sounded nice. Not thick like the other accents you’ve heard since arriving.

“Hi,” you replied with a soft smile.

His gaze turned to the ground, his face still pink. “I heard you were a new student, so I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Tom, the RA for this floor.”

You gave him a polite smile when you introduced yourself. When Tom heard your name, he commented on how pretty it was.

“Thank you,” you smiled, gaze meeting Tom’s. When your eyes met, he looked away hurriedly.

“If there’s anything you need, I’m just down the hall.” He pointed to a room about 4 doors down— it would be hard to miss, since his door had decorations adorning it. “I look forward to seeing you around.”

“Yes,” was your response as you slowly closed the door. When you latched it, you let out a squeal. He was seriously the best looking guy you’ve seen in your whole life, with his chocolate coloured curls, his perfect jawline, and his beautiful smile.

You could get used to seeing him around.

—

The first day of classes were exhausting in more ways than one. The material went over your head, but most importantly, the professors' accents were so strong, you could hardly understand what any of them were saying.

Attending classes made you feel as though you were underwater, their voices jumbled, the words almost unintelligible.

Dejected, you dragged yourself to your last class of the day, Elizabethan Literature. When you opened the heavy door to the lecture hall, an American accent filled the room.

“Alright class, welcome to Elizabethan Literature. My name is Professor Johnson, and yes, this is really the way I talk.” She chuckled at her own joke, her eyes crinkling as she laughed. “I am from New York, so I have already heard every joke—and bad rendition—of my accent, so please don’t embarrass yourself by trying to mimic my speech.”

Her joking response brought the class to laughter. She seems really nice so far, this might just be my favorite class. Plus, her accent is clear.

“Please open to the first page of King Lear. We’re starting off strong here with a ‘lesser known’ classic from the Bard himself.”

The room became filled with the shuffling of books being opened, the paper creasing with movement. “I’ll begin reading, but feel free to pick up where I leave off.”

The entirety of the lecture was filled with conversation, and general confusion, over what was being read.

“I can hardly understand what any of this means.” Your classmate uttered under his breath, “I might just drop out.”

Me too, you thought. The language is far too complicated for me. I’ll fail the class for sure.

After class, you went up to your professor at her desk. She smiled as she began to put away her laptop.

“Hi professor, I just have a quick question.” Your heart was pounding as you anticipated what her response might be. “I’m thinking of dropping this course, but I wanted to let you know first.”

Professor Johnson gave you a confused look, but before she could answer, you continued speaking, “English is not my first language, and the reading material is hard for me to understand.” Your fingers were shaking, so you placed them in your pockets.

“Trust me, Shakespeare is too complicated for everyone, native English speaker or not.” She laughed, “and I’m speaking from experience. Can you believe Shakespearean English is considered modern?” She paused, glancing at you, giving you a soft smile. “But I completely understand if you’d like to drop my course.”

She was so nice, and understanding. “Maybe I’ll give it a chance after all. It made me feel better to hear that you struggled with it too.” You tapped the edge of the desk with your shoe. “I’m new to the country, and it’s been hard to understand what everyone is saying.”

Professor Johnson laughed heartily, “the British accent is hard to understand, but once you get used to it, it’s not so bad.” She gave you an encouraging smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners, “if you ever come across words you don’t understand, either ask me after class or please email me and I’ll do my best to explain it.”

You nodded politely, “thank you professor. I’ll see you next class.” Turning on your heels, you waved goodbye before leaving the lecture hall.

The walk back to your flat was calming. It was a warm august day, the birds were chirping, the sun beaming down. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—

Before you knew it, you had been in school for almost a month. As you got into the rhythm of your classes, it seemed as though everything became easier. The language barrier was becoming smaller, but there were still times where you felt like you were back at square one—progress isn’t always linear, after all.

The weather was shifting towards autumnal temperatures, the crisp air making everyone’s cheeks tinged pink. On your way back to your flat after your literature class, you heard music coming from down the hall. When you peeked around, you noticed it was coming from Tom’s room. You hadn’t seen him since he introduced himself, so you walked over to his door and knocked softly.

“Come in.” He called out over the music. The smell of chocolate chip cookies lingered in the air, the heat from the oven warming the room.

“Hi,” you said. When Tom heard your voice, he dropped an egg shell into the batter.

“Hi,” he choked while he picked the egg shell out, “it’s nice to see you.” He dried his hand on a tea towel. “How have classes been? Are they going well?”

Leaning against the counter, you sighed softly. “Yeah, it’s getting better. At first it was hard because I hardly understood anyone, but it’s not so bad anymore.”

Tom titled his head to the right, giving you a confused look. “If you don’t mind me asking, why was it hard to understand people?”

“Oh,” you breathed, “English is not my first language.”

Tom took a step back in disbelief as he audibly gasped. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I would’ve never guessed,” his eyes were still wide with disbelief, “your English is better than mine, and I’m a native speaker.”

Now it was your turn to be in disbelief. “Seriously? Is it that good?”

Tom nodded profusely.

“But I must have an accent, and half the time I cannot think of the right words to say.”

“Trust me,” Tom took a step closer to you, “your English is excellent, and it’s better than you realise. It must not be easy to be in a place where they don’t speak the same language you grew up speaking, but you’re killing it.” Tom rested his right hand on the counter, almost exactly mirroring your stance. “I’m incredibly proud of you.”

His words of encouragement were about to bring tears to your eyes. Here it seemed like you were drowning in a foreign language while being immersed in a foreign culture, but here he was being kind. You knew there was sincerity behind what he was saying. “Thank you Tom, I needed to hear that.”

“And I’ll be here to tell you that anytime you need to.” After that sentence, there was a shift in the air. Tom smiled again before turning back to the batter. “I’ve gotta make like a million biscuits for a bake sale tomorrow, so would you like to help me?” His eyes twinkled as he asked for your help, and you nodded your head yes. He squealed cutely at your response, causing you to laugh.

“On one condition,” you held up a finger, “you let me eat a cookie right now.”

“Deal.” He answered confidently. He watched as you lingered over the cookies that were spread out to cool, choosing one that was soft with plenty of chocolate chunks.

When you bit into the cookie, your mouth upturned into a smile. Your eyes crinkled, and Tom clapped when he saw your reaction.

“I don’t even need to ask if you like it.” He replied confidently, “it’s my mum’s recipe. It’s been in the family forever.”

“Please tell her I love them.” You replied happily, “I’m gonna need to eat like 15 more of them right now.” You reached out for another cookie, but Tom playfully slapped your hand away.

“You can have another one after you help me, you know, like you said you would.” His voice was teasing, playful, maybe even flirty.

“Maybe I’ll sit here and eat the cookies, seems like you’ve got it under control.” You smirked playfully as you quickly snatched another cookie off of the baking sheet.

“Hey!” Tom exclaimed, “I’m gonna revoke your title of beginning apprentice!”

You had learned the word ‘apprentice’ from tv, so you didn’t need to ask him for a translation. “Never!” You gasped dramatically. Tom tilted his head back as he laughed, his laughter lighting up the room. It was a sound you could get used to hearing.

“Alright then, hand me the flour.” He instructed.

It was easy to get in a rhythm while you helped Tom bake. He had a habit of sticking his tongue out while he concentrated, and it took everything in you to not laugh at how cute he looked. He also managed to get some flour dusted onto his chiseled cheek. It was tempting to reach over and wipe it away with your thumb, but you decided against it.

“So,” Tom broke the silence, “may I ask what your native language is?” The way he asked the question, with such carefulness, made heat rise to your already warm cheeks. As you told him, his face lit up.

“That’s so cool!” He exclaimed, “can you please teach me something?”

“That depends, what would you like to learn?”

“Could you point to all of the ingredients and say them?”

You chuckled, “of course.” Pointing at the various items, you slowly and concisely stated what each item was called. Tom intently watched you, even mimicking what you said. Sometimes he got the pronunciation correct, and other times he was way off, but it was so cute to hear him try.

“I think the way you said the eggs was funny.” He commented.

“Well I think the word ‘egg’ is funny. What’s even funnier is that people describe their heads that way. When I first learned that, I couldn’t stop laughing.” The memory brought a laughter that escaped your mouth.

“It must be so fun to learn all the silly little things in a new language.” Tom commented as he shifted his weight to his right leg. He was leaning over the bowl of mixed ingredients. “Could you teach me a funny phrase?”

It took a second to think of one, but when you told Tom one of your favourite ones, and what it meant, he guffawed. “I love it, I’m gonna use it all the time.”

Hearing Tom say that made your cheeks burn. You touched your face softly, “I can’t wait to teach you more things.”

“And I can’t wait to learn.”

—

A few hours later, both you and Tom were sprawled out on the touch. You felt as though you did an intense workout with the way your arms and shoulders felt. Tom groaned as he shifted in his seat. “I swear I never want to see another biscuit as long as I live.”

“Me either.” You remarked flatly.

“I’m kinda thirsty,” Tom thought aloud, “would you like some hot chocolate?”

“Yes please.” You grinned as you watched Tom walk over to the stove. He poured milk into a saucepan, turned on the heat, and began to stir the milk. Through his shirt, you could see his back muscles move as he stirred slowly. It was hard to look away, but friends don’t stare at the other longingly. Minutes passed quickly, and before you knew it, the drink was ready.

“Would you like some squirty cream on it?” Tom asked as he walked over to the fridge.

“Would I like what?” You answered shockingly, “Tom, I think that’s a bit suggestive.”

Tom snapped his head to the right, his eyes bugged out. “What did I do?”

“You asked if I wanted something squirted onto the chocolate!” It was uncontrolled laughter on your end as you kicked your feet. “That’s the grossest thing I’ve heard!”

“How so?” Tom’s face was beet red, and his demeanour flustered. Once he realised what he said, he let out an awkward giggle. “Oh! I see how that can sound weird. Squirty cream is what we Brits call whipped cream.”

“You’ve gotta be joking.”

“I’m not.” He held the can in his hand, holding it out so it’s pointing towards you. “Come read the label for yourself.”

You padded over to where Tom was standing. He held the can up for you to read—the ‘squirty cream’ was clearly written on the label. “I don’t like that term.”

“I can’t blame you,” he nodded, “it does sound bizarre and borderline gross.” Tom held the nozzle to the mugs and watched as the cream filled the brim of the mug. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.” You replied as you reached around Tom to grab your mug. The warmth brought comfort to you.

“How did you learn English?”

Before answering, you took a drink of the cocoa. “Through classes, and by watching a lot of American television.”

“Ah, I hope that wasn’t a rude question.”

“Not at all.” You quickly replied.

“Did English come easy to you?” Tom’s voice was soft, “and have you studied for a long time?”

Taking another drink of your hot chocolate, you paused before answering. “For the first question, no.” You shook your head as you remembered your journey with learning the language. “Instead of playing with my friends at recess, my teacher made me stay inside to work on my English homework. I used to sit there and cry because it was so hard, and my teachers were mean about it.” The humiliating memory made your eyes well up with tears. Blinking them away, you continued, “my teacher would ask me why I couldn’t do it, but I didn’t know why. They made me feel dumb, and it made me almost hate English.”

“They shouldn’t have treated you that way.” Tom added sympathetically, “you were trying as hard as you could, so they shouldn’t have been so mean.”

Gosh, he’s so caring.

“We also used to have these, um, exams, where we would have to write out a conversation in English, memorise it, and say it in front of everyone in the class.”

When you paused, Tom spoke up. “That sounds like my worst nightmare, but it would make sense why your conversation skills are so good.”

“You really think so?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

His response made your heart soar. “It was way more fun to watch American tv shows, such as Friends, and to listen to music, to learn new words.”

“Oh, I bet. Textbook learning is no fun.” He smiled before taking a sip of his cocoa. “You know,” Tom clicked his tongue, “I’m really glad you still decided to learn English, even though it was hard. I don’t want to imagine not being able to talk to you at all.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, “I’m glad I learned English too, because I like talking to you.” When you looked at Tom, you noticed his cheeks were pink.

“I like talking to you too.” He drank from his cup, took a moment, and continued speaking. “It now makes sense why you say some words in an American accent, because you learned them that way.”

“Wait, really?” You met Tom’s soft gaze.

“Yeah.”

“That makes sense.” You replied, “I had such a hard time when I came here. I thought English was the same everywhere, but after coming here, I realised that the vocabulary was different.” You set your now empty cup down gently on the counter, and Tom did the same.

At your response, Tom smiled sympathetically. “Americans have weird words for things.”

“Not true.” You refuted, “their words make more sense. I feel like I’m not even speaking the same language as you guys.”

Your comment made Tom laugh in disbelief.

“I’m serious! And don’t get me started on some of the accents I’ve heard here…” you trailed off.

Tom gasped dramatically. “Be careful what you say about our accents!”

“Some of them are so thick that I feel like I need subtitles to understand what they’re saying.” Both you and Tom laughed simultaneously at your comments.

“I will actually give you that one, some people have accents that even I can hardly understand.”

“See!” You playfully poked Tom in the chest. “It’s not just me.”

Tom looked down at your pointer finger where it touched his chest. His face turned pink at the innocent touch. “You’re right, except for the vocabulary thing. I will disagree with you on that until the day I die.”

“Wow.” You exhaled. “It’s like the expression I heard once, about them dying on a mountain, I think.”

“You mean, ‘die on that hill’.” Tom politely corrected as he took a step closer to you. “It means to never stop defending your statement.”

“Exactly, thank you for telling me what it was.”

“Anytime.” Tom brushed his fingers along his forehead to move a loose curl that had landed near his eye. “Hey,” he added, “do you find my accent hard to understand?”

You shook your head no. “Your accent is very easy to understand.”

“What about my speech…am I speaking too fast for you?” Tom glanced down at the bowl of batter on the counter. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t understand me, you know?” He paused, “but I don’t want to make you feel like a kid who can’t understand what I’m saying. Am I making sense?”

It was heartwarming to see Tom being so considerate of you, and your speaking abilities. In fact, his kindness made your heart skip a beat. “You speak at just the right pace, not too fast or too slow.”

“So just right?” He glanced back at you, making eye contact. His eyes were soft, yet you knew he needed reassurance.

“Yes, just right.”

The space between you and Tom had gotten smaller than you realised. He was so close that you could smell his cologne, and you were so close that he could smell the chocolate from the cookies you ate. “So,” Tom spoke in a hushed tone, “thank you for popping by to help me make biscuits, or as you say, cookies.”

“Anytime,” you whispered back, “I enjoyed myself.”

“Me too.” He replied. You glanced at his soft pink lips as he glanced at yours. His gaze flicked upwards to meet yours, to which you smiled up at him. “I, um, was wondering if… you would—”

A knock at the door caused the both of you to flinch.

“Oi!” A guy shouted while he knocked again on the door. “I finished making the brownies you asked for, have you finished the biscuits?”

“Shit.” Tom muttered under his voice. You watched as he sauntered over to the guy who interrupted you both. “Yeah, I finished them. Give me like a minute.”

“Why?” The guy peeked his head in. When he saw you, he whooped and hollered. “Damn Holland, you have a girl over?”

Tom groaned in response. “You can see her too?” He faked a gasp as he began to close the door on the guy, “now if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of something.”

“But I wanna—” Tom shut the door on the guy and locked it swiftly behind him. He leaned against the door, his eyes rolling in response.

“I can hardly stand him, but he’s the other RA on this floor, so I have to collaborate with him quite a bit.”

“I see.” You quietly responded. It makes sense why Tom can’t stand him—neither could you, and you barely met the guy. The atmosphere in the room that had once felt warm now felt awkward. You felt as though you had probably overstayed your welcome.

Tom took a few steps towards you. Once he was standing a foot apart, he rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly. He opened his mouth to talk, but you beat him to it.

“Thank you for letting me spend time with you.”

“Of course.” He meekly responded.

“I’ll get going now.” As you brushed past Tom, you could smell his cologne, the scent irresistible.

“Sure, yeah.” It took every ounce of restraint to not reach out to grab your arm, hoping that you’d stay longer. His hand twitched at the thought, so he stuffed it into his back pocket. “I appreciated the help.”

You hummed in response. “If you ever need help again, or would like more language lessons, you know where to find me.” You raised your arm towards the general direction of your flat.

Tom’s face lit up at the invitation, “and you know where to find me.” He placed his hand on the door handle while you stood in the hallway. “The bake sale is tomorrow at 3pm in the student union, if you’d like to come by and you know, actually pay for the cookies you ate along the way.” His intonation was playful, and he clicked his tongue after he finished speaking.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” You winked while shrugging your shoulders.

“I want you to.” Tom blurted out, his voice laced with hope, desperation even.

His response made your heart pound as your stomach filled with butterflies. You leaned against the wall in an attempt to not fall from being weak in the knees. “I’ll definitely be there, so save me a chocolate chip cookie.”

a/n; learning and being immersed in an entirely different language than the one you grow up speaking has so many challenges, but can also be so rewarding when you find yourself being able to communicate with others and enjoy films/music from that culture. I know everyone has a different journey, and different experiences, when it comes to learning a language, so I tried to use as many personal experiences—as well as my friend’s experiences—to write this piece. I chose to use American English as the standard that the reader understood because American culture really is everywhere. I didn’t want it to be clichéd, but I also wanted it to be as authentic as possible, so I really hope you not only enjoyed it but resonated with it :)

[thollandneedy]

OOOOOO, I really like your writing and u asked for prompts. So, maybe u could do a really shy!reader or mute!reader with peter? I think that be cute! Or you can do it with tom since u said once that you like writing for tom more :)

secret language

Pairing: Peter Parker x Mute!Reader

Synopsis: a study in the silence that comes when two people understand each other

Masterlist

You sat alone at on a bench on your first day of kindergarten, feeling intimidated by the noise and spectacle of it all. You hugged your backpack to your chest, wishing the day could go faster so you could fo home.

Then he came up to you.

“Hi. I’m Peter.” A curly haired boy pulled the seat out next to you and sat down. You waved at Peter and put your backpack on the table, deciding to give him a chance.

“Do you have a name?” Peter asked, and you nodded your head. You took his hand and laid his palm flat, carefully writing your name with your finger.

“Wait, do it again.” Peter requested, watching your every move intently. You wrote your name again on his palm and he titled his head, staring at his hand like the word would be written there.

“Y/n?” He looked up at you once he figured it out. “Am I saying it right?”

You nodded happily and pointed to yourself before giving him a thumbs up. Peter smiled proudly and looked at his hand again.

“Do you not talk?” He wondered, making you shake your head no.

“That’s okay.” Peter shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t like to talk either.”

Peter began to swing his legs, looking around the classroom in awe before his eyes fell on Aunt May, who was talking to the teacher.

“Is your mommy still here?” He turned to you to ask. You nodded and pointed to your mom, who was laughing with one of the single dads.

“She’s pretty. Her shoes are so tall!” Peter exclaimed as he pointed at her high heels. You laughed silently, smiling to show that you agreed. Peter smiled back at you, several teeth in the front row missing. His smile faded suddenly as he looked down at his lap.

“My parents just died.” He confessed to you. “Uncle Ben said they’re in heaven. I tried to look for Heaven on the map on the subway, but I couldn’t find it. Do you know where it is?”

You shook your head and Peter sighed.

“Me either.” He said, pouring a little as he slumped in his seat. You sat in silence for a moment until you heard a little noise from Peter.

“I miss my mommy.” He said quietly, his voice sounding weak.

Your eyes filled with sympathy for Peter as you stuck your bottom lip out. Peter watched you curiously as you reached out your hand, taking his little one in your own and squeezing it three times. Peter gasped a little, looking up at you with wide eyes as you gave him a gentle smile. It reminded him of what his mother used to do when he was scared, three squeezes to say three words.

I. Love. You.

Aunt May didn’t know about their little ritual, so when Peter squeezed her hand three times as they lowered his mom into the ground, she didn’t squeeze back. It made Peter wonder if anyone would tell him they loved him in the secret language ever again. But here you were, squeezing his hand to let him know it was okay.

“Thank you.” He smiled, his eyes no longer glassy. “I love you too.”

You smiled at him and he noticed that were missing teeth too. Peter pointed to your mouth and laughed before pointing to his own. You both doubled over on the bench (I was over on the bench) in a fit of laughter, as if you had reached the very apex of comedy with missing teeth and gaps in your smiles.

You and Peter spent the day together, communicating though words written on his palm or on a piece of paper. He found it very easy to understand you, even when you didn’t speak. He liked your quiet company far better than the loud children in the class, knocking over blocks and crying over toys. You were different, and Peter liked different.

At the end of the day, Peter saw his family and grabbed your hand, running towards them with you in tow.

“Aunt May! Uncle Ben! I made a friend. She’s a mule.” Peter proudly presented you to his aunt and uncle. You smiled politely at them as they shared a confused look.

“What sweetie?” Aunt May asked as she crouched down a little. In the mean time, your mother had spotted you holding hands with Peter and made her way over.

“Mute. Y/n is a selective mute.” Your mother explained as she came up behind you. “Hi, I’m her mother.”

“Like on a remote!” Peter cheered as the adults shook hands. “Can she come over?”

“Is that alright with her mommy?” Uncle Ben looked at your mother for permission.

“Sure.” Your mother complied. “If you give her a piece of paper, she can write some words down. I’ll give you my number just in case.”

“She doesn’t need paper.” Peter shook his head. “We can already talk, look.”

Peter held you your enjoined hands and squeezed yours three times. You squeezed back, making him grin.

“See? She said she loves me.” He exclaimed, letting your hands drop back to your sides.

“That’s so cute. I was so worried about her making friends. She stopped speaking after her father passed.” Your mother quietly explained to May and Ben.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Peters parents just passed as well.” May said sympathetically while Ben watched the two of you. A complicit smile sat on his lips as he saw his nephew genuinely smile for the first time since his parents died.

“My condolences.” Your mother touched May’s arm kindly.

“Thank you.” May put her hand over your mother’s. “It’s been really difficult for him. It’s been so long since he-“

She was cut off by Peter laughing loudly at something you didn’t say, but conveyed. Tears brimmed in her eyes as you wrote something on Peter’s palm, something that made him light up like the forth of July.

“Since he’s been happy.” She finished.

“Lucky they found each other, huh?” Your mother smiled fondly as she watched you and Peter play, earning a nod from May.

And lucky you were.

Over the next few years, you and Peter developed a secret language entirely comprised of soft touches, expressive looks and squeezes. It was a dialect that only existed between the two of you, and that was how you liked it.

“Welcome, students, to your first day of high school. My name is Mrs. Ingrid, I’ll be your english teacher this year. I’d like us to go around the room and say your name and what you did this summer.”

You looked at Peter with panicked eyes as tired groans echoed around the classroom. It was your very first period of your very first day and you were already freaking out. Peter gave you a gentle smile as he reached across his desk and took your hand, giving it three solid squeezes.

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “I got you.”

“Mr. Parker.” Mrs. Ingrid said suddenly. “Since you’re talking, would you like to go first?”

“O-Okay.” Peter stuttered as he stood up from his desk. “My name is Peter Parker. This summer I watched all the Star Wars movies in a row without breaking to sleep.”

“Thank you for sharing.” She nodded curtly and turned to you, as you were seated next to Peter. “Ms. L/n, you can go next.”

“This is-“ Peter began.

“I believe she can speak for herself.” Mrs. Ingrid snapped, narrowing her eyes at Peter. You looked at Peter with eyes full of guilt as you unintentionally made him get off on the wrong foot with the teacher. You expected Peter to be scared, but his face showed that he was perfectly calm.

“Actually she can’t, ma’am.” Peter said politely. “This is Y/n L/n and she’s mute. She also spent her summer watching the Star Wars movies but she fell asleep sometime between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith.”

Surprised murmurs swept though the crowd at the mention of the word “mute”. It was something the students hadn’t been exposed to yet and you felt the individual pricks as they sunk their teeth into it. Knowing the pantomime spotlight was being shone on you, you turned to the class and gave a weak smile.

“My apologies.” Mrs. Ingrid said shortly. “I forgot we had a disabled student this year. Thank you, Peter. And welcome Y/n.”

She turned her back to the class to hide the flush of embarrassment as a student called her out, but Peter had more to say.

“It’s not a disability.” He spoke up, shrinking in his seat when everyone’s eyes went to him.

“I’m sorry?” Mrs. Ingrid turned around with an unamused grin.

“Well, Y/n is mute because of an anxiety disorder.” Peter explained. “She physically has the ability to speak, but she mentally feels like she can’t. She doesn’t see it as a disability.”

“Did she tell you that?” Flash, a boy with his name stitched onto the pocket of his shirt, asked from somewhere behind the room, making the whole room laugh at you.

The whole room except Peter

Peter turned around in his seat and glared at Flash, armed and ready to defend you if needed.

“Yes, she did.” Peter stated. “She tells me everything.”

Flash snickered and rolled his eyes as Peter turned around in his seat. Other students continues to gawk at you, as if your mutism could be seen on the outside. Your face flamed red until you felt Peters hand on your shoulder, squeezing it three times to calm you down.

“I apologize, Y/n.” Mrs. Ingrid smiled at you. “Would the next student like to go?”

You walked home once the day had ended with Peter by your side, quietly thinking to yourself as he talked about his science class.

“Anyways.” He paused time catch his breath as he finished his story. “How was your day?”

You looked at him sideways before grabbing his hand and writing an “E” on his palm.

“Come on. English wasn’t that bad.” He insisted, grimacing a little when you glared at him. You made a gesture of a circle before sharply pointing at yourself.

“I know. But I bet everyone had a moment today where they felt like everyone was staring at them.” Peter tried to assure you but you rolled your eyes.

“Tomorrow will be better.” Peter said decidedly. “That Flash kid is so annoying though. How many classes do you have with him?”

You held up three fingers and Peters eyes widened in sympathy.

“Three?” He gasped. I’m so sorry. Hopefully he was just trying to show off for the first day.”

You shrugged a little and pantomimed popping your collar, to which Peter laughed.

“Right?” Peter exclaimed. “Why does he dress like a mobsters son?”

Your shoulders moved up and down as you silently laughed with him, nearing your apartment building now.

“We should do something to celebrate our first day.” Peter decided. “What do you want?”

You looked at him and raised your eyebrows, a smile appearing on his face as he caught your drift.

“You read my mind.” He sighed happily and he shifted the weight of his backpack to his other shoulder. “Coffee ice cream and Impractical Jokers it is.”

You put your hands over your heart and made a dreamy expression, to which Peter let out a groan.

“Stop it.” He laughed though a whine. “You’re the only one who thinks Sal is hot.”

You shoved him playfully as you entered the lobby of your building, making a face he knew all too well.

“I’m not having this argument with you again.” He wagged his finger in your face as he pushed the elevator button. You pouted and took his hand, writing out an expletive on his palm.

“Don’t use that tone with me young lady.” Peter feigned a gasp as he held his hand to his chest. You gave him an unamused look as he laughed at his own joke.

“Hey. “ He said suddenly as he took your hand. “Happy first day.”

You reluctantly smiled at his newfound sentimentality and squeezed his hand three times, for for each word.

~

“Mrs. Ingrid.” Flash’s hand shot up one November morning. “When we present the projects tomorrow, can Brian present mine?”

“No, Eugene.” She sighed, a snicker coming from the class as he used his first name. “Every student must do their own presentation.”

“Then how come Y/n doesn’t have to do one?” He asked spitefully, making everyone look at you. You looked to Peter for help, who was already turned in his seat to face Flash.

“You know why she doesn’t.” He said dully, tired of Flash’s unjustified vendetta against you.

“Well I don’t think it’s fair that she gets special treatment.” Flash short back, making some students “ooo” and agree.

“It’s not special treatment. Y/n is mute, Flash. You, on the other hand, have made it very clear that you are not.” Peter sassed, making the class laugh. Flash’s face turned red in embarrassment as he looked around the room for help.

“Selective mute.” He emphasized. “That means she can talk if she wanted to. You said so on the first day, Penis Parker.”

“It’s not like a light switch she can turn on and off, Flash. She doesn’t feel like she has a choice. Leave her alone.” Peter barked, getting up out of his seat now.

“If she wants me to leave her alone, she should tell me herself.” Flash snapped, getting up as well. You looked between the two boys with fearful eyes, tugging on Peters sleeve to get him to back down.

“What’s your problem?” Peter asked angrily. “What are you, jealous because she’s never spoken in this class yet still outperforms you?”

The class laughed at Peters insult, only making Flash angrier.

“I’d like to see how well she’d do without you as her interpreter.” He yelled as he pointed a finger at Peter.

“That’s enough.” Mrs. Ingrid slammed her hands on her desk. “Both of you, sit down. Y/n will be doing a power point presentation. End of discussion.”

“Yeah, that’s enough Eugene.” Peter hissed as he took his seat.

“That’ll be all, Peter.” Mrs. Ingrid narrowed her eyes at your best friend. “If this continues, I’ll have to request that the three of you be separated and put into different classes.”

“Why should Y/n and I be separated just because Flash is a dick?” Peter asked, eyes widened when he realized what he said. The students laughed at the sound of a curse word, even if it was one the uses on a daily. You looked at Peter scornfully and tapped his desk twice, communicating with him to calm down.

“Mr. Parker. I’ll be seeing you in detention.” Mrs. Ingrid stated. “Everyone, take out your textbooks and turn to page 117.”

You put your textbook on your desk and looked at Peter, giving him a sympathetic pout for getting him in trouble. You reached over and took his hand, squeezing it twice to apologize.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He whispered to you. “Detention is a small price to pay for getting to call Flash a dick to his face.”

You squeezed his hand again and tilted your head to the side, making him shake his head at you.

“No, it’s not your fault.” Peter insisted.” It was mine. I interrupted the class, not you. Don’t worry about me.”

You sighed and brushed the side of your nose with your thumb, causing Peter to smile.

“I know.” He said softly. “I always worry about you too.”

~

You found Peter waiting for you at your locker at the end of the school day, bouncing with excitement to tell you a story from his algebra class. You listened intently as you collected your books, linking your arm through his once you were done. You walked past Mrs. Ingrids classroom and heard someone clear their throat, making you both stop in your tracks.

“Going somewhere, Mr. Parker?” She asked as she appeared in the doorway, arms folded and glasses perched on the lower part of her nose bridge.

“Shoot. I forgot I have detention.” Peter groaned before turning to you. “Do you mind waiting?”

You pointed behind you with your thumb and shrugged as Peter chewed his lip nervously.

“Are you sure? What if somebody asks you for directions?” He worried, not liking the idea of you walking home by yourself. You looked at him like he was silly and pointed your finger in both directions, signally that you could just point someone in the right direction of the asked.

“Well what if the directions are really complex?” Peter added, coming up with any excuse he could think of. You made a gesture that Mrs. Ingrid didn’t understand, but seemed to make all the sense in the world to Peter.

“You’re right. You don’t need a babysitter.” He agreed. “Do you want to meet back in my room at 4?”

You nodded and took his books from him so you could drop them off in his room.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” He promised as you took his hand and squeezed it three times.

“I love you too.” He smiled, giving you three squeezes before walking in the direction of the detention room. Mrs. Ingrid watched him until he disappeared around a corner, turning to you once he was gone.

“You and Peter, are you two together?” She questioned, making you shake your head. She smiled a little, looking amused as she took off her glasses and rubbed them on her shirt.

“Someone should tell him that.” She chuckled, sliding her glasses back on her face. You put your hand over your heart and rubbed it in a circle, the first gesture Mrs. Ingrid understood.

“I see.” She nodded. “You have a nice day now, Y/n. Get home safe.”

You smiled in appreciation at her before waving goodbye, walking out the doors of the school and towards your building.

You tucked your thumbs under the straps of your backpack as you walked, taking every precaution to step over the cracks in the sidewalk as you approached them.

“Hey, Hellen Keller, wait up.”

You froze for a moment when you heard Flash’s voice behind you before quickly picking up your pace. Unfortunately, he had the same idea and ran to catch up with you, grabbing your arm and forcing you to turn around when he got there.

“I was talking to you. Are you deaf too now?” He snickered devilishly as you pulled your arm out of his grasp. You kept walking, but he fell into a stride right beside you.

“So how does it work? Can you and Peter read each other’s thoughts? Does he ever think about me?” Flash batted his eyelashes but you ignored him. You swallowed nervously as you began to wish you had just waited for Peter.

“Come on, Y/n. You should take my interest in you as a compliment.” Flash smirked, making you roll your eyes. “I wanna hear you speak.”

Your unbreaking silence woke up something animalistic in Flash, making him grab both your arms and pushing you into a vacant alley. He pressed you against a wall, gripping both your arms so tight, you were sure they’d bruise.

“Didn’t you hear me? Say something.” He bellowed, getting right in your face as he screamed. You turned your face away and grimaced, fidgeting to get out of his grasp.

“Fine.” He laughed in a way that made your blood turn cold. “You don’t want to talk? Then I wanna hear you scream.”

Your eyes widened as he threw you to the ground, your body skidding on the pavement as you moved. He stalked up to you like a Brute, towering over you as you held up a hand.

“Where’s your little boyfriend now?” He asked, raising his fist above your head. A scream ripped through your throat as his fist came down, never making contact with your face. You opened your eyes slowly and saw him wiping his hands, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“That’s what I thought. See you tomorrow. Can’t wait to see your PowerPoint.” He quipped, spitting on the ground next to you before leaving. Once you were sure he was gone, you sat up. Your hands went to your elbow first, as you felt blood tricking from an open wound. It wasn’t anything serious, just a scrape and a friction burn. Your hands then traveled to your neck, fingers resting over your vocal chords. You hadn’t heard a sound come from your mouth in 10 years, not even a laugh. The scream that came from your mouth was different from screams you’d heard in movies. It was deeper and hollow, as if it came from an animal. Tears stung your eyes as you got up, body aching from hitting the ground. You looked around the corner before continuing your way home, looking over your shoulder every so often out of fear.

You cleaned your elbow up in Peters bathroom, sticking a few Paw Patrol bandaids to the cut as you waiting for him to come home. You ended up falling asleep on his bed, only waking up when he came in a quarter last five.

“Hey sleepy head. I’m sorry I’m late.” He spoke in a hushed tone as he knelt beside his bed. “Mrs. Ingrid made me write on the board 100 times like Bart Simpson. Did you get back okay?”

You nodded as you sat up, slowly opening your sleep heavy eyes. Peter smiled as he smoothed the hair that was sticking up on either side of your part, smile fading when he took a closer look at your face.

“What happened? Have you been crying?” He worried as he cupped your face, turning it slightly to get a better look. Taking a deep breath to brace for Peters reaction, you held out your arm. He caught sight of the bandaids almost instantly, looking at you in disbelief before gently examining your arm.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded as he carefully twisted your arm to see the full extent of the wound. You weakly pantomimed a popped collar, seeing the anger in Peters eyes grow as he understood.

“Fucking Flash.” He stood up abruptly and slammed his hand on his wall. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you walk home alone.”

You got up and went over to him, shaking your head sympathetically.

“I did too have a choice.” He disagreed. “People skip detention all the time. How could I let this happen?” He asked, more so to himself as he sat on the bed. He put his head in his hands, hiding out of the shame he felt. You took a seat beside him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders while resting your head on his body. You tapped his leg four times, making him bring his head out of his heads to shake it.

“It is my fault.” He told you. “I provoked him in English and that’s why he went after you. I should’ve been there. I’m so sorry.”

You pouted and took his chin between your fingers, squeezing his arm twice with your free hand.

“It’s not okay!” He yelled. “He’s been targeting you since day one. I bet he planned this. He’s probably been waiting to get you along. Did he hurt you anywhere else? Oh god, did he touch you?” Peter could barely see past his disgust long enough to get the words, turning a little green as the worst case scenario played in his mind. You frantically shook your head and Peter calmed down just a little.

“He’s lucky. He’d be a dead man if he did.” Peter stated assertively. You tilted your head and gave him a disapproving look that he read in seconds.

“How am I overreacting?” He asked. “You’re hurt! He hurt you! Screw this - I’m gonna kill him.” He got up again and heading towards the door. You sprung up from the bed and threw your arms around him from behind, stopping him in his tracks. You squeezed his tightly, resting your chin on his shoulder as you held him back. He struggled to break out of your grasp until he heard a strangled sound emit from your throat. As distorted and muffled as it was, Peter knew was you were trying to say.

“Stay.”

He hung his head in shame, knowing it scared you when he raised his voice. He put his hands over yours, which had been resting on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, keeping his eyes down. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. You know I worry about you.”

You slowly withdrew your hands and turned him around, taking his face in your hands and making him look at you.

“I know you don’t need me to protect you. Is it wrong that I still want too?” He smiled weakly as he leaned into your palms. You shook your head and moved your hands down to his shoulders, shrugging a little to tell him you didn’t mind.

“I’m walking you home tomorrow.” He promised as he pulled you into a hug. “And everyday for the rest of my life.”

You patted his back four times, making his body shake with laughter.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Sounds good to me too.”

~

You entered Peters room a little over a year later after receiving a frantic text. The text contained exactly one word, “ouchie”, and the rest was gibberish. Peters wise eyes met yours and you smiled at him, smile fading as your eyes trailed down his body. He was clad in nothing but his boxers and one single sock, glistening with sweat from head to toe. Your best friends lean and scrawny body that you has seen hundreds of times since your childhood was replaced with broad shoulders and solid muscle, features that made your face burn all the way to your ears. That wasn’t what shocked you, though. What shocked you was the series of papers, pens, shirts, and granola bars that were sticking to his body as if adhered with glue.

“Whats happening to me?” He screamed, tugging at a Nature Valley bar sticking to his nipple. You held back a laugh when you saw how scared he looked and approached him slowly like a deer in the woods. You reached out a hand but he backed away as if you might burn him.

“Don’t.” He croaked. “You’ll stick too and I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

You waved your hand in dismissal and reached out again, placing a cool hand on Peters burning cheek. His eyes shut in tranquillity as he leaned into your hand, letting your touch calm him as it had done so many times in the past.

You peeled a shirt off his shoulder and plucked a pencil off his thigh as his breathing slowed down. You cupped his face in your hands and looked at him, wordlessly asking him to tell you what happened.

“I went to Oscorp yesterday and this spider bit me and I woke up really sweaty - and I mean really sweaty - and then I got super hungry so I went ham on granola bars - and I’m talking ape shit Y/n I didn’t even chew I just went feral on those crumbly bitches - and then things kept sticking to me and I don’t know what to do and-“

You acted on a whim and pulled Peters face towards yours, kissing him firmly on the lips. The only noise in the room was the sound of pens and granola bars hitting the ground as they slowly unstuck from his body. Peter places a gentle hand on your face as he kissed you back. You pulled away, feeling his eyelashes tickle your face as his eyes fluttered open.

“And you just kissed me.” He laughed slightly, pace significantly slower now. You gave him a knowing look and shrugged a little, making him laugh.

“You’re right.” He realized. “You didn’t stick.”

You wrapped your arms around Peters neck and pressed your forehead against his, letting silence fill the room as he held you.

“I don’t know what this means. I’m…I’m scared.” He whispered as he nuzzled against you. You shook your head a little, telling him he didn’t have to be scared. Moving your head up to look at you, you took his face between your hands and kissed his lips three times in a row. After the third kiss, a cheeky smile lingered on Peters lips.

“I love you too.” He told you, grinning widely before kissing you again.

~

You laid on Peters chest, a few years out of college now. His shirt was riding up a little, exposing bare skin that served as your canvas. A shy smile made on a home on your face as you traced letters on his skin.

“What was that?” He asked when he felt your touch but couldn’t make out your words. “Say it again.”

You chuckled a little at his phrasing, and he did too. In accordance to his request, you wrote your sentence again, taking your time with the curve of each letter. Peter furrowed his eyebrows a little as he propped himself up on his elbows, a little annoyed with himself for not being able to decipher what you were saying. He prided himself on being fluent in your secret language, so the only possible answer was that whatever you were writing now was something you had never written before.

“Wait, do it again.” He asked, determined to crack the code. You sat up on your elbow as well, looking at him through your lashes as you traced the words again.

“I’m convinced this is gibberish.” Peter shook his head through a chuckle, looking at curiously to see if you were messing with him. You let out a tiny whine as you stuck your bottom lip out, patting his chest twice to tell him to try harder.

“Fine, fine. Try again. But go slowly.”

You sucked in a breath and held your fingernail to his skin, slowly tracing the first word.

“Will?” He asked, grinning when you nodded and continued to write.

“You?” He looked to you for confirmation. “Will you?”

You nodded again, feeling butterflies now and you moved to the next word.

“Many?” He questioned. You shook your head repeatedly, anxious for him to figure it out. You wrote it again and saw it click for him.

“Ohh. Marry.” He smiled, proud of himself for getting it. His eyes met yours and all at once, he understood why he couldn’t figure it out before.

No one fault really, you just never proposed to him before.

“Wait.” His lips curved into a smile as he cupped your chin with his hand.

“Do it again.” He asked, unable to contain his excitement as you repeated your actions.

“One more time.” He pleaded, eyes filling with tears now. “I know what it is, I just want to feel it again.”

You wrote it again, writing it on every exposed part of his body now. You proposed on his arm, his chest, his leg and his bicep, a man excited squeal leaving his throat each time you did it.

“Give me your hand.” He fully sat up now, wrapping his arms around you and taking your hand in his. He opened your hand and flattened your palm, bringing his finger to your skin.

“Y-E-S.” He spelled out loud as he wrote on your palm. “Yes. I will marry you.”

~

Smoothing your dress with a shaking hand, you turned to your mom for last minute adjustments before you walked down the isle. She smiled widely as she touched up your hair, handing you your bouquet once she was satisfied.

“Are you ready?” She asked. “That’s a dumb question. You’ve been ready for this since kindergarten.”

Nodding at your mothers words of encouragements, you nervously clutched your bouquet of sunflowers and roses, yours and Peters favorite flowers.

“You’re so lucky to have found each other.” Your mother smiled fondly as she dusted off your shoulders. “To understand someone the way you do, it’s rare. Your father would be proud.”

Emotion overcame you as you pulled your mother into a hug, thanking her the only way you could for getting you that far. The vamping of the organ signaled to you that it was time to go, all your nervously butterflies turning into petals of excitement. Your mother gave you an assuring smile as she slipped her hand into yours, both of you facing forward now as the doors opened.

Everyone turned to look at you, a welcome gesture this time around, as you made your way down the isle. You made eye contact with Peter, who had a hand clamped over his mouth to hide his emotions. He wiped tears from his eyes as Ned patted his back, silently willing you to come faster down the isle. In his mind, you couldn’t walk fast enough. He was not interested in spending one more minute as just your boyfriend. As you got closer to the alter, you waved at the Avengers who had put on their best suits to attend your big day.

And finally, you made your way to Peter.

You whole life had been about making your way to Peter, and now, dressed in white, you had arrived. You handed your bouquet to your mother and accepted Peters hand to help you step onto the alter. Peter sniffled a little as he took your hands in his, overwhelmed in the moment by your beauty.

The priest began to speak, but you didn’t hear much. All you could focus on was your childhood best friend, soon to be husband. Your palms sweat as the vows approached, an unfamiliar tickle resting in your throat.

“And now, the vows.” The priest handed the baton to you and Peter.

“Sunsets, flowers, and you. Three beautiful things that don’t make any noise. I believe some of the most wonderful things a human being can experience happen in silence. I believe that because of you.” Peters voice cracked momentarily. “I stand before you today as someone who is permanently subscribed to your silence. I look forward to a lifetime of knowing looks and written messages on the palm of my hand. I never knew how much could be said through three simple squeezes of my hand, but it feels like my entire life has happened since the first time you touched me and the last. Though your voice has never fallen on my ears, I’m confident I could identify it anywhere. You and I have created something incredible rare, a silence that only comes when two people truly know each other. And I know you. I am blessed to say I know you. I have never heard you speak, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hear you. I hear you in the early hours of the morning when the birds begin to chirp. I hear you when the blood rushes to my face because you looked at me in a certain way. I hear you when the music swells in my favorite song, and I hear you in every beat of my heart. I won’t tell you I’ll love you until death do us part, because even the jaws of death couldn’t end my love for you. I will just find you in the next life, and the one after that. Nothing could keep me away.”

You touched delicate fingers to your under eyes as you dabbed away tears, squeezing Peters hands three times to thank him for his beautiful words. Now the spotlight had once again returned to you and this time, you were ready.

“Peter.”

Peters eyes widened in astonishment before brimming with tears as your voice fell on his ears for the very first time. It wasn’t perfect after so many years of being unused, but it was yours. That’s what made it Peter’s favorite thing in the world. He bent over and rested his forehead on your enjoyed hands, almost like he was bowing to you. He stayed there for a moment before standing up again, his face full of emotion. You knew he was composed enough for you to continue, so you did.

“I shut my mouth when I was 5 and I didn’t think I was going to open it ever again. But then I met you.” You broke into a smile. You spoke slowly, taking deep breaths every few words. “There is no other way I would want to use my voice than to tell you that I love you. I have always loved you.” You sucked in a deep breath as you got emotional. “My mom worried that I wouldn’t make any friends my first day of school, and I didn’t. I made a partner for life. It is one thing to be loved and another thing to be understood. You give me me both in three small squeezes. I love you, Peter.” You finished, punctuating your vows with three squeezes of his hands.

“I love you too.” He whispered, a steady flow of tears streaming down his face now.

“I love you more.” You said, verbally for the first time.

“Peter Parker, do you take Y/n L/n to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold in sickness and in health, till death do you part?” The priest asked.

“I do.”

“Y/n L/n, do you take Peter Parker to be your lawfully wedded husband? To cherish and honor, for better or for worse?”

“I do.”

“Oh my God.” Peter gushed, making the crowd laugh. Peter was still recovering from the fact that your first word was his name, and now you had said the two sacred words he’d been waiting his whole life to hear.

“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.” The priest smiled. “You may kiss the bride.”

Peter wasted no time in taking your face between his hands and kissing you, smiling with joy into the kiss as you officiated your marriage.

“You did so good baby.” He whispered against your lips as the crowd clapped for you.

“Thank you.” You giggled, proud of yourself for what you did. “I’ve been practicing with my therapist since the proposal.”

“It was amazing. That’s was the greatest surprise anyone’s ever given me. Even if it was just for today, I’m so happy I could hear your voice. I love you so much.” He told you before pulling you into a hug. You rested your head on his shoulder and held him tightly, thanking God that he came up to you that first day of kindergarten.

“I love you too.”

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort @foreverxholland @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 t @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @babeyspidey @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258 @maybemona @young-romanoff @alexxcorona113 @spidey-reids-2003 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @thestylestour @officialsimppage

[thollandneedy]

i saw your announcement and came to ask asap. can you like do a hurt/comfort blurb where reader and tom get into an argument and he goes to sleep in a different place and like he forgets to say i love you but he always says i love you so reader gets upset and they try to make up????? tysm i really love your writing

pairing ↠ tom holland x fem!reader [hurt/comfort au]

contains ↠ plain angst, privilege snooty kids, poor communication, sweet and comforting ending (like y'all know gotta go your own way in hsm. its like that. mwah)

masterlist | blurb requests open! (nsfw + fluff)

Ironically, it was stressful dating a celebrity (especially one you grew up with from the start). It wasn't only hard to watch the man you love taking on the fame but adjusting to what felt like a new lifestyle.

Sometimes, you wish you could flashback to regular nights without the constant paranoia that a camera was over your shoulder or some celebrity friend would call last minute about a party invite. As exciting as it was for Tom, he didn't realize it had taken a toll on you as well and you'd reach your limit tonight.

The night started out glamorous and grand because Tom's new friends asked him to come to a new bar, supposedly it's going to take off and all so, Tom should pay his mind to it. Suggesting that he could stay in with you after his long day on set, he insisted on going still.

Now, you didn't have a problem with him wanting to do what he wants, you loved going out together, but the people he surrounded himself with weren't favorable. They were loud, entitled, and fresh to Hollywood, coming off as snooty, although you admitted it could be that this is just new to you and you weren't around your "normal" friends.

As much as you wanted to keep on a smile the whole night, it became harder with every word you had to listen to. Tom was having fun, at least to your eyes he was, extending his overtired feeling just to socialize, but you didn't understand most of the conversations since they were clearly about acting.

Just as you wanted to start a new conversation, Angela, his co-star, drunkenly giggled as she asked what you were working on. When answering that you weren't an actor, she acted as if you were a nerd joining the cool kids' table. There was something so condescending about her answer that it boiled your blood.

"I'm gonna go." You blatantly said, not taking the treatment. You tossed your napkin on your chair before leaving toward the exit.

Tom quickly got up, following right behind you and he gently grabbed your wrist right when you got past the entrance, "Where are you going?"

"Home, or back to the apartment." You spat, pulling your arm back.

"Why? We were having a good time-"

"You. You were having a good time. Those people are awful, and I don't care what you say, I just won't take that." You tell him, wanting to scoff at his ignorance.

"C'mon, you're being a bit dramatic." He stated.

"Dramatic? You're all dramatic. Laughing about your camera angles and exposé... whatever that is. You guys sound a bit insufferable. This isn't like you at all."

A few people passing stared at you two arguing so, Tom guided you toward the alley where you could get more privacy and could only hope no one was taking a video or picture.

"Y/N-"

"No, I'm not gonna stay. Frankly, I don't want to be here. I was hoping we got to go back to London and just... feel normal for a few days, but you insisted on hanging out with these kinds of people who hurt my feelings for not being famous. When's the last time you called your friends anyways? It's like... you're a different person."

Tom, offended, rolled his eyes at your comment, "Okay, let's just settle this in the morning and just put on a nice smile and go back in there."

"No, I just can't be here right now." You said, and he pulled back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I wanna leave. Are you coming with me or not?" You ask him as if it was a question, but his hesitation with silence following didn't comfort you, "Tom?"

He clenched his jaw, his heart thudding against his chest, "No, I'm not leaving."

You scoff, "Then don't bother coming back if you want to sit around with a bunch of people who only care about your career and not you."

After you turned around to head to the apartment, Tom gulped as he wanted to mutter your name. He so badly could give in, saying he's sorry and that he loved you, but he was so angry that he didn't want to speak it out of a place it shouldn't come from the unsettling stress he felt. It wasn't fair to make him choose, but at the same time, it seemed like a no-brainer. You didn't want to lose each other. Just as he wanted to say "i love you" across the street, you did too, but instead, you two went your separate ways.

－ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the morning, Tom's eyes ached as if someone punched him deep in his sockets. The dryness under his eyes was unbearable and he only felt pain in his neck and back from how uncomfortable his friend's couch was all night.

You weren't doing so hot either. Leaning over the bed to avoid the pillow and sheets where his cologne lingered, constantly replaying the moment in your head and wishing you hadn't made him choose. You were emotional but so cruel to him with less than a valid explanation.

Both of you fucked up, and it had to be said.

Just as you reached for your phone, there was a knock at the door. As you rolled out of bed, feeling like you were coming down from a cold, you went to the front door and opened it to see Tom standing there with tired, red eyes.

"About last night-"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You told him.

He nodded, "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have just left you... especially without saying 'I love you'." Tom gulped.

"Me too..." You trailed, "Me too."

Without hesitating, the two of you embraced a tight hug as if you'd been apart for years. It wasn't the worst fight you had, but one that you decided to leave each other's sides after vowing to never do that to one another.

"I love you so much." He said against your ear, still hugging you.

"I love you so much too." You whimpered.

He kissed your forehead, not letting you go to make up for the time you were apart. Dramatic as it seemed, you both realized how much you truly adored each other and how special your love was.

[thollandneedy]

📝 hi! Could I please request a blurb with Tom Holland where the reader, the Holland brothers, and haz are going to pick up Tom from his wisdom tooth removal. He is on the medication from the surgery so he is really funny and loopy. The reader and him are best friends and he accidentally confesses that he loves the reader? (Basically a cute friends to lovers story) tyyy

an: to my lovely anon!! tysm for requesting and for participating in my bday celebration!! i hope you enjoy this short but sweet blurb :)

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader

"So when we get inside, Harry you're going to have to record every minute." Harrison said, "He's already a wit just imagine how he's going to be now that he's gone under."

You laughed and lightly shoved Harrison, "Don't be mean to Tom! Especially not now that he's vulnerable" You said looking over at Harry, "Don't stress him out too much." Harry nodded in agreement, "Y/N is right, I don't think we should stress Tom out." Sam said patting your shoulder.

"You guys make us two feel bad. We're not that bad, right?" You chuckled immediately, "You guys are bad. I'm sure he doesn't take anything to heart."

You reached over for the door handle, pushed the door open and walked over to the front desk, "Hi, we're here to pick up Tom Holland." You smiled, "You must be his girlfriend; he's been asking for you since he's been up." The nurse said, "Follow me to the back."

"Mr. Holland, your girlfriend is here." She said, "Oh, I'm not his girlfriend." You corrected her, "Of course you are silly." He slurred, smiling at you.

"Make sure he takes his antibiotics twice a day and bleeding should be normal but if you notice any excessive bleeding give us a call." You nodded softly, "I'll leave you two alone; he should be ready to go in about fifteen minutes. I'll let your friends back here as well soon."

Tom laughed, "Y/N, you're so pretty." He slurred again, "I'm so in love with you."

You smiled at Tom, "Is that so?" Tom nodded his head furiously, "Absolutely, I love you so much!" You laughed, "I love you too." You said softly; pressing a small kiss on Tom's forehead.

"Has he done anything dumb?" Harrison asked, "Harry don't stop rolling." Harry walked past you, immediately putting his phone in Tom's face, "Leave him alone guys!" You giggled, "He hasn't done anything dumb."

"I told Y/N that I love her." He sang, "And she loves me too!" He smiled grabbing your hand, "And we're getting married!"

"He just did!" Harrison said laughing, "You got that right, Harry?" He nodded, "Every single second."

tagging my lovely moots <3 (sorry for tagging u guys :p)

@belovedholland @gingerparker @darlingparker @seolaseoul @justapurrcat @buckybarnesandmarvel @sunshinehollandd @melodicheauxxo-writes @hollandfromhell

[thollandneedy]

I’m back, bitches

Hey guys! I know i was a long time away from here, but after thinking a lot, i decided to come back with my writing. These past moths, i’ve been struggling with depression and anxiety. My brain wasn’t working as it should, and i didn’t had enough energy/creativity to write. I started to focus on my fanfictions on Wattpad, because of the slow updates and more hours that i had to write my content. Now, i’m taking some medicines to help me with my depression, and i think that i’m ready for start doing what i love again. 

SO LET’S TO THIS SHIT. 

I gonna organize my profile and as soon as everything it’s in your proper place, you guys can send me your requests. I’m already warning that i’ll take some time to write and post, so try to don’t rush me please. Love you all, and i’m happy to be back  ❤

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #im back #harrison osterfield #peter parker #arvin russel imagine #nathan drake

[thollandneedy]

KINKMAS DAY 12

Threesome + breeding kink + face fucking [Tom Holland & Harrison Osterfield]

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: lots of making out, fingering, blowjob(s), unprotected sex and many more

A/N: First of all sorry for the delay but I wanted this to be long and better than the other ones. This is my Christmas gift to @cumholland and a holiday gift for everyone. Also again thanks to D for helping me with it, love you and see you tmrw lol. AND this is a bi!fem!reader fic but it’s more of a verbal thing there isn’t many action to it. Okay I’m going now enjoy this filth y’all byeeee HAPPY HOLIDAYS

kinkmas masterlist // masterlist

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Harrison invited you and Tom to his house for dinner and of course you couldn’t refuse his offer on this beautiful Friday evening. He prepared everything from a full course meal to wine. There was even a soothing  melody playing in the background. You were catching up on life and how everything was in your lives. You asked Harrison about if he had any girl he was talking to after his breakup and the air got thick all of a sudden.

Continuar lendo

[thollandneedy]

peter parker is the cutest most adorable human being ever created I want him to rail me

[thollandneedy]

Big Dick Energy [p.p]

Summary: Peter overhears you say something, making him worry about the size of his dick.

This was just a super random idea i had and i thought it was just cr*ck my mind would forget in 20 minutes, but suddenly i turned it into a whole one shot sksjsh don’t judge me (if this is your first fic of mine that you’re reading... pls go read another one first to decide if you like my writing lmaoo😭)

Warnings: this was not supposed to be anything serious lmao, this has smut but ... idk the talk leading up to the smut is the weird thing here ahah, um squirting, mention of blood, sorry if there’s weird spacing, i’m posting this on my phone. Overuse of the word dick. Peter referring to his dick as ‘he’?

word count: 3.8k

-this is a repost of an old fic- idek if i like it but it had over 1k notes so i figured some people don’t want it deleted?

gif not mine <3

Peter isn‘t eavesdropping. He just feels like he‘s been neglecting his enhanced hearing lately, so he wants to appreciate it more by putting it to good use— by listening to your voice. He loves your voice.

He just so happens to listen to you while you‘re having a rather private conversation with your friend Betty.

“So she told me they had sex for the first time last night and she said it was really as big as she‘s seen in porn, and there was blood everywhere,“ Betty says, a dramatic tone in her voice.

Even though your back is turned to him he can picture you scrunching up your nose, “Oh god. People don’t say have your first time with someone who has a small dick for no reason.”

Peter’s eyes immediately drift down to his lap.

Wait what? He thought girls preferred big dicks and now they prefer small dicks? He thought his dick size was never something he had to worry about, as his dick always seemed quite decent to him. If anything he did worry that he’s not quite big enough, and now he might be too big?

That night he sits down on his bed with a ruler and his phone.

Turns out he’s at least average, even a little above - depending on the website. He frowns when he measures his hard dick for the third time. It’s not going to get smaller the more he measures, so he pulls his pants pack up and goes to bed with a frown. He doesn’t even want to jerk off anymore.

All he can think of is you, and not in the way you would expect while he’s hard. He can’t touch himself while he’s worried about you not liking his dick. He wants you to like his dick.

Oh. And then there’s the fact that you’re not even together, so you might never see his dick. But Peter is nothing if not hopeful.

Then Peter’s mind starts racing. What if you were talking from experience? What if you have had sex already? You two are best friends, but you’re still a guy and a girl, and talking about sex is already awkward enough when Peter and Ned talk about it, so he never thought about talking about sex with you. Not that he has much to talk about anyway.

He wouldn’t care if you’ve had sex already, he wouldn’t judge you. But his blood boils when you just hug another guy, so thinking about you having sex with another guy, and not telling him on top of that, makes him want to punch something.

Peter barely sleeps that night.

He just can’t stop thinking about it.

He must have misunderstood you. He was so sure that big dicks are considered good, and small dicks are bad. Why would you suddenly prefer a small dick? He tries to replay your conversation he overheard earlier in his head, but all he can remember is you talking about having sex with someone with a small dick.

Maybe you were being sarcastic, and he didn’t get it because he couldn’t see your expression.

Peter was never one to worry about his dick. Now he hears you say one sentence and he thinks about it for days. He’ll have to ask you about it or he’ll go crazy.

You’re studying together a few days later, separately doing your college assignments. Peter finished his studying a few minutes ago, and now he’s just waiting for you to be done, so he can ask you… about dicks. He tries not to think about it too much, otherwise he’ll chicken out.

He’s distracting himself with some Subway Surfers to pass the time, and he doesn’t notice how you clear up all your papers. All he knows is you’re doing a whole body stretch right next to him, your limbs spreading out over the bed- and now him.

He’s about to break his record on the game when your arm brushes against his thigh, dangerously close to his lap.

Peter drops his phone, jumping as you touch him.

“You okay?” You ask, turning around to face him.

“Y-yeah, I didn’t notice you were done already.”

“Yup. All done for the weekend. So, what do you wanna do?” You’re lying on your belly now, head resting on your folded arms.

Peter tries to find the words he wants to say to you. He’s about to ask if you were being serious when you said it, but then he remembers he was eavesdropp—... appreciating his enhanced hearing, and you don’t know he was listening at the time.

“Um, I heard, actually I read something the other day and I wanted to ask you about it.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“But it’s a weird topic, and it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it or something.”

“Why, what is it?” you ask, sitting up. You lean against the headboard next to him.

“Uhh well. I read that girls- that girls. Uh, when they have... sex, they try to have sex with a guy who has a small dick. And I thought, well, I thought that girls like big dicks. So, uhm, I was just wondering what you, as a girl, think about that.”

You stifle a laugh. You thought Peter was about to ask something serious.

“Actually, Betty and I were talking about the other day. One of her friends wanted to have sex, and she wanted to quickly have her first time to get it over with. And she apparently chose a guy with the biggest dick ever, and she was so surprised that it hurt.”

“Wait what?” Peter asks.

“So, if you want to have sex, then it makes sense to go for a guy with a small dick because it hurts less,” you explain with a shrug.

“Oh. Ok. Yeah, that makes sense. Wait so it’s just because of the pain during the first times?”

“Yeah.”

“But what if your boyfriend has a big dick. I mean would you have your first time with a guy who has a small dick? Um, assuming you haven’t had sex yet,” he mumbles the last part. Even though he knows you’ve never even kissed anyone.

“Of course I would. No girl goes around asking boys how big their dicks are to determine who she should have her first time with. It’s more of a joke, or if anything just for people who want to get it over with, their first time, I mean,” you see Peter slowly become less tense.

“So yeah, of course I’d have my first time with a guy with a big dick as long as I love him. But honestly I kind of have hope that it's not going to hurt too much anyway. If I liked the guy I’m with then I should be.. you know,” you motion with your hand, hoping he knows what you’re trying to say.

“Um. I don’t know where you’re going with this,” he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“I just mean, I hope I’ll be wet enough anyway, so that it just … like… slides in.”

“Oh- yeah of course, mhm,” Peter swallows and looks away.

“Why?” you ask, as the purpose of his questioning slowly sinks in, “Are you afraid that your dick is too big?” You purposely lie down on his thighs that are stretched across the bed.

He doesn’t look at you.

You sit up again, “Wait really? Can I see?” It just slips out, you don’t know why you said it. But also, you really do want to see.

“What, no!” He pulls his legs against his chest, “It’s not big, but it’s not small either. I was just wondering because of what you said- what I read, I mean.”

“So it’s like average?”

“I don’t know how many inches exactly,” you raise your eyebrows, and his cheeks turn a deep red, “but I guess a bit more than average.”

“The thing is, Peter, I don’t know much about... dicks or how big average is,” He doesn’t say anything, so you try again, “You’re just gonna tell me about your dick and then not let me see it? That’s kinda mean. I’m your best friend, don’t you trust me?”

You don’t know why you’re so persistent about this. If any other guy told you this much about his dick you would have kicked him by now.

“That’s not- that’s not how it works.”

You can tell Peter doesn’t want to show you his dick. But you also know him, and he’s not truly uncomfortable. He’s just a little embarrassed. You’ll stop as soon as you sense that he’s genuinely upset.

You’re about to make a joke, but he says something first, “It- he’s not fully hard right now, so you wouldn’t see him in the um required state for sex-”

“Not fully hard? But a bit hard? And.. he?”

“I can’t control it, okay? And I can’t call him it. He has quite a personality, you know?” Peter says, a slight smile on his lips before he pushes a pillow against his face, letting it fall into his lap afterwards.

“But wouldn’t... he be in the ideal state like that? It.. or he won’t be too big so that it would seem intimidating, you know?

You really want to see Peter’s dick. You don’t know why, but you do. You’re really trying to convince your best friend to show you his dick.

“Anyway, it wouldn’t be fair. So I show you my dick but what do I get in return?”

Without so much as a second thought, you pull up your shirt, exposing your chest. You’re not wearing a bra, and your nipples harden against the cool air. Peter’s eyes go wide, and he pouts when you drop the hem of your shirt again.

“Now you,” you smile, voice a bit quiet.

“Woah- wow. I was not expecting that. You weren’t wearing a bra this whole time?”

“Nope.” You pull your legs against your chest, feeling your nipples poke against your shirt uncomfortably.

“O-okay,” Peter says.

He throws the pillow that was on his lap off the bed, readjusting his sitting position. You see his fingers tremble as he undoes his belt.

“Hey, Pete, wait. You don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. We can just forget it.“

He gives you a shy smile, “No, it’s only fair. A deal’s a deal.”

You lick your lips in anticipation, and it feels like he unzips his jeans in slow motion.

A few seconds pass while he pulls down his jeans and boxers in one go, and then he’s holding his hard cock in his hand. It’s glistening at the tip.

Your breath hitches but you try not to seem too bothered. “You’re right, it’s definitely not small. But... I think I could take that,” you say, surprising yourself.

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, getting under the blanket and pulling off your sweatpants.

“W-what, right now?”

“Yeah. C’mere.”

Peter joins you under the blanket, getting between your legs.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, and he nods eagerly.

You move to place your hands on his cheeks but his lips are already on yours. Your heart beats wildly as his lips move against your own.

He’s only semi stable on top of you, holding himself up awkwardly, with his cock in his hand, holding it back so it doesn’t touch you.

You notice his hand and look up at him, “It’s okay.”

He reluctantly lets go of his cock and you reach down, wrapping your hand around him.

You start jerking him off, unsure if he’s enjoying it, “Does that feel okay?”

He takes your hand, bringing it up to his mouth. He licks up your palm shyly and guides it back down to his cock.

This time he lets out a breathy moan as you go up and down his cock. He looks so beautiful with his eyebrows scrunched together, biting his lip.

“Wait, I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

“Okay,” you smile nervously, dropping your hand. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling your panties to the side so you can find out what it feels like to have him inside of you.

Peter looks down and smiles, leaning down to kiss you again.

His cock brushes against your inner thigh for a second, and a weird feeling shoots through your whole body. You immediately let go of your panties, letting them slide back in place, and you roll to the side, away from Peter.

“Wait, I’m not ready. Sorry.”

He backs off as soon as you say that, “No don’t apologise. I- I don’t really know if I was ready either.”

You stare at each other for a few seconds, Peter clutching the blanket while he pulls his boxers back up.

“Sorry,” you repeat, feeling bad for leading him on.

“Don’t say that, there’s really no need,” he smiles.

You lick your lips as you see the bulge straining against his underwear, scooting closer to him, “I could still... help you with that.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I kinda liked watching you when I was touching you just now.”

A blush coats his cheeks, and he can’t help but smile, “If you’re sure you want to, then yes please.”

You nod, pulling his cock from his boxers, spitting in your hand as you start again.

Peter leans back on his hands, throwing his head back as your thumb rubs over the tip.

Once you get a good rhythm, you look into his eyes, and he can’t seem to look away, even though he’s blushing up to the tips of his ears.

“Fuck I-” He squeezes his eyes shut as thick ropes of cum shoot out of his cock, painting his grey shirt. You barely manage to hold in your own moans as Peter tips his head back, groaning as he cums more.

You slow your movements when Peter opens his eyes again, looking refreshed. Letting go of his softening cock, you wipe your hand on his shirt. He pulls his boxers back in place, looking down at his shirt with a red glow on his face.

“Um, I should probably...” he mumbles, pulling the shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor.

You give him some space, scooting to the other side of the bed with your ankles crossed.

“What about you?” He asks, licking his lips.

“What about me?” I-I’m fine,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice how horny you still are.

“I can kinda see how wet you are,” he smiles.

You close your legs quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t have to but uh. I can try to make you feel good.”

You think for a second, looking down at his legs.

“You know, I always liked your thighs.”

“My thighs?”

“Mhm,” you crawl over to him, straddling his leg. Your pussy is pulsing already, and you hope he can’t feel it, “Is this okay?”

He still looks a little confused, but he nods, pulling you closer, your pussy rubbing up against his thigh in the process, and you hope he doesn’t hear the small whimper that slips out.

With the way he smiles at you, you can’t tell if he heard or if he’s just smiling because you’re straddling him and you’re half naked.

You wrap your arms around his neck, and you start making out again. It’s more steady this time and after a while you feel comfortable enough to start grinding against his leg.

His hands wander down to your ass, supporting the movement of your hips.

He pulls away shortly, “Fuck, you’re hot,” he whispers, and crashes his lips against yours again.

You’re so wet that it doesn’t matter how you move, as long as there’s some kind of friction. But when Peter starts flexing his thigh you wonder how you ever got off without that feeling.

You try to keep on kissing him, only so his eyes remain shut.

You’re not too shy to shamelessly grind against his thigh but you can’t have him watching you so closely while you do it.

When you can no longer concentrate on making out with him, you bury your face in his neck. For the first time you notice that you can hear how wet you are.

But Peter flexes his thigh again, and before you can become embarrassed by how horny you are, the pleasure takes over.

You bite into his shoulder to muffle your moans as you keep grinding against him, your pussy pulsing against his muscles.

Peter kisses the side of your face once you stop moving. You pull back, not daring to look at him, and you bashfully get off of him. You’re surprised that his thigh isn’t coated in your arousal.

You finally look up at Peter who has nothing but adoration in his eyes. He tries to get words out but he’s speechless, making you giggle.

“God, I’ve never been this wet. Do you think you could...” you stop before the words leave your mouth.

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, tell me,” he insists, a hand on your leg.

“So... I’ve never fingered myself, mainly because I can’t find the right angle, but I was thinking since I’m really wet and you have a different perspective and better angle maybe you could…”

“Finger you?”

“Only if you want to,” you brush a hand over your hair.

“Yeah- yes of course.” He eagerly gets between your thighs, a bright smile on his face.

As you slip out of your panties you’re nearly embarrassed to see what a mess you made in them.

He stares at your dripping pussy for a bit, and you see a new bulge forming under his boxers.

“Peter?” You nudge him.

“Yeah- sorry, so um, is it here?”

He spreads your legs, placing his index finger right at your entrance.

“Yeah, right there.”

He starts sliding his finger in, slow at first. But with all your arousal he slides all the way in right away, shooting you a worried look to see if it hurts.

“Can you do another finger?”

“Mhm. Tell me if it hurts.” He changes the position of his hand, sliding in another finger.

You arch your back, pushing against him, “Can you um. Can you-” you’ve forgotten nearly every word from how good he feels.

He guesses what you want, and he guesses correctly, his fingers now thrusting into you at a slow pace.

“Yeah- just faster,” you say.

You feel his thumb on your pussy, not doing anything, and it distracts you from the delicious feeling of his fingers inside of you.

“Can you do something else with your thumb,” you complain, and Peter’s mouth falls open as if he’s been caught red handed.

“I-I‘ve seen that in porn so I thought it might feel good but uh.”

“If you’re looking for my clit, that’s here,” you guide him. You’re so wet and swollen, it feels like he could just rest his thumb on your clit for a few minutes and you’d cum.

He gets into it again, his tongue pressing against his lip in concentration as he fingers you.

Peter is good at following your instructions, getting even quicker and more rough every time you ask him to.

His thumb brushes against your clit with every thrust and it adds to that special feeling that brings you closer to your release with every second.

You’re scrunching your shirt between your fingers harder with every time Peter moves his fingers in and out of your wet pussy. You whine when he hits a particularly deep spot inside of you, and he presses his fingertips even deeper inside of you.

Peter pushes his fingers up and into you and suddenly you feel the urge to—

With a high pitched gasp you squirt all over Peter’s chest, as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had washes through you.

Your mouth hangs open, so does Peter’s. While his eyes tell you this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen you can’t stop the embarrassment you feel just a second after your orgasm is over.

“Wow-” he starts.

“I’m so sorry,” you say at the same time.

“W-what, no? What? I deliberately did that. That was so sexy, no need to say sorry at all.”

“How do you know how to make a girl squirt?”

He blushes, his fingers still inside of you, “I, when I googled the thing about um dick sizes I came across the whole C spot thing.”

“It’s G.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re cute,” you say. You press your lips against his, but his fingers push into you further again and you jump.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles, pulling his fingers out of you. He casually licks his fingers that are coated in your arousal, humming to himself at the taste.

You don’t comment on it, fearing you’ll become horny again if you think about it too much.

He lets you go to the bathroom first, and when you come back you see his stained shirt on the floor.

“Should I help you wash that? It’d be a bit awkward if May found that in the washing.”

“Oh yeah, thanks. Uh I’ll just do it.”

He comes back a few minutes later in a fresh shirt and boxers, the bulge now gone. After throwing his wet t-shirt over the radiator he joins you on the bed.

You both lie there in silence, tired but also tense as you wonder what this means.

“You know for some reason I always imagine having my first time with you. Even though, up until today at least, I didn’t think of you as more than a friend,” you admit, quickly adding, “I mean if today even meant something…”

“I hope it did. It meant something to me,” he says.

“Good.” You take his hand, and you smile at each other.

“I always imagine having sex for the first time with you too. That’s why I was so worried in the first place when I heard that girls are so concerned about the pain and would prefer someone with a small dick for their first time... So you don’t think my dick is too big?”

You giggle, “Your dick is perfect, Peter. And I’m sure we’ll make it fit once we’re both ready.”

“So you want us to be together?” He asks, hopeful.

You simply kiss him, your hands cupping his cheeks. You feel him smile into the kiss.

“You just made me squirt, Pete. You’re not going anywhere,” you smile.

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on leaving,” he says before he kisses you silly.

[thollandneedy]

Someday is Today | ll

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Assistant!Reader

Summary: For the past five years, you and Tom were comfortable raising your son together. Everything was fine, but as your lives take a turn; nothing seems to be the same.

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), mentions of periods, vomiting, talks of gang violence and death, mentions of pregnancy

Word Count: 5793

A/N: So glad everyone is loving the series so far! I am beyond in love with it and I’m so happy you all are as well! There’s a survey to fill out at the end of the chapter so don’t forget to do so! Enjoy! 💕💕💕

Disclaimer: The moodboard doesn't represent what Reader looks like, it's simply my interpretation of her for a visual of the fic. I don't specify physical appearance in my writing so it can be inclusive and anyone can read it.

*don't copy/repost/translate my work, I don't consent to it*

You shifted in your bed, the sheets ruffling underneath you. You quickly covered your eyes from the sun, the feeling of a hangover already setting in. You couldn’t remember the last time you drank that much. Your tolerance has decreased ever since you had your son.

Stretching as you moved to your other side, you were going to grab onto a pillow, hoping that you could fit a few more minutes of shut-eye before Theo came home. But when your hand grazed over where your pillow should be, you were met with the feeling of a body.

Instantly your brows furrowed, heartbeat quickening at the possibility of a stranger in your bed. There was no way you were that drunk to have a one-night stand, right?

Keeping your eyes closed, pushing off the confrontation, you didn’t want to know who was next to you. But gaining courage, you slowly peeled your eyes open and found no other than Tom.

Hugging the sheets to your body, you didn’t realize you were completely naked underneath. Tom most likely nude as well. You truly wished this was one of those situations where you two ended up so drunk your coordination was off and you didn’t sleep together.

But based on the fact that you caught sight of a ripped condom package, you figured you were wrong.

Trying to get out of this situation, you made your way to sneak out of bed but you were stopped when you heard as Tom began to stir awake. He seemed unaware that he wasn’t in his room, the way his brows furrowed at the sun and he let out a yawn made your heart flutter.

It felt right, domestic even.

Too caught up in daydreaming, you met his eyes as they opened, a look of shock written across his features while he analyzed the situation at hand. His mouth gaped wide as he couldn’t process words and all you could do was patiently wait for him to catch up.

Before either had the chance to say anything, the door opened.

“Mommy! Look what Nana and I made!” Theo came running in, a card in his hand as he jumped on the bed, a small gasp leaving his lips when he saw Tom too. “Daddy! You’re here too!” he exclaimed, growing more excited to see both his Mom and Dad in the same bed.

“Hey, Teddy,” Tom forced a grin, trying to cover himself as much as he could. “You know better than to barge in,” he scolded the four-year-old, Theo shaking his head knowing he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Mommy always leaves the door open so I can come in the morning,” he explained, moving over to crawl under the covers. Before you were about to expose yourselves to your son, Tom hugged him tightly, keeping him on top of the sheets.

“Well isn’t that sweet,” Tom forced out a smile, realizing the reason his son came barging in was that you don’t seem to have any boundaries set.

“Teddy!” you heard Nikki call out for the boy. “You can’t run out like that, your mother will be out in-” she was cut off by herself when she caught a glimpse of you and Tom together in the bed.

“Oh my gosh, Teddy, let’s give your parents some privacy,” she held out her hand, calling Theo over. You and Tom watched as he reluctantly followed when you both told him he needed to leave. He had a sad step in his walk before he held onto Niki’s hand.

“We’ll be in the kitchen,” she smirked, sending you both an all-knowing look before she shut the door behind her.

You both let out a sigh of relief as you heard their footsteps depart, your bedroom filled with silence as you both contemplated what to say.

“You seriously leave the door open?!” Tom was the first to say something, scolding you slightly.

“It’s not like I have to worry about this happening!” you gestured between the two of you, sitting up against the headboard, rolling your eyes at his outburst. You readjusted the sheets around you, crossing your arms over your chest.

“My own mother caught me in bed,” he groaned, head falling back on the pillows. “I’m a grown man in my own house and she catches me in bed,” he squeezed his eyes shut at the recurring thought.

You only rolled your eyes at his exaggeration. Sure Niki caught you in bed and you couldn’t help but notice the way she looked at you two like she was thinking you finally got together. But you had more pressing matters.

“Please tell me we didn’t have sex,” you dropped your head into your hands, groaning.

“We had sex,” he bluntly said, finding a ripped condom package in the sheets. “At least we used protection,” he shrugged, but as he searched for a used condom; he couldn’t find it.

You rolled your eyes at him, you didn’t want to believe you had sex with Tom- again. Sure you’ve thought about it, but why break something if you can’t fix it. That’s the saying, right?

“Do you remember anything?” you asked, swinging your legs over the side, hoping to uncover the events of last night. “Cover your eyes,” you pointed at him, as you wrapped the sheets around you, Tom using the duvet to cover himself.

“Is that really necessary, I’ve seen you naked before,” he protested about to say another word when you shot him a look. “We saw each other naked last night,” he mumbled under his breath but you heard.

“Tom,” you warned when he still didn’t make an effort to shield his vision. You heard as he let out a reluctant sigh, making you smile when he covered his eyes. “Thank you,” you quickly moved around your room, grabbing some clothes.

“It’s not that big of a deal if you think about it,” he said, fighting the urge to remove his hand but he didn’t want you to get more mad. “We move on from this,” he huffed, lying through his teeth, deep down he didn’t want to look past this.

You turned your shoulder to look at him before you managed to pull some sweatpants on, grabbing a bra from the draw while you felt the pit in your stomach, your heart ached a little when he said that. Did he want to move on from this?

Personally, you didn’t want to. But you had to- for the sake of Theo.

“Tom, our son is getting his hopes up, it’s bad enough he thinks our family isn’t normal because we aren’t together,” your face fell as you sat back on the bed.

You both sat in silence for a bit while you managed to get some socks on. Tom saw the way you were thinking, your face scrunched up in concentration.

“We’ll just deny it, say that you were too tired to go upstairs to your room last night,” you stated, finding it believable yourself.

“Darling,” he sighed, pulling you close. “He knows we love each other, it’s the kids at school that make him feel that something is wrong,” he pressed, kissing the top of your head. “Besides, would it be the worse thing if we made his biggest wish come true?” he suggested, your heart fluttering again.

“Tom,” you said, a hum coming from him. “Get dressed,” you added before you pulled away from his hold and out your door.

~~~~~

“Mommy and Daddy do love each other in a kissing way!” Theo cheered, boasting in his seat as Niki fed him some lunch.

You slowed down in your steps when you reached the doorway to the kitchen. The clinking and clatter of plates and utensils sounding from where you were standing. Your face fell when you realized he was starting to make assumptions.

“I’m not too sure about that, Teddy,” Niki sighed, based on what she saw, she hoped it was true. But she couldn’t get his hopes up either.

In her perfect world, you would have already been married to Tom. Theo wouldn’t live in a fantasy world and she even hoped you might have a few more kids in the future. But that wasn’t the case.

“They were under the covers,” he stated. “Without any clothes on,” he whispered-shouted, causing Niki to giggle at his antics.

Your eyes widened in shock. Theo was smarter than he let on, always figuring out the small details in situations. He never failed to surprise you with what he finds. It made a heat rush to your face in embarrassment; your four-year-old knowing you and Tom were naked in bed together.

You laughed under your breath while you rested your head against the doorframe, you closed your eyes from hurt when you heard what he said next.

“I wish Mommy and Daddy were together,” he began. “Jack’s parents aren’t together because they hate each other, but Mommy and Daddy don’t hate each other,” he shrugged. “They love each other,” he stated, looking up at his Nana.

“People can love each other and not be together,” Niki tried to explain. “Like I love you and you love me,” she pinched his chin, chuckling when he groaned.

“Mommy and Daddy love each other in a kissing way,” he elaborated. “Like you and Poppa love each other in a kissing way,” he used his grandparents as an example, a small smile forming on her face when her heart melted.

“We’ll just have to see how things play out, Teddy,” she coaxed him to calm down enough to focus back on his sandwich.

“Okay,” he mumbled, face held up by his hand as he munched on his food defeated.

Your heart shattered at his broken voice. It was all a mistake. But you knew you had to push through, shove all your feelings down, and put a smile on for your son.

“Hey, Teddy!” you greeted, making yourself known. “Thanks again, Niki!” you thanked her for taking care of Theo.

Tom let out a huff as he watched from the end of the hall. He could tell what you were doing. He knew you weren’t ever going to bring this up again, it was an oversight. The love you made that night completely pushed under the rug.

And someday Tom was going to regret allowing you to do so.

~~~~~

Sitting in his chair, waiting for the meeting to start, Tom couldn’t help but remember the night you two shared three months ago. Just like he predicted, you spoke nothing of it. But it wasn’t like you prevented him from thinking about it. The way you moaned out his name, your skin pressed against one another.

It was heaven even thinking about it.

Getting up from the couch, you led Tom to your room, his foot kicking the door shut before you stepped backward until your legs hit your bed. The two of you were giggling like teenagers.

Slowly but surely, Tom managed to slip your dress off your body, your skin was so smooth and soft underneath his fingertips.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he whispered, gawking at your frame as he dipped his head down to suck on your breasts. He didn’t mind the changes of your body, it was still perfect in his eyes and he knew you would bring the same amounts of pleasure to him as you previously did.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he heard as you let out a breathy moan, his dick twitching at that sound.

“Do you want to stop?” he pulled away, not wanting to pressure you, but you quickly shook your head, letting him proceed when you climbed onto the bed, pulling him on top of you.

“You’re amazing,” he groaned, dipping his head down to kiss you. “Do you have protection?” he asked, part of him hoping you were on birth control. He desperately missed the way you felt bare around him.

“I think I have some in my drawer,” you pointed next to you. “Here,” you reached, pulling one out of the box.

His mind was incoherent, but the only thought in his head was to be with you.

He fumbled with the condom for a bit, your hand snaking down his abdomen before you managed to unbuckle his pants.

Watching as you slipped off your underwear, he pulled the rest of his clothes off. He smiled at you, eyes raking over the sight of your dripping core. He groaned when you slipped your lip between your teeth. He was slow to crawl over you, wanting to savor the sight of you naked beneath him.

He ripped the condom open with his teeth, pulling it out of its package. About to put it on, you distracted him with a kiss, he grinned against your lips, hand reaching for yours. He was so engulfed with you, your scent drove him wild. All he wanted to do was make sure you were his.

You were both too into each other to realize the condom fell off your bed. And being so intoxicated, you two already thought you were protected. He groaned when you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

He slowly eased his way inside to get you adjusted. A strangled moan escaping him. You were so wet. It felt magical to be inside you again. He never knew it could feel better than he remembered.

“Darling,” he breathed out, intertwining your other hands together. “God, I missed this,” he groaned, nuzzling your noses together.

“Thomas,” you moaned into his ear, your lips kissing along his jawline, squeezing his hands when he began to thrust.

He watched as you threw your head back when he reaches that spot inside you, your chests rubbing together when he fell into a pace. He forgot how easy it was to fall into bliss when he was with you.

He hissed when you moved your hands down his back, leaving scratches as you raked your fingernails over his ass, forcing him deeper.

“I love you,” he panted above you, running his hand over your leg and hiking it over his hip, giving him a better angle. “So fucking perfect.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, your eyes heavy-lidded, still managing to keep eye contact with him. “I love you,” you reached up to kiss him again, your mouths molding together as your tongues slipped into each other’s mouths.

He soon felt that you were about to cum, your ankles hooking around him as his pace grew sloppy. He knew he was close as well, your walls clenching around him only fueled him more. Before he knew it, he released himself inside you, his cum painting your walls.

Your hot breaths mixed as you calmed down. Laughs escaping you when you realized what you did.

Falling beside you, he covered you both with the sheets as he pulled you into his side. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, your hand running over his chest to calm him down.

“You still have it,” you giggled.

“Tom, are you even listening to a word I’ve said?” you repeated yourself, wondering why he’s been dazed lately.

You squinted your eyes at him when he readjusted himself in his seat. Only moments ago you came into his office after compiling a list of things he needed to get done this afternoon. He was mindlessly clicking his pen, you didn’t even notice he wasn’t paying attention until you heard the repeated sound- it drove you insane.

“I’m sorry, darling, what is it?” he was pulled out of his thoughts, displeased to see your annoyed look.

“The meeting got moved up an hour, so I pushed your appointment with Mr. Benard until six-thirty, that should leave you about an hour to pick up Theo from karate,” you read from your appointment book, shutting it a bit too hard as you let out a sigh.

He saw as you massaged your temples, your appointment book tucked under your arm. Your brows were furrowed, eyes shut while you tried to focus.

“Darling, are you alright? You seem tense,” he asked, slowly approaching his words to not anger you more just in case.

“Why would you think that Tom?” you taunted, removing your hands from your head, your voice growing angrier even with his cautious attempts.

You studied him as he sat up in his chair, you also caught the way he adjusted his pants before he stood up, walking over to you.

“No reason,” he shrugged, playing it off before he leaned against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest, he offered you a smile but you weren’t having it.

“Here are the notes you need for the meeting, I’ll be in the kitchen,” you slammed a stack of manila folders on his desk, causing him to flinch.

Now Tom wasn’t one to flinch, he’s a mob boss for crying out loud. So if you were the reason for it, then something was wrong.

The past few days you’ve been irritated, angry at everything. He wasn’t sure if it was work, he felt that he would know if it was. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint the issue, but he did have his suspicions.

“Darling?” he walked up to you slowly, your back facing him as you chewed on something. “Watcha eatin’?” he clasped his hands together, finding you spooning some chocolate cake into your mouth.

“Cake,” you stated, your voice laced with a tone that sounded uninterested.

You went back to ignoring him, divulging in the taste of chocolate and swiss meringue buttercream on your tongue. You only shook your head when you couldn’t satisfy that craving you were having. You wanted something sweet.

“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning on the counter right next to you, brows furrowed and eyes filled with concern.

“I’m spitting out sunshine, Tom,” you raised your brows, sarcasm filling your voice now as you threw the spoon onto the plate, groaning out in frustration.

“I just wanted to make sure,” he chuckled, finding your sarcasm amusing. “Why are you having dessert at three in the afternoon?” he checked his Rolex, finding it odd that you were eating cake.

“Felt like it,” you shrugged. “Do we have any ice cream?” you changed the subject, moving to go towards the fridge, your heels clicking against the tile floor.

“No, Theo and I ate it last night,” he explained, recalling how messy Theo ate his during their midnight snack. “I could get some after my appointment,” he offered, his heart dropping when he noticed you crying. “What’s wrong?” he stepped in front of you, pulling you close to his chest.

“I don’t know!” you cried into his shirt. “I just really want some ice cream,” you shook against him, your emotions completely out of control. “And I have this stupid headache that won’t go away.”

“Still? You’ve had a headache the past three days,” he pulled you away from him to look at you. Your eyes tracing to your makeup stains on his white shirt. “Are you sick?” he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead.

“I’m fine,” you protested, shoving him away, growing annoyed again.

Then it clicked.

The mood swings, your headaches, and cravings. Tom realized you were getting your period. So now how was he going to tell you without you getting angry?

“Darling, do you think maybe,” he trailed, hinting at something. “Maybe it’s almost that time of the month?” he winced, not wanting to anger you again.

“What are you implying, Thomas?” you pointed a finger at him before it dawned on you. “Oh my gosh!” Tears began to well in your eyes once more. “I’m never like this! Why am I like this?” you sniffled and he was already wrapping his arms around you again.

“Shhh, it’s okay, go take a nap, I got the afternoon covered, okay?” he pressed a kiss to your forehead before he pushed you off into the direction of your room.

On the way to your bedroom, you figured Tom was right. It’s been a while since you got your period, almost three months if you remembered, so maybe symptoms were worse.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

~~~~~

You woke up quite late from your nap, it was almost six meaning Tom was already on his way to pick up Theo. You took this time to get dinner ready, snacking on some whipped cream and strawberries.

The more you thought about Tom’s suspicions, the more you realized he was right. The headaches, mood swings, cravings for sweets, especially chocolates, and now noticed that your breasts were sore.

Your self-diagnosis eased your mind and now you were happily watching a movie with Theo, waiting for Tom to come home.

“Teddy, baby, you’re pressing hard on Mommy’s tummy,” you grimaced, your cramps coming back later in the evening, only furthering the assumptions of your period.

“I’m protecting the baby from the scary movie,” he defended. You stifled a laugh, looking at the screen that was showing Coraline. Although, you traced a step back.

“What do you mean baby? There’s no baby,” you shook your head, pulling him to sit in your lap. “The only baby here is you,” you pinched his cheeks, covering him in kisses.

“Noooo,” he dragged out, moving from your hold. “There’s a baby in there,” he pointed his little finger into your stomach. “Amy’s mom has a baby in her stomach,” he said.

Now it occurred to you that he probably suspected just because Amy’s mother was pregnant, you were too.

“Aww, Teddy, Amy’s mom is pregnant, I’m not pregnant so there’s no baby,” you explained, running your hand over his hair, a weight coming off your shoulders. A pregnancy scare is something you didn’t need right now.

“Whatever you say, Mommy,” he shook his head, letting out the most exaggerated sigh before cuddling back into your side.

You mentally let out a sigh of relief. You’ve seen too many stories about children finding out their mother is pregnant before they do. So you were glad Theo only had this assumption because Amy’s mom is pregnant.

Again; that’s what you told yourself.

“I’m home!” Tom announced, the front door shutting, your thoughts being shoved to the back of your head.

“Daddy!” Theo stood up, jumping on the couch as he heard his father’s steps down the hall until he made his appearance at the archway.

“Teddy Bear missed you bud,” Tom hugged him, picking him up before dropping him back on the couch, something the kid loved. “Hi, darling,” he greeted with a kiss on your cheek. “I brought you ice cream,” he smiled, holding up a plastic bag with three different tubs of the cold delicacy.

You smiled, thanking him as you rested your head on the back of the couch to watch as he went to the kitchen to put them away.

“There are leftovers if you want anything,” you said, knowing he probably hasn’t eaten anything.

“Thanks, darling,” he said, pulling the fridge door open before his phone began to go off.

You heard him answer, your attention drifting to Theo next to you, he was trying so hard to put on a brave face while the rest of the movie played out. You even admit that Coraline isn’t suitable for children, but he insisted. You were quickly interrupted when Tom was standing next to you.

“It’s for you,” Tom handed the phone to you, both of your brows furrowed when you held it up to your ear, greeting the person on the other side.

“Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to be speaking with you again, I’m Mona Saints,” a lady spoke through the phone.

“Oh, hi, what can I help you with?” you sat up straighter, the blonde bob lady popping up in your memory.

Tom made his round the couch, pulling Theo into his lap as the two boys stared at you curiously. You looked at them, two exact faces looking back at you. It made your heart flutter at the two and you tried your best not to laugh.

“It’s more of what I can help you with, do you mind meeting at Chez Maman right away?” she asked, drawing you back to the matter.

“Is it urgent?” you questioned. Tom eyeing you weirdly.

You didn’t necessarily know why she was calling you so late at this hour, but you hoped it could be put off, you didn’t want to miss your night with your boys.

“It kinda is,” she stated, making you groan internally. “I’ll meet you there in half an hour,” she hung up, not giving you a choice.

“Who was it?” Tom asked, seeing your brows scrunch up in confusion.

Once you handed his phone back, you reached for yours to check the time before standing up.

“Mona Saints, she wants to meet with me at Chez Maman, I’ll tell you later,” you walked out of the living room, scratching your scalp in contemplation. “I’ll see what she wants,” the two boys following you down the hall.

“Mommy will be back before bedtime,” you promised your little one before you shut your door.

Tom was left dumbfounded, confused that you were leaving so suddenly. He stared at the closed door before turning to the boy in his arms, Theo and him looking at each other expectedly.

~~~~~

You were surprised to see her at such a quick time, but the waiter seated you directly across from her at the lavish French restaurant.

Meeting her briefly at the gala three months ago, you weren’t expecting to see her again and such a while later. Most importantly, what would a lawyer want with you?

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Y/N,” she smirked, greeting you with a handshake. “I’m sure you have places to be so I will make this quick,” she gestured to your chair.

“Thank you, this call was very unexpected,” you sighed, placing your bag on the floor, scooting your chair in before you were comfortable.

She briefly reassured you, pulling her leather briefcase from underneath her chair. It was one of those pretty ones that looked like a normal purse and you remembered Tom would gift you an expensive one each year on your work anniversary.

She reached inside and pulled out a file, holding it in her hands before she opened her mouth to speak. Her blush pink lips curving in a smile.

“Sebastian Stan, owner of Stan Manufacturing and Co, aka James,” Mona placed his file in front of you, your brows furrowing as you opened the cover, multiple of his mugshots appearing. His blue eyes staring back at yours and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“I know of him,” you gulped, closing the folder to hide his face, the sick feeling in your stomach grew.

“I’m aware,” she smiled, taking a sip of her wine. “His death was… a tragedy to many,” she suggested. “He knew with the life he led, he needed to be prepared,” she pulled another file from her bag. “Which led to him writing this.”

Last Will and Testament of Sebastian Stan.

Your brows furrowed as you read it, wondering why she was showing you this. You figured of all people, you’d be the last to see this.

“I’ll leave you to read it, but to sum it up, he left everything to you,” she leaned back, resting her elbow on the back of her chair. “His estates, his businesses- all under your name if you sign right here,” she handed you a pen, tapping the signature line with her red-polished finger.

“Can you excuse me for a moment,” you paused, shooting out of your seat and asking a waiter for the bathroom.

The news was sudden, your heart beat rapidly when you finally made it to the bathroom. The dim lights seem to help with your headache, but your nausea grew when you repeated Mona’s words in your head.

There was no way Seb would leave everything to you. And after five years, why are you being contacted now? Everything and nothing made sense.

Gazing at your reflection, you saw how ill you looked. Now after a few days of ignoring the constant headaches and your nausea, it caught up.

You covered your mouth before you ran to an open stall. Hunched over, you let everything turn out, your stomach churning as it emptied.

“You okay in there?” you heard Mona knock on the stall. “We could reschedule or even take you back to my place, I have ginger ale and saltines at home,” she offered. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” she smiled when you opened the door.

“Thank you, Mona, but I think I need to go home,” you washed your hands, making sure to rinse your mouth before you straightened up again. “We can reschedule, in the meantime, can I have a copy of Seb’s will?” you turned to face her, a smile on her face as she handed you one.

“Sure thing, call me when,” she patted your shoulder before walking out.

You ran a hand over your face, leaning back on the counter. Reaching for your phone, you checked your period tracking app, wanting to see how long it’s been since you had your period. You scrolled back until you saw your last log.

It was two weeks before Tom’s gala, you remember how stressed you were leading up to it, but also being pissed off because your period just had to come around.

Tapping your forehead, you tried to think why you haven’t had your period until it dawned on you. Your eyes widening in shock when you looked at the date of Tom’s gala, of course, you had to be ovulating that week.

You choked down nausea when you considered the possibilities and called the only person who could help you.

~~~~~

“Pregnant?” Matt gasped when you explained why you came over with a bag filled with pregnancy tests. “With who!? You don’t have sex anymore,” he baffled. You chose to ignore his last comment before replying.

“Three months ago, Tom and I may have hooked up,” you shrugged, hoping to not get a huge reaction out of him.

“YOU AND TOM SLEPT TOGETHER AGAIN!?” he shouted. “AND YOU’RE PREGNANT WITH HIS CHILD AGAIN!?”

“I might,” you rolled your eyes. “But I am late,” you sighed in defeat, sitting on one of the bar stools. “I am so stupid, I don’t even know if we used protection,” you groaned. “Theo even said I’m pregnant,” you shook your head.

“Aww he’s like one of those kids on TikTok,” he cooed, but he quickly shut his mouth when he saw your state. “What are you gonna do?” he asked.

He came around to the barstool where you were and rubbed your back soothingly. You knew you could always count on him. He’s the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

“Take a test and see if it’s true,” you nodded towards the bag, he slowly nodded, letting you go to the bathroom.

You took your time in the bathroom, letting each stick soak before you set a timer. Most took five minutes to get a result and you recall these five minutes being the worst.

It was different this time though, you didn’t have Tom by your side. This whole thing was unplanned, he didn’t know, you didn’t know. And for sure you were afraid of what he was going to think.

Sure after Theo was born, you joked about having another kid, but after five years and falling into a routine; it just didn’t make sense. Hell, even your whole contractual agreement with Tom, in the beginning, didn’t make sense, but it ended up working out.

Maybe just maybe, this will too.

The sound of the timer went off. You were about to look over to see before you hesitated, opening the door instead.

You quickly hugged Matt, tears streaming down your cheeks as you let it all out. He already knew you were feeling doubtful.

“I’m here for you, Y/N,” he squeezed you tightly, reassuring you.

“Can you look? I’m too nervous,” you walked away standing in the doorway, a hand placed on your stomach, the other wiping your tears away.

He nodded gently before he made his way over to the counter, his face was blank as he read all the tests you took. Your heart beating quicker when you couldn’t read him. He then turned to face you, eyes filled with happiness, sadness? You couldn’t tell.

“It’s negative,” he stated, your heart dropping the moment he said it. He could see your shoulders slumped. “But that’s good news, right?”

“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged, forcing a smile. “It’d be weird to have another baby with a man who’s my boss but is also the father of my child,” you shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest, coughing to cover your voice cracking.

“Y/N,” Matt said, catching your attention. “You want another baby?” you nodded to his question, your confession to a subconscious thought you had. “Good, because you’re pregnant,” he smiled.

“I am?” your eyes widened and you walked over to where he was standing, all the tests reading “positive”. “Oh my gosh,” you chocked out a few tears of joy.

“Congrats, babe,” he hugged you tight.

~~~~~

The drive home felt weird. You were both excited yet nervous. For the first time in five years, everything in your life was changing and you didn’t know how to feel.

What if Tom didn’t want this baby? What if he was perfectly fine with Theo? What if he decides to kick you and Theo out and you have to raise this baby on your own?

But even worse, you didn’t have time to consider what was going on with Seb’s Will. Everything is all so sudden. How could you manage to run a mob while pregnant? Do you even want to run a mob? What would you tell Tom?

Before you knew it, you were safely home, the car parked to prevent you from crashing with all these questions.

You heard the light sounds of the tv, the dark room lit with only the light radiating from the show playing on the screen. As you made your way to the living room, you heard Theo’s little snores as he rested up against Tom’s chest.

Still not noticed, you walked in front of the couch, a few tears in your eyes. Tom caught your gaze, brows furrowed at your distressed state. Before he was given a chance to say anything, your mouth was already open.

“I’m pregnant.”

~~~~~

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[thollandneedy]

#no context

[thollandneedy]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Last updated: 25th July 2021, all my fanfics are in order of newest to oldest.

Some work might contain NSFW themes (slight smut/mentions of sex) and have been marked the same, minors DNI with NSFW.

—Please do not repost my work anywhere even if you give me credit, I do not want my work distributed but reblogs/feedback is always appreciated ♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Seasons - Peter goes through several phases of love in different seasons [written for my 1k sleepover]

Bit of angst, longing, cheating (not by Peter/reader), fluff, soft boy!Peter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ What’s The Date Today? - Peter chooses the worst day to forget [written for my 1k sleepover]

Angst & fluff

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Just A Bad Day - You’re having a bad day but Peter, as always, makes it better [requested]

Angst, fluff, boyfriend!Peter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Something About You - Something about Peter irked you to death even though everyone thought he was sweet. Something about you screamed untouchable and that made Peter feel something he couldn’t understand [requested]

Angst, fluff, jealous Peter, enemies to lovers

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ “It’s always been you” - Peter and reader are both shy babies who are way too shy to admit that they like each other [requested]

Fluff, friends to lovers, boyfriend!Peter, aunt May cameo

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Kiss A Little More - A very mushy, clingy first kiss with Peter [requested]

Fluff, friend to boyfriend!Peter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ She Doesn’t Even Know - Peter and you have been best friends all your life. When one night, you and Peter make plans to study at your place for the upcoming exam, Peter finds a used condom in your bin and loses his shit because well…

NSFW, mention of sex, angst, fluff, friends to lovers

[thollandneedy]

what about... having Peter masturbate in front if you HSKJSLSSJLJSKJ

Peter knows you won’t cover the expanse of his whole hand with a veneer of saliva— knows that you’re putting on a show so that he loses all semblance of control and then you can laugh in his face and taunt him for not being able to show an iota of self-restraint.

That still does not stop him from trembling with unbridled desire when your pretty honey-swollen lips take in two of his fingers down to the knuckle, leaving them spit-glazed.

“Wet enough?” You ask.

Peter doesn’t even bother hiding the scissoring movement. You’d ask— demand to see anything he tries to sheathe away from your sight.

“Yeah…” His voice is faraway, distrait as he uses his thumb to smear the spit. He clears his throat. “I just think—” It’s palpable his reverie still has him in a hold, the formation of the sentence absconds him and instead of finishing the sentence, he makes the decision to lift his fingers up to his mouth. Just like yours had.

His eyes tentatively meet yours and he’s prepared himself for an onslaught of derisory remarks. Not that he would complain, not with how every single one precipitates intense arousal within him. He’s startled when he sees your soft as rose-petal mouth part, the color of your eyes consumed by obsidian.

“Can you do it?” Peter begs.

“I want you to do it.” You rasp out, feeling your thighs slick with arousal. You would never miss an opportunity to see Peter take himself apart. “Get yourself off for me.”

Peter let his head fall back, needy and desperate.

He wraps his spit-slicked hand around his cock and sets a preliminary pace, subsequently lifting his gaze for your approval. You remain taciturn. He opts for something slow, gladly taking your silence as approval.

His touch is zephyr-light, your lip twitches at the teasing simulation— his attempt at mimicking your technique is endearing but with the way peter’s eyebrows stitch together into a frown, you know it’s not working. He’s desperately looking for something more while simultaneously trying to imitate you.

Peter’s lips tremble with pent up frustration.

You hide a smile and then settle on offering him a reprieve. “Why are you teasing yourself? You know you’re not any good at it. All you have to do is make yourself cum. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“I wanna do it the way you do it,” he protests but his hand gradually picks up the pace. “I like the way you do it.”

“Only I can do it so that it feels good,” you reason but Peter is beyond reason at this point.

“Then you do it,” he volleys back petulantly.

You raise a challenging eyebrow. “Why would I? You can’t even fucking ask nicely. Hurry up and fuck your hand while you still have my attention.”

His eyes blink an avian flutter and he knows he has no other option except to comply with your delegations. He brings his hand to the head, squeezing lightly before continuing with exponential strokes. It’s not long before he’s rocking his hips forward, fucking himself into his hand, his mouth open (you think you see a hint of drool), stare locked onto yours.

His breathing quickens, stomach muscles flexing and you instantly notice him slowing down, falling back into a habitual pattern that you would set when you’re staving off his orgasm and frown discontentedly.

“Peter, if you slow down…” You trail off, a vestige of a threat filling the rest in.

A gasp is wrought out of his throat, the inflection of his voice fluctuating into a higher octave, “I have to, I won’t last. I’ll come, I’ll come!”

“Yeah,” your own voice is as wrecked his, the asperity of it is lost by now. “That’s the plan. Where do you wanna come?”

His gaze drops and your eyebrows raise, soft mouth shaping into a mocking oh. He averts his stare but it’s too late, you’ve already seen. Standing on his bed, you slide off your underwear before shuffling closer to him on your knees.

“Tell me where.” You’re close, so close; he could kiss you if he was moderately coordinated in his current state of mind.

“On it. On—“ He groans and cuts himself off with another thought that he just can’t keep to himself, dark eyes flitting back to your face, rubbing his palm up and down his cock. “You’re so pretty. You’re really pretty. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

You laugh, enchanted by the spell of his sweet words and Peter, just as enthralled by the sound of your laughter, instinctively tries to smile back at you despite the quiver of his lips. “Focus, Pete.”

He gets up onto his knees, head knocking into yours clumsily as he gets up as close as he can. The wet tip of his dick makes brief contact with the soft skin on your thighs. You can’t tell if he’s done it on purpose— he’s hiding it well, lips biting down hard onto his lower lip.

He comes with an elongated groan, thick spurts of cum coating the surface of your pussy a glossy-white, one hand pulling you in by the waist and the other caressing himself through his orgasm.

You shudder when he smears the mess he makes along your folds with two of his fingers and grip his hand, holding it at his mouth. “Since you like licking them so much. Lick your cum off.”

He bites back a smile. “Can you do it?”

[ share your spider-man / peter parker thirsts 💌. ]

[thollandneedy]

Can u do a story where tom and reader are doing body shots and it just leads to smut?

Body Shot

paring: tom holland x reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol, +18 (if you are a minor do not read this) and smut.

word count: 1000+

A/N: hi anon!! hope u like it, sorry if this take so long but i was busy w my school, and again, english is not my first language, if something is wrong please tell me!!! have a great reading <3

Like every Friday, the Hollands invited you to a party at their house. You've known them since you were little and as you are very close to them, especially Tom, you are always invited to these occasions.

You and Tom have always had a special relationship, since you were a teenager you've always been very close and even now that Tom is a super famous Hollywood actor your relationship remains the same. Everyone around you realizes that you like each other, except you.

"Hey Y/N are you ready? We're going to be late, again..." Haz shouted from the other side of the house, already with his cell phone in his hand to order a taxi, because, to be honest, neither of them would be able to driving after the party.

"I'm coming! I'm just putting my earring on, one more minute"

"You said that half an hour ago" grumbled the blonde.

"Ok, ok! I'm ready, see? It was just a minute"

"Okay, let's go then"

You two got into the taxi and headed towards the Hollands' house.

The house was completely full, there were people in every corner of the place, some a little drunk, others just dancing. The music was loud, really loud, but after taking a few shots of tequila the volume wouldn't make that much difference.

"You arrived!" yelled Harry coming towards you already with two beers in hand "Here is for you"

"Wow, I just got here and you already want to get me drunk Harry?"

"Everyone knows you're more fun when you're drunk"

"Should I be offended?"

"Take it as a compliment"

From a distance you can see a pair of brown eyes, Tom, and as usual he was handsome. As simple as his outfit was, a tight white blouse that showed all his muscles and dark jeans, he was still perfect.

"You arrived!"

"Yes we arrived Tom"

"Wow you look beautiful"

"You're not bad either"

"So, we were already putting together a game of Truth or Dare"

"Really? Truth or Dare? How old are you? 16?"

"It's going to be cool Y/N, let's go!" Haz said pulling you by your shoulder.

"It's true Y/N, you'll like it!" Tom winked and pulled you by the arm towards the people in circle already formed in the corner of the room.

"Okay! But let me have a shot of tequila first, I'm too sober for that"

"Here take it soon"

After turning the shot, you felt the bitter taste of the tequila down your throat and you grimaced at the bitter taste.

"Ready, let's play!"

After half an hour of play, and a few kisses, the bottle stops on you again.

"Truth-"

"No! You asked for the truth every time, it's time for a dare, and the dare will be for you to do a body shot on Tom"

"Wait, it's not worth it"

"Come on, do it quickly and that's it"

That, of all the things you imagined could happen today, was definitely not on the list, and that terrified you.

"Alright, let's get on with it."

So you took the salt and put some on Tom's neck and rubbed lemon on his lips. After taking a deep breath, you sat on his lap.

You started sucking the salt off his neck, licking it slowly until you were sure all the salt was gone, took the shot of tequila and went to Tom's lips to suck the lemon.

That's when everything started to heat up, as soon as you joined your lips to Tom's he pulled you into a deep kiss, grabbing your waist making you gasp, but as everything good ends, you were forced to stop as soon as you heard Sam speak .

"Go to a room, not here in front of everyone, that's disgusting."

"You know what? Yes, we're going to a room."

Summoning all your courage, which wasn't that much, you reached out towards Tom, making him stand up and head towards the bedroom on the second floor.

"Look I don't know what I said, you don't have to do anything, it was just the heat of the moment and-"

You were cut by Tom's lips in a hot, rushed kiss, as if this were his last kiss. Your tongues moved quickly and more and more Tom pushed you back until you fell onto the bed.

"Calm down Tom, we're drunk, it's not a good idea-"

"You think too much Y/N, just enjoy the moment" he said sucking your neck.

"Um-m, T-tom is serious, stop!"

"Why are you hesitating? I want it and you want it, isn't that enough?"

"You know what? Fuck off" You said attacking Tom's lips in another kiss.

During the kiss, your hands moved inside his shirt, smoothing his healed chest, and in a rush you took his shirt off, bringing your lips to his neck, where it descended until reaching the belt of his pants. Before you could even unbuckle your belt, Tom took your hands and spun you around until you were facing away from him.

His hands went straight to the zipper of your dress quickly taking it off leaving you only in your panties since you were not wearing a bra. Tom soon moved his lips towards your neck and his hands towards your breasts, making your nipples hard almost immediately. He pulled and pinched your nipples, massaging your breasts in a slow and torturous way. Very slowly, his hands moved down until they reached the edge of your panties, then ripping them apart.

"Hey! those panties were expensiv-"

You didn't even have time to finish the sentence because right then Tom pushed you leaving you on all fours on the bed with your ass cocked towards him.

"Then I buy as many panties as you want, but now I just want to fuck you"

After putting the condom on, Tom moved his fingers towards your clit, massaging it making sure to get you wet enough.

"So ready for me love, so wet"

"Hmm, Tom-m please"

"Please what princess? I need you to tell me"

"I need you inside me! Please"

And with that Tom thrust inside you making you both moan loudly. His hands traveled all over your body until they finally reached his neck, pulling you towards him making you stand on your knees, his other hand went towards your clitoris massaging it quickly.

"Shit! Tom! I'm-m, I'm coming"

"Come for me love, I'm coming too"

After a few more thrusts, the two of you reach your apex, making you crashing onto the bed.

"That was-"

"Wow"

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