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jahayla-parker · 9 months

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Crazed : Tom Holland x Reader

Descr: 8k wc, A crazed fan breaks into Tom's house when his girlfriend is home and she has to defend herself until Tom's security gets there.

Warnings: curse words, violence, stalker/crazy fan behavior, hostage situation, threats, danger, mentions of a break-in, (minor) injuries, hospital (brief), knife/blade, keys used as weapon.

Y/n rubbed her boyfriend Tom’s shoulders as he pinched the bridge of his nose. She knew he was stressing out over the recent safety concerns that had arisen for the couple. Y/n knew that Tom would handle it; even before the multiple promises he made to do so. But, she still wanted to wipe the frown off his face as he called his security team.

They had recently been made aware that there was an… overzealous fan of Tom’s that posed a risk to the couple’s safety. Tom’s brother and personal assistant Harry, had noticed someone was following them one afternoon. They contacted Tom’s security team immediately and had them look into it.

Allegedly, when the security personnel asked the fan to stop following the couple, things escalated. The fan had made numerous comments that concerned Tom’s security. The first was the fan’s statement on how they were Tom’s one true love; not y/n. The second was when the same fan commented that y/n needed to learn her place and stay away from Tom. Then of course came the standard stalkerish fan remarks such as claiming she knew where the couple had been at any given moment, that she had a shrine of Tom with photos that no one else had seen as she’d taken them herself, and that she was in love with Tom and knew he’d come around and choose her.

It wasn’t like Tom had no former experience with overzealous fans. But this was on a whole other level. The fact that this fan made his own security concerned for y/n, made Tom panic. Between his team's and his own suggestions, Tom had ensured that they always had at least two security guards with them.

Tom felt guilty for having to limit their privacy even more than normal when going on dates, or whenever they simply left the house. But, he refused to let something happen to y/n. Which was why he had to call his security team again today.

Earlier today Y/n had gotten a call from an unknown number. She always ignored calls from unknown numbers. As such, y/n had let the call go to voicemail. However, when she checked her voicemail, y/n felt the same panic Tom had been experiencing.

The fan who Tom had been worried about for several weeks by then had somehow found y/n’s personal phone number. Y/n knew it wasn’t super rare for celebrities and their friends and family to have their personal information leaked. But, the message that the fan left was very troubling.

The girl had threatened to harm y/n if she didn’t break up with Tom. She even went so far as to show she had the address of y/n’s work; as ‘proof to take her seriously’. The fan also had the address of y/n’s last residence. Y/n and Tom began living together months ago. But, technically y/n’s old apartment was still in her name as the lease wasn’t up for another month and a half.

When y/n told Tom about the voicemail, he immediately asked her to play it for him. His fury and fear skyrocketed as he heard the passion behind the fan’s voice. He couldn’t believe this was happening to begin with, much less to this extent. Tom was adamant something had to be done, starting with calling his security and demanding increased protection for y/n.

“We need to increase y/n’s security,” Tom ordered immediately upon his lead security officer answering his call. He felt y/n rest her head on his shoulder, rubbing his arm to try and calm him. Tom crooked his neck and placed a soft kiss to y/n’s head as he listened to his security guard’s response.

“No, you don’t understand,” Tom groaned, standing up from the couch. He began pacing their living room as he tried to keep himself in check. He couldn’t understand why his security wasn’t just listening to him. Y/n needed more security, immediately. “I’m going to send you something,” Tom said, pulling the phone from his ear just long enough to forward the threatening voicemail.

“Tommy,” y/n whispered as Tom put the phone back up to his ear as he waited on a response. She smiled warmly at him when he looked her way. Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “breathe please”.

Tom nodded in response to y/n’s request. He took a few deep breaths as he faintly heard the voicemail being played in the background. Tom hummed as he heard his security guard call for another officer to look into the voicemail. “See?” Tom asked in frustration, “she needs more security”.

Y/n watched as Tom nodded along to whatever his security was suggesting. She sighed in relief at seeing his lessening worry. She didn’t know what they were telling Tom, but it was helping. Y/n kissed Tom’s neck right under his earlobe as she waited for him to end the call and update her.

“Tom, look, I know you’re worried, but-” y/n sighed. Tom wanted her to not go in to work today. To be fair, it was a suggestion from his security when he called them last night, but Tom jumped on board with the idea without hesitation.

Tom frowned. “You’re not going to stay home?” He asked, his voice sad and eyes worried. “Please?” Tom requested, squeezing y/n’s hand.

Y/n pursed her lips. “I have work, T,” she argued softly.

“I know,” Tom agreed. “And I’m sorry, I dragged you into this -".

Y/n shook her head, “no. This isn’t on you Tom. I’ve told you that”. She sighed, “but, that doesn’t mean I can just stay stuck at home all day every day until this...overzealous fan chills out”.

“Overzealous?!” Tom huffed. “Darling, she’s bloody crazy!” He exclaimed. “This isn’t some slightly obsessed fan, she’s insane and she wants to hurt you.”

Y/n bit her lip and nodded. He was right. The voicemail had truly scared her. And she knew Tom knew that. Even if he hadn’t already been protective before, he certainly would’ve become so upon seeing how much it freaked her out.

“Just for today?” Tom pleaded. “I’m already working on a more long-term solution,” he assured her.

Y/n sighed softly as she thought it over. She didn’t have a ton to do at work today, so perhaps it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “Okay, if it will make you happy, I’ll stay home today,” she accepted.

Tom grinned and pulled y/n in for a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he gushed. “I know it’s not ideal, but I’ll try to come home for lunch, and-" Tom rambled.

Y/n giggled. She rubbed Tom’s chest as she leaned back. “Handsome, you don’t need to do that,” she smiled. “Just focus on your scenes and rest between them, we both know you haven’t been doing that much. Hmm?”.

Tom nodded, he’d been spending most of his time between takes and scenes getting on his security about finding out who this crazy fan was and doing whatever was needed to stop them. “Okay, but,” he replied, smiling, “I’m still going to call during my lunch and check-up”.

Y/n hummed lovingly, stroking Tom’s cheeks tenderly. “You have a deal, sweetheart.”

“Okay, so, you’ll arm the security system after I leave?” Tom asked y/n.

Y/n nodded, “yes”.

“And, you have Jones’s number saved, right?” Tom wondered as he mentally made his way through his checklist. Jones was one of his security guards and Tom had requested that he be on call nearby in case something happened. Or if y/n simply felt scared that it could/would.

“Saved and set as a favorite for easy access,” y/n promised. She neared her boyfriend and set her hands on his shoulders. “Everything is in place honey.”

Tom took a shaky breath and nodded. He really didn’t want to leave her alone, but he had to go to set. He was nearly done with filming and then they’d be able to go wherever. Y/n had reminded him of that when he considered taking the day off. The sooner he was done, the sooner they could go back to Europe -for at least as long as it took until the fan was taken care of.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t anxious about y/n being home alone. But, at his security pointed out, the fan had given the address for y/n’s old apartment, her job, and has been seen on set before. This was the safest place for her. As far as they are aware, there was no reason to believe the fan has knowledge of this apartment nor that y/n and Tom even lived together.

“I’m just…” Tom sighed. He knew he was going overboard in his preparations. But he couldn’t help it, he needed to know y/n would be safe.

Y/n gave Tom a quick kiss. “Worried, sweet, adorable, I know,” she grinned. “But you’re also about to be late,” y/n giggled playfully. “So, go, get there safely, kick ass on your scenes, and we’ll talk at lunch?”

Tom smiled and nodded, holding y/n to his chest for another hug. “Alright love, I’ll call you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too,” y/n said. She pulled back from the hug and kissed Tom’s forehead. “Let me know when you get to set,” she added as Tom made his way to his car. Y/n waved goodbye before she closed the door.

Y/n quickly armed the security system. She sighed to herself before looking around as she tried to decide what to do on her unplanned day off. Y/n walked to the bedroom to change into pajamas and grab some large and comfortable blankets.

When y/n returned to the living room, she found Tom had texted her saying he’d made it to set. She smiled and sent a quick reply before settling herself on their couch. Y/n flicked the television on and scrolled through their digital movies until she landed on Uncharted. She smirked to herself and sent a photo of her movie choice to Tom before she pressed play and relaxed under her blankets.

“You okay?” Harry asked, squinting at his brother. “You seem tense and you keep saying the wrong lines,” he pointed out. Harry was not just Tom’s brother but also his personal assistant and therefore it was his job to see to whatever was bothering him. “What’s going on?”

Tom sighed and ran a hand down his face, wincing as he realized he realized he’d just messed up the makeup the crew put on him. “It’s just…” he mumbled, looking around the set before pulling his brother to the side. “You know that crazy fan?” He asked. When Harry nodded, Tom continued. “Well, they get y/n’s number and left her a threatening message”.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Is she okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I mean, she was when I left. And, Jones hasn’t reached out to say that’s changed… But, I just…. It’s hard to clear my mind and focus,” Tom admitted.

“I get that mate, but you can’t know what’s going on if you don’t ask,” Harry said. “So, instead of stressing for likely no reason, why don’t you text her between scenes and see what she’s up to?“ he suggested.

Tom smiled and hugged his brother. “That’s a great idea mate, thank you!” He held out his hand and waited for Harry to pass him his phone.

Harry chuckled and quickly took Tom’s phone from his pocket. “Here ya are,” he said with a playful eye roll.

“Oh,” Tom chuckled. He felt his cheeks flush as he looked at the last message from his girlfriend.

“Ewww, if that’s a sext, you need to get better at hiding your reaction,” Harry groaned.

Tom glared at Harry as he shook his head. “No!” He scolded. “Apparently she’s having a movie day…” Tom mumbled bashfully.

“Okay? And…?” Harry questioned.

Tom tilted his phone so Harry could see the text thread. His blush darkened as his brother laughed and shook his head at y/n's choice of movies for the day.

“You two are gross,” Harry teased. “Ready to try this scene again now?” He asked, trying to guide Tom back to set.

Tom smiled to himself. He quickly replied to y/n’s text and passed his phone back to Harry. “Yeah, I am now,” Tom nodded.

Y/n yawned as she rose from the floor. She’d made a blanket fort earlier to watch movies in. But now, her legs were numb and tingly from the position she’d been in. Y/n tiredly made her way to the kitchen for some snacks. While she hadn’t done much today, she was exhausted. It seemed doing nothing let her body realize how tired she’d been lately.

Y/n groaned lightly upon seeing that Tom had left a nearly empty milk carton in the fridge. She had just gotten groceries, not knowing they needed milk since the n carton was still in the fridge. Y/n made a mental note to get more milk tomorrow, or tonight after Tom got home from set. She poured the last of it in her cereal bowl before going to throw the carton away.

Only, as she went to place the carton in the garbage, y/n noticed it was full. She quickly calculated what day it was and realized it was garbage day. Y/n decided to go put on some slippers so she could take the garbage out.

Y/n returned to the kitchen and tied the trash bag closed. She smiled to herself knowing Tom wouldn’t have to deal with taking the bag out tonight when he got home and instead could relax. It was the least she could do since she knew he was worrying about her more than usual today.

Y/n disarmed the security system so that her opening the back door wouldn’t trip the alarm. That was the last thing Tom needed while trying to focus on his job. She was careful though to shut the door behind her and lock it so no one could enter while she was walking to the alley to dispose of the bag. Y/n figured it was overkill, but she knew Tom would be happier knowing she’d done it.

Y/n was sure to be quick with throwing the bag in the can outside. She smiled when she noticed their neighbors’ cans hadn’t been picked up yet; she hadn’t missed pickup. Y/n cautiously looked around before walking back to her apartment.

Y/n felt some anxiety as she unlocked her back door, feeling like someone could sneak up behind her. As a result, she quickly rushed inside and locked it again. Y/n let out a sigh and decided to refocus on her movie day, designating it as a seemingly needed distraction. She grabbed her bowl of sugary cereal with little milk and headed back to her blanket fort in the living room.

Y/n paused the movie, having thought she heard something in the kitchen. She peered into the kitchen doorway from her seat and didn’t see anything. Y/n wanted to go back to her movie, but her gut told her something wasn’t right.

Y/n elected it was safest to fully check on the sound she thought she heard. So, she grabbed her phone, pulling up the favorites section of her contacts as she anxiously made her way to the kitchen. She stopped halfway there, realizing she didn’t have anything to protect herself with. Unfortunately, her ideal choice of weapon would be found in the kitchen. Y/n settled for her keys, holding them in her other hand as she resumed her quest to find the source of the sound she’d heard.

A gasp escaped y/n’s mouth as she entered the kitchen. There was a pile of broken glass underneath the back door on the far side of the room. Y/n didn’t see anyone in the room but knew this wasn’t a good sign. She hadn’t been wrong about having heard a sound, nor about the need to check on it. And, considering the broken glass had come not too long after the voicemail incident, y/n was worried they were related.

Y/n didn’t want to take her eyes off the kitchen in case someone appeared, but she suspected she should call Jones. She blindly tried to pull up his number as she stared at the back door. Y/n cautiously walked towards the knife block, hoping to grab a better weapon than her keys. Except, before y/n could get to even the halfway point, someone’s hand reached in through the broken glass on the door and unlocked the handle.

Y/n looked around for an alternative weapon since she was too far from the knife block. But, she quickly ran out of time as the person had flung the door open and entered her apartment. Y/n’s eyes widened and she began to step back. She wanted to run but she didn’t want to aggravate the girl before her. Plus, the safest way to run would be to run outside, but the girl was blocking that door.

The intruder was wearing a homemade Tom Holland shirt, making it even more obvious she was the stalkerish fan. The girl’s hair and makeup was overly done up, as if she was going out on a date or to an event. She was glaring aggressively at y/n as she walked further into the kitchen.

Once y/n sensed she’d backed up enough to make it to the doorway to the living room, she turned and bolted from the kitchen. She scolded herself as she realized her blanket fort in the living room now provided a large obstacle, blocking her from easy access to the front door. Before y/n could decide if she could crash through the mess of blankets and furniture supporting them, she heard the fan’s loud footsteps running after her.

Y/n sharply turned the corner and started to the stairs. She looked down at her phone as she ran, clicking on Jones’ contact. Just as y/n’s finger went to press call, she felt a hand on her ankle. She screeched as she tugged her foot away and tried to stumble up the rest of the stairs.

Y/n kept running up the stairs as the fan angrily screamed her name. She once again tried to call Jones, only this time she tripped on one of Tom’s shoes that had been left on the staircase. In her attempt to not lose her balance and fall down the steps, y/n used her hand to push herself back up. Only, this caused her phone to slip from her hands and tumble down the stairs. Y/n fell to the ground as she turned to grab the device. Except, she wasn’t quick enough.

Y/n silently watched in terror as her lifeline bounced past the crazed fan on the stairs. She froze as she saw the glint of the knife the fan had in her hand. Y/n swallowed thickly and decided her best bet was to try and lock herself in the bathroom and scream; hoping the neighbors would hear and call the police. She quickly stood back up and turned around. “HELP!” Y/n shouted, hoping by chance a window was open.

“I just want to talk!” The fan replied, bouncing up the steps after y/n.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Y/n yelled back, finally mounting the stairs. She rushed towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. A painful scratch on the back of her right shoulder caused y/n to stop. Y/n knew instantly from the way there were four simultaneous scratches that the fan had used her acrylic nails to scrape at y/n.

Y/n hissed in pain and spun around to try and fight off the fan. She fortunately still had her keys in her fist. As such, she lunged forward and dug them against the fan’s face. Y/n used the fan’s shock to turn and run the rest of the way to the bathroom.

As y/n tried to shut the bathroom door, she was blocked by the fan’s foot. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” she shouted, trying to shove the girl’s foot out of the way. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!”

“JUST LET ME TALK!” The fan argued, pushing against the bathroom door.

“I DON’T WANT TO TALK!” Y/n groaned. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” she asked, slamming the door repeatedly against the fan’s leg as the girl banged on the other side of the bathroom door.

“YOU STOLE MY ONE TRUE LOVE!” the fan screamed, the knife stabbing the door.

Y/n flinched backward as the knife sliced into the thin wooden door separating her from the crazy fan. During y/n’s brief reaction, the fan shoved the door open. Y/n fell backward onto the ground. She shouted again in desperation, praying someone heard her.

The fan stood over y/n with a furious expression. “YOU. STOLE. TOM. FROM. ME.” She seethed, leaning closer to y/n as she was flat on her back against the bathroom floor.

Y/n lifted her arms over her head to shield her face. “GO AWAY!” she shouted, kicking at the fan. Y/n gasped as the fan grabbed ahold of y/n’s hair. She used her keys to scratch the fan’s arm of the hand she was holding y/n with.

“STOP FIGHTING ME!” The fan complained, tugging on y/n’s hair. She used her other hand to try and pry the keys from y/n’s hand.

Y/n stared at the fan in bewilderment. “YOU’RE FUCKING CRAZY!” She cried, continuing her kicking and scratching. Y/n faintly heard her phone ringing from the other room. She silently pleaded with the universe for it to be Tom checking on her. If it was, she knew he’d send security over if she didn’t answer.

The crazed fan continued to fight with y/n until y/n spat at her in an attempt to get the girl to back up enough for y/n to get off the floor. The fan glared and hissed at y/n. “THAT’S IT!” She shouted, grabbing the knife from where she’d set it on the bathroom counter; out of reach from y/n. She dropped to her knees and placed the blade against y/n’s throat.

Y/n gulped as terror shot though every fiber of her being. She could keep using her keys, especially now that the girl was close enough for y/n to jab them into her eyes. Only, the knife against her throat made y/n worry the fan wouldn’t hesitate to push the blade into her as a response to such an attempt.

“Drop it, or I’ll make you regret it,” The fan threatened. She smirked when y/n shakingly let go of the keys.

“Okay…” y/n mumbled, wincing as her neck grazed against the knife’s blade as she spoke. “Y-you wanted to t-talk?” She asked rhetorically. “W-we can talk,” y/n offered. Hopefully, she could keep the fan talking long enough for help to reach her.

“No!” The fan scoffed. “I don’t want to talk,” she snarked.

Y/n tried to lean back from the blade, the firm tile of the bathroom floor not allowing her much relief. “B-but, you said-,” y/n argued.

“That was before this!” The fan shouted. She raised her non dominant hand, letting go of y/n’s hair.

Y/n noticed the blood dripping from the fan’s arm. She looked back up at the fan with fearful eyes. “Then… wha-what do you want?” Y/n asked, trying to slide backwards on the tile so she could at least use the wash to sit herself up.

“STOP MOVING YOU STUPID BITCH!” The fan scolded. “I love that man, but I swear he’s an idiot, I don’t how you tricked him into thinking he loves you, but I’m going to help him see the truth.”

Y/n’s eyes widened as she froze. She didn’t know what else there was to do at this point. She’d tried to fight but was out armed. She tried to scream but no one heard. She tried to call security but her phone fell. The only thing left was to try and get the crazy fan to drop her guard slightly.

“I… I… I’m sorry… I…” y/n lied, trying to appear weak and like the fan had cracked her. “What can I d-d-do?” She pleaded with fake tears. “H-how can I h-help? Please, I’ll do anything,” y/n fibbed.

“You- you want to help me?” The fan questioned hesitantly.

Y/n nodded, wincing as the blade scratched her skin. “I.. I had my fun…” she mumbled, hating herself for even lying about it. “I… you’re clearly better for him..”.

“Really?” The fan smiled. “You admit I’m better for Tom?” She asked dreamily.

Bingo. Y/n nodded faintly again, not wanting to say it.

The fan seemed to pick up on y/n’s reasoning. “Say it,” The fan barked.

“W-what?” Y/n questioned.

“Say that I’m better for Tom, that he’d be happier with me,” The fan ordered.

Y/n swallowed, the knot on her throat hitting the blade of the knife still pressed against her. She felt nauseous and her eyes prickled with tears. Tom was the actor, not y/n. But, she didn’t have much of a choice.

“Y-you’re better for Tom,” y/n mumbled. She hoped her shaky voice and watery eyes came across as fake remorse and sorrow for the fan rather than the fear and guilt she felt. When the fan stared at y/n expectantly, y/n fought the desire to tremble as she stared back in terror. “H-he… To-Tom,” y/n corrected herself not wanting to further upset the girl by being vague, “Tom would be happier with you”.

The fan smirked with pride. She tilted her head mockingly at y/n. “I’m glad you finally see it,” The fan commented. “Now, we just need to work on what you’ll say when he gets here.”

“What? He’s-he’s not coming,” y/n stated fearfully. She hoped she was right. She wanted Tom to call security, but she didn’t want Tom to get himself caught up in this dangerous situation.

“Of course he’s coming. He thinks he loves you,” the fan sighed. “He’s wrong, of course.” The fan rolled her eyes. “But no worry, because once we show him that you don’t actually love him like he deserves, he’ll choose me, his true love,” she grinned.

Y/n tensed. “S-show him… That I-“ she mumbled.

“You’ll see. You’re going to tell him that you don’t love him,” The fan explained.

“Or…” y/n whispered, her voice cracking. She knew she’d likely lost her ruse, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to be forced to lie to Tom; especially about this.

“Or, I’ll remove you from the picture myself,” the fan warned. “Then he’ll finally be all mine,” She smiled.

Y/n willed herself not to cry, she had to figure out a way out of this. There was no doubt even if y/n didn’t make of it, the girl would kill Tom too once she saw Tom wasn’t going to fall in love with her the way she thought. Y/n refused to let that happen. She needed to get her and Tom out of this.

Tom ran his hand down his face as he tried dialing y/n’s number again. He’d tried twice already with no response. Granted, they were back to back, so if she was busy with something, there’d been little time to finish and answer the phone. But surely, by him calling a third time, y/n would get the seriousness behind his calls and drop whatever she’d been doing.

Tom felt his whole body go numb as his third call went to voicemail. He closed his eyes as his fear reached an all time high. He looked around to tell someone he had to leave but didn’t see Harry in the hall. Tom didn’t want to waste anymore time so he decided to just leave.

Tom ran to the set door and grabbed his jacket, yanking his keys out before dashing out the door. He threw open his car door and jumped in. He quickly dialed Jones’s phone as he sped out of the parking lot. Tom sighed when Jones didn’t answer, maybe he was already with y/n then.

Tom was only seconds from their street when Jones called him back. “Is y/n okay?! Is she with you?!” He asked after hitting accept. Tom felt a chill rush through him when Jones stated he had no idea what Tom was talking about.

Tom quickly took the corner, speeding even more as he drove closer to his apartment. “Just meet me at my house, NOW!” He shouted as he pulled into the driveway. Tom vaguely noticed Jones commenting that he and another officer were on their way.

When he threw open the front door and didn’t hear an alarm go off, Tom felt his tears rising even more. He clumsily rushed past the blanket fort y/n had made in the living room. “Y/N?! LOVE?!” Tom yelled, moving further into the apartment.

Tom glanced in the kitchen to see if the back door showed any signs of damage. Since the front door was still locked and closed, he hoped he was overreacting. Maybe y/n was just taking a nap.

Tom’s tears fell down his cheeks as he found the broken glass and open back door. “No, no, no, no, no,” he mumbled. He rushed back to the living room. “Please,” Tom whimpered.

Tom went to go up the stairs, stopping when something cracked under his foot. He slowly raised his leg and looked down. He winced as he noticed it was y/n’s phone. Tom lifted it up and saw she’d pulled up Jones’s contact. He felt his heart drop as he faintly heard a struggle upstairs.

Tom threw y/n’s phone down and bolted up the staircase. “Y/N!!” He screamed, taking the stairs three at a time. “PLEASE ANSWER ME!” He pleaded breathily as he reached the top. Tom froze as his head snapped towards the bathroom.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Tom belted, sprinting to the end of the hall. “HEY!” He yelled, going to pull on the girl standing over his girlfriend. Tom’s breath hitched as he saw the blade pressed against y/n’s throat.

Tom froze as he stared in fear. He could see the terror and distraught in y/n’s eyes as she was pinned to the ground at knifepoint. Tom breath was shaky as his hands were fisted at his side. He tried to shoot his girlfriend a remorseful look, uncertain if she could see it from her angle. And then, he turned his eyes towards the girl holding her hostage as his eyes lit with fury.

“Back. Away. From. Her. Now.” Tom seethed, his jaw tight as he stared down the crazy fan.

“Tom! Oh my gosh,” The fan gushed. “Hi! Sorry for the mess, Uhh,” she giggled, “not to worry, I’m sure y/n will help clean it up after”.

Tom squinted harshly at the girl. “After? After what?” He asked dreadfully. He tried to look around the girl to see how y/n was doing. His eyes widened upon seeing drops of blood on the white tile flooring. Tom glanced back at the fan, “please. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Take it!” He pleaded.

“Is it money?” Tom questioned, “you can have it. Call my brother and he’ll help get it all out from the bank for you”.

Y/n tried to speak, but her voice was muffled as the fan pressed the flat edge against her more forcefully in warning. She squirmed and debated whether she should try and fight the fan off again now that Tom was here.

“Y/n,” Tom whimpered. “Don’t, please,” he begged, “I’ve got this”. Tom looked back towards the fan with his hands held up. “Just call him, his name is in my phone-".

“Harry, duh. I know your brother’s name, silly,” the fan laughed. “I know all their names! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?!” She shook her head in disbelief.

Tom tried to resist looking confused as he slowly nodded. “Okay…” he mumbled, “so… then uhh,.. Yeah, call him and he’ll get you however much you want. It’s all yours. Just, let y/n go, please”.

“I don’t want your money,” the fan tsked.

“You.. you don’t?” Tom sighed in frustration. “Then wh-what do you want?” He asked hopelessly. “Merch? Harry can get that too. Ummm autographs? Tell me what to sign. Umm, do you want-“ Tom rambled, trying to find a solution.

The crazed fan pouted. “I don’t want anything from you babe,” she answered. “Relax, you don’t have to do anything Tommy bear.”

Tom’s breath wavered as he tried to keep his composure. “Then… then wh-why is my girlfriend on the-?” He stopped himself as the fan glared and turned to y/n, gripping the knife tighter. Tom realized his mistake; this fan claimed in her message that she thought she was his one true love.

“Ex,” the fan hissed, turning back to Tom. “Your ex-girlfriend,” she corrected.

Tom swallowed tensely. Even though the statement was false, it didn’t sit well with him. Even more concerning though was that he had no idea where the fan was going with all of this if she already decided y/n was his ex.

“Don’t worry sweetie,” The girl sighed with what sounded like sympathy. “You’re about to hear why that’s a good thing,” she said. “And I’ll be here to help you through it after.”

Tom opened his mouth to ask what exactly the girl meant when suddenly she was ordering y/n to sit up. He flinched forward instinctively when y/n struggled to get into a seated position. Tom only stopped himself when the fan pressed the knife closer to y/n’s skin, grazing it slightly. Ironically, he wanted to move towards y/n even more after that in order to get the knife away from her, but he knew any movement on his behalf could make things drastically worse in seconds; before he would have time to stop it.

Y/n rested her head against the wall of the bathroom. Her cheek brushed against the toilet paper holder installed beside her on the wall. She couldn’t get herself to look at Tom knowing what the fan was about to make her do. The fan had warned/instructed y/n on it prior to Tom’s arrival.

“Okay, speak,” The fan ordered. She moved infinitesimal to the side so Tom could see y/n clearly.

Y/n closed her eyes and shook her head. She no longer cared about the pain that came with such movement. Y/n felt her tears stream down her face as she tried not to shake. Her stomach was in knots and all she wanted to do was throw up.

“NOW!” The fan shouted, her anger rising at y/n’s lack of cooperation.

Tom flinched at the sudden outburst. He kept his eyes focused on his terrified girlfriend. He watched as her eyes opened and he nodded for her to comply with whatever the fan was saying to do. “Y-y/n, it’s okay, just say it,” Tom pleaded softly.

“See, Tom wants the truth,” the girl remarked. “Now,” she glared at y/n, “tell him”.

Y/n whimpered as she held eye contact with her boyfriend. She saw him silently begging her with his eyes to just do it. Y/n sniffled as she closed her eyes. “I… I… I can’t,” she resisted.

“Do it or I swear!” The girl screeched.

Tom saw the wild look in the girl’s eyes and his fear increased. “Y/n,” he whispered. “I.. I want to hear the truth,” Tom mumbled, playing along with whatever the fan was going for.

Y/n squeezed her eyes tighter and shook. She didn’t want to do this. “I… I don’t….” Y/n mumbled, stopping when the fan yelled for her to use full sentences. “I used you,” She lied.

The words tasted vile as y/n spoke her instructed words aloud. “I.. I don’t love you.” She cried, her resulting movement causing the edge of the blade to seep into her skin. “I-I-I never did. I never l-loved you,” y/n repeated as she’d been told to. She felt her body go limp in defeat after uttering the false but nonetheless hurtful words to Tom.

Tom knew what y/n was saying wasn’t true. But, he could see how badly it hurt her to just repeat them. Nonetheless, he knew he had to play along to get the crazy fan to let y/n go. Fortunately, Tom was already crying.

“O-oh,” Tom whispered with pretend shock. “I… I thought…” he sighed, stepping back in hopes the fan would follow him.

“It’s okay,” the fan soothed. “It’s okay Tommy bear, I’m here for you.” “You don’t need her, I can show you what real love is,” she promised.

Tom noticed the fan had moved closer to him, further from y/n. She was still between the two of them with the knife, but it was no longer at y/n’s throat. Tom wiped his eyes dramatically with a frown. “But… I just…. I can’t believe…” he murmured, taking another few steps down the hall.

The fan sighed. “I know, it’s cruel,” she agreed, “but, aren’t you glad to find out before it was too late?”

Tom shrugged as he yet again moved back some, the fan unconsciously following him. He tried to shoot y/n a sign to be ready to run when the girl eventually exited the bathroom, but y/n wasn’t looking at him. He sighed and quickly improvised. “It’s just…y/n,” Tom whimpered, the fan pouting as he seemingly cried over y/n’s ‘declaration’.

Y/n looked up at hearing Tom say her name. She noticed the way he immediately made eye contact with her and then shifted his gaze to the floor. Y/n looked around and realized the crazy chick and Tom had stepped further into the hall. She was no longer at knifepoint.

Y/n quietly slid her hand toward the keys she’d abandoned earlier. She mentally thanked the girl for being stupid enough to not kick them away. Once she had the keys in reach, y/n took a deep breath as she thought of a game plan. She had to be careful, she didn’t want Tom getting stuck in the crossfire or for the fan to flip out on him in retaliation.

Y/n glanced back up at Tom as she heard him still mumbling about his shock over her statement. In doing so, she noticed a shadow in the staircase. Something she assumed the fan hadn’t seen due to staring crazily at Tom. Y/n took one last deep breath before she silently moved for the keys.

Y/n held the keys in her hands and tried to give Tom a warning glance. She then got onto her knees and leaned forward until she dug the keys into the girl’s leg. Y/n nearly vomited at the force she had to use to puncture the girl’s leg more than just a scratch. But, it was enough for her to get the girl to spin away from Tom.

As the fan turned on y/n, Tom rushed forward to try and grab the knife.

Y/n threw herself back to the ground as she prepared for the knife to contact her.

Before Tom could reach the crazy girl, he heard a buzzing sound and the girl fell to her knees, the knife hitting the ground beside y/n. He snapped his head behind him and saw his security guards standing there, one of whom had tased the fan.

Tom tried to run to y/n but one of the guards stopped him. The one with the taser sidestepped him, likely going to grab the crazy girl. But Tom pushed past both of them and ran to the bathroom. He jumped over the spasming fan in the doorway and fell to his knees beside y/n.

Tom sighed as he saw Y/n was still hunched over, waiting for the impact. “I-It’s just m-me, love,” he whispered tenderly before cautiously placing a hand on her back. When she flinched, he pulled his hand back. But, as y/n turned to look up at him with tears in her eyes, he pulled her to his chest.

“Shhhhh I’ve got you,” Tom cooed, rocking y/n lightly. “You’re safe.” “I’m so sorry”. He repeated these words and similar sentiments as they both cried and held onto each other. Tom faintly heard his security taking the girl away, but he didn’t look away from y/n.

“T-t-To-T-To-“ y/n mumbled, tears still flowing down her face.

“Shhh, you don’t have to talk,” Tom assured her, delicately wiping her cheeks. “I’m here, it’s okay now.”

Y/n shook her head as another sob left her body. “I-I… I didn’t mean it!” She cried. “I swear, T-Tom. I didn’t mean any of what s-she-“.

Tom frowned and pulled y/n back to his chest. He rested his lips on the top of her head as he sighed. “I know darling, I know,” he told her. “I know she made you say it,” Tom acknowledged.

Y/n fisted Tom’s shirt as she cried into his chest. “I … I didn’t… I didn’t want to say it…” she cried. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I didn’t mean it.” Y/n repeated.

Tom listened respectfully as y/n kept repeating herself. He pressed loving kisses to her scalp as he waited for her to calm down. After a few minutes, Tom began replying with a quiet, “I know” each time y/n promised she hadn’t meant what she said.

Tom didn’t know how long this continued. To him it felt like an eternity having to hear y/n’s choked sobs and needless apologies. But, he noticed she suddenly went quiet. Tom cautiously cupped y/n’s face and tilted it so he could see her eyes.

“I love you,” y/n promised. She gazed up into Tom’s eyes and sniffled. “I love you.”

Tom smiled softly at y/n before giving her a quick kiss. “I love you too,” he whispered.

Y/n took Tom’s face in her hands and needily pulled him in for a longer kiss. She closed her eyes as she sunk her fingers into his hair and held him close. Y/n felt a few more tears leave her eyes as she savored the taste of Tom’s lips.

“Are you hurt?” Tom asked when they pulled back, resting his forehead on y/n’s.

“I.. I don’t think so,” y/n mumbled.

“I...-there was… is…blood on the floor,” Tom argued worryingly.

Y/n pulled back and looked over at the spots Tom was referencing. “Oh, I.. I think that’s hers,” she admitted. “I kinda tore up her arm before you got here,” y/n said, eyeing her keys.

Tom hummed and smiled faintly. “I’m so p-proud of you,” he told y/n. He saw y/n’s disagreement and shook his head. “You kept yourself alive until help could come,” Tom argued. “I s-saw you tried to call Jones, you ran, you fought back, you did what you needed to do to survive.”

Y/n sniffled. “I didn’t want to say that… I shouldn’t have-“.

Tom sighed. “I know you didn’t, and I’m sorry you had to. But that’s just it, you had to,” He pointed out. “I know you didn’t mean it. I’m not hurt or mad. I’m thankful you did what you needed to do. I’m thankful you were so strong,” Tom whimpered lightly.

Y/n flattened her lips and nodded. “I’m just glad you’re here. Thank you for c-coming for me.”

“Always. Now, are you sure-” Tom began, stopping suddenly. He abruptly stood up and carefully pulled y/n up with him. “Your neck,” he muttered, gently tilting her chin up for a better view.

“Shit,” Tom hissed, upset he’d momentarily forgotten about seeing the knife slice y/n’s neck. He eyed the thin line with a deep frown. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

Y/n huffed. “Tom, please, I just… I just wanna lay down and sleep,” she cried.

Tom sucked in his lips and nodded in understanding. “Okay. You will,” he promised. “Just after you get that cut looked at,” Tom declared. “Don’t worry, I’m going with you,” he said upon seeing the fear return to y/n’s eyes.

“You didn’t tell me she clawed your back,” Tom sighed, squeezing y/n’s hand as the doctor gave y/n a tetanus booster shot.

“I forgot,” y/n laughed humorously. She sighed, “doesn’t really hurt too much though”.

Tom nodded. “And your throat?” He questioned, eyeing the bandage covering her neck.

“That one hurts like a bitch,” y/n admitted with a quiet laugh. “But, I’ll be fine,” She promised. “But…Tom…. I….” y/n trailed off.

“You what, love?” Tom inquired.

“I don’t really… umm..” y/n sighed and cleared her throat. She immediately winced at the pain that shot through her as a result. Y/n huffed and looked back at Tom, who was watching her with a sorrowful look. “I don’t want to go home… I… I know she’s gone… but…”

Tom nodded rapidly, squeezing y/n’s hand again. “We’re not going back there,” He promised. “W-when the police are umm,… done with their stuff… I’ll have Harry hire some people to help move our stuff out,” Tom stated.

Y/n smiled appreciatively at how Tom had already considered her not wanting to go back there after tonight. “But… Where are we going to stay? You are staying with me still, right?” She asked nervously.

“Of course!” Tom promised. “For now, I can take time off and we can go back to London. Or, we’ll get a hotel or new apartment until the show wraps. Whatever you want darling,” he comforted.

“You need to finish-“ y/n began. She noticed Tom was about to argue with her so she smiled and shook her head. “I want you to finish. But I won’t argue to you taking a few days off right now,” she admitted bashfully.

Tom sighed with relief, not wanting to go back to work just yet. More so, not wanting to be away from y/n again just yet. “Okay, so new place it is, we’ll get a hotel for tonight,” he decided. “Then, figure it out from there,” Tom said softly.

Y/n nodded and smiled lightly at Tom. “Can we go now?” She asked.

Tom chuckled quietly. “Once you’re cleared, darling,” he said, looking at the doctor.

“You’re all patched up, let me just get the discharge paperwork for you to sign and the at-home instructions to take care of your wounds,” the doctor offered with a sympathetic smile. “Then you’re free to go,” he told the couple as he left the room.

Y/n sighed and squeezed Tom’s hand. She was beyond ready to get out of the hospital. To be somewhere comfortable and safe. With Tom.

“In addition to the guards outside,” Tom said, nodding his head towards the door to y/n’s emergency room where a few of his security were. “I tasked Harry with booking the safest hotel he can find. I’m also going to have guards on each entrance to the hotel, and one outside watching our room if we have a patio, and a couple in the hallway by our door, they’ve been told they’ll be working around the clock, and-“ he rambled.

“Tom, I appreciate all of that,” y/n confessed. “But… She’s been arrested. I don’t think we need that many…” she argued.

Tom nodded. “You’re probably right. But… I know you keep saying it’s not my fault….” He sighed. “But, I can’t help it… please just let me do this for you, until things settle down?”

Y/n smiled warmly and nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

“Tom, you can sleep now, we’re safe,” y/n promised, snuggling into his side as he held her.

“I know,” Tom whispered. “I just want to stay awake and just hold you for a bit,” he confessed. “But, please, rest darling, you’ve had a terribly long day,” Tom pleaded, kissing y/n’s forehead.

Y/n hummed quietly as she breathed in Tom’s cologne. “I love you,” she whispered, melting into his embrace.

“I love you too,” Tom replied, smiling down at y/n. “Thank you for being such a fighter today,” he added, tenderly running his thumb over the space between her brows to soothe her. Tom grinned to himself as he watched y/n quickly drift off to sleep. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if things had gone differently today, but he was glad he didn’t have to find out.

Tom Holland Navigation

Peter Parker / Spider-Man

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f10werfae · 1 year

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Titty Comfort

pairing: Frat!Tom Holland x Girlfriend!Reader

summary: When Tom can’t fall asleep, he turns to his girlfriend’s breasts for a lot of comfort (Breast play) (lowkey subby tom?)

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated/ Disclaimer 18+

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“C’mere love, need you closer” Tom whined, his arms wrapped around the woman in his arms, his semi-hardened cock resting against her ass cheeks. “How much closer do you need baby? we’re already spooning naked” Y/n giggled shuffling up against his cock, his hands situated on her warm tits, squeezing and kneading them every so often; coaxing small whines and whimpers from her lips which were currently swollen due to their sleepy, sloppy make out session.

Tom only whined in response, tugging on her perked up and hardened nipples, nuzzling his face into her neck, kissing and licking at the coconut scented flesh. This whole relationship started when Tom had walked into his bedroom during one of their crazy frat parties, to see a sleepy Y/n nuzzling and cuddling herself into his spider-man bedsheets. Granted he didn’t know the girl but he had a sudden urge to protect her, knowing damn well that he would now protect his sacred bedroom with his life due to the sleeping angel right in his bed.

“Oh- oh shit- you must own this room huh?” Y/n shot up, her eyes glazed and lazy, still holding Tom’s pillow in between her arms to hug it dearly. “I- uh got a bit tired and I was told I could take a room by David, who is currently busy eating my friend’s face off” She chuckled explaining why she was suddenly in his bed, of course David the head frat brother would say something like that, inconsiderate arsehole. “O-oh no sure it’s okay, I guess, just a bit shocked love. You can stay” He laughed walking closer, “We can share the bed if you want?” She smiled gleaming up at him, her arms inviting as she opened up the blankets showing a space just for him, who the fuck was this girl?

Well Tom soon found out the day after when he woke up to a (colour) headed girl on his chest, her body still clad in her dress, her legs intertwined with his as she tried to hug herself further into his warm wide chest. His own arms tugged around her too. Her name was Y/n L/n, she was taking a completely different major from him, which explained why he had never seen her before. She was outgoing, confident and not afraid to get things her way. Had he really just slept with (literally) some girl who he found already snoozing in his bed? Yes, yes he did and he wasn’t going to regret it one bit.

Now two months later, the once infamous frat boy on campus had been tied down to the one and only Y/n L/n; whenever they are on campus their hands are permanently intertwined, his head seen to be dipping down and whispering filthy and sweet things in her ears to make her laugh bashfully and hit his chest. With some people even commenting that he had heard him say that he “couldn’t wait to take her ass tonight”

Any chance he’d get he would walk her to her classes, choosing to hold her books and even like right now, missing out on his own frat activities to instead sleepover at her cozy little dorm room. Now decorated with a multitude of their polaroids together on her wall, some being a little inappropriate considering the nudity, but who else was going to see them?

“You keep tossin’ n’ turnin’ honey, are you feeling alright?” She frowned turning around in his arms, his hands slipping to her waist, her chest flushed against his as he felt her hardened nipples against his skin; Jesus how did he bag someone as gorgeous as her? His lips raining kisses all over her face, feeling her breath quicken and shake each time he got closer to her sweet spot, which already had hickies littering the length of it. “Just feeling a bit restless baby, nothin’ for you to worry about, pretty” He smiled finally kissing her nose, watching it wrinkle adorably in response before she leant in and pressed a featherlight kiss to his pink lips, not one full of lust but one full of adoration and passion for the man right in front of her. The man who showed her what love was, and how to love in such a short amount of time.

“But it is for me to worry about, I want you soft and snuggly with me, sleepy and hazy whike being undeniably horny” She laughed nudging his nose with hers, his lips pouting out to kiss hers lightly again, his hands groping her breasts tightly in his palm; she knew what he wanted, no, needed. Whenever Tom found himself needing comfort or some sensual loving, he turned to his lover’s breasts, suddenly finding them the most alluring thing in the world.

“Can I uh- ya know, play with them a little?” He whispered just staring at them blatantly, smiling childishly when Y/n replied, “Of course you can baby, they’re all yours babyboy” She giggled kissing the corner of his lips, noticing how his eyes were just fully trained on her tits more than anything else. Shifting herself up a little, he started moving her warm fleshy tits in circular motions, his lips greedily licking and sucking on the flesh surrounding her areola and nipples. Y/n’s fingers raked though his brown curls gently, planting small kisses to his hairline, her lips pulled into a small smile; Tom sat with his eyes closed fully enjoying sucking and pulling at her tits.

His tongue licking a stripe up the underside of her boob until he reached her nipple, wrapping his mouth around it like a suction, suckling on it affectionately; his eyes closed calmly. “You taste so good baby angel” He whispered kissing each of her nipples lovingly, letting his lips collect spit before dribbling it onto her hardened buds, lubing them up with his tongues flicking at them softly. “Thank you honey bun, even used some of that new body wash ya got me for no reason” She moaned out half asleep, Tom’s suckling had calmed her to a point of sleep, her eyes threatening to close any second now. The sound of Tom’s hums and his tongue flicking, giving a weird sense of a comforting atmosphere.

“Well it was in your wishlist and you told me your wishlist was empty” Tom hummed annoyed, shoving his face between her breasts, kissing the valley of her tits; knowing damn well he made it his responsibility to make sure everything in her basket was bought on a weekly basis. “Your tits are beautiful Y/n, not in a sexual way, but the fact they’re part of you just makes them so sexy”

He spent the next 15-20 minutes just loving and kissing on her breasts, her other hand softly pumping his limp cock, not with the intention of getting his hard but with the intention of showing him the same type of affection he was showing her. Undivided unconditional attention.

“hmm” Y/n hummed turning her head to the side, her hands dropped to rubbing his back soothingly, her nails raking up and down slowly. “You sleepy love? Want me to put the girls away?” He questioned pulling away from her tits with a pop, looking up at her with a crazy type of love, a love they both knew would never burn out. “No no keep going hun, feels good n’ warm” She yawned letting her eyes close for the final time that night, her hands resting on his back as he continued his own adventure. His lips licking, kissing and sucking on her tits until he himself, fell asleep undoubtably with her tit in his mouth; like a lovesick idiot.

———

PSA: Sorry this was short but I found it so cute and lovey!! Just a bit of comfort for those who are going through finals/any tough situations

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

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@esposadomd @elenavampire21 @stuckysgirl27 @cookielovesbook-akie @theekyliepage @acornacre @fdl305 @alexxavicry @alina02 @aerangi @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @stormcloudss @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @vrittivsanghavi @gloriouspurpose01 @marvelloki23 @madebylilly @noonenuts

Hope you all enjoy the fic!

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x female reader #frat!tom holland #frat!tom #tom holland rpf #rpf #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x girlfriend!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot

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ruewrote · 1 year

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𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑦.

PAIRING: peter parker x fem!reader WARNINGS: strong language GENRE: idk SONG INSPIRATION: talking body by tove lo WORD COUNT: 738

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you and peter had been laying in his bed for the most part of being at his house.

rewatching star wars, him telling you the most interesting parts, but as much as you were listening, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that your face was pressed against his pecs.

occasionally glancing up as he speaks down towards you, trying to keep a good poker face, but were most definitely freaking out on the inside.

pete sat up a little bit which made you pull away a little bit making you feel a bit disappointed.

“y/n! you there dude?” he chuckled whilst waving his hand in your face. snapping you back into reality as if you weren’t just fantasying about your best friend’s washboard abs. no, of course not.

“yeah-yeah i’m totally fine!” your words coming out rushed and stuttered as you settled back onto his chest and resumed the episode.

your love for your best friend’s abs were becoming a problem.

no like seriously!

last week you guys had gym together, you had been holding his feet down as he he did sit ups whilst talking to each other, but you kept spacing out since his abs were poking through his shirt each time he sat up.

trying to look anywhere but him, your eyes locked onto another pair who had caught you in the act. ned. he just smirked at you and then looked back over to his partner and carried on working out.

you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment waiting for the class to be over and hoped that your other best friend wouldn’t open his mouth.

it had been about two weeks since the absolutely soul-destroying moment happened to you in the gym, ned hadn’t said anything about it to peter, but that didn’t stop him from teasing you about it.

“dude, you have a bad staring problem.” ned laughed at you as you kicked his shin before you shoved your face in your hands as you leant your elbows on the cafeteria table, shaking your head. knowing he would never let you live this down.

“i seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, i had one thought about him and now they won’t stop coming, especially about his abs, like what’s wrong with me?” you fake cried and he just laughed at you.

“wait i have an idea.” ned had called peter over after he had gotten his food, making his way over to you two.

“what are you doing?” you whispered yelled over to him before putting on your best fake smile acting normal.

peter was now standing behind you - raising his eyebrow in confusion.

“can you flex really quick for me?” kind of used to ned geeking out over the fact that he was spiderman didn’t really surprise that he would ask that, sliding his tray onto the table, his hands slowly rolling his sleeves before doing so.

that’s when he did it, this had you floored. the vein in his bicep pulsing, your eyes skimmed over to his forearms which were now even thicker now that the muscles were tensed.

not to mention his abs were blatantly pressed against his white under shirt right in your face, peter had now brought his arms down, sitting beside you and started eating without question. you turned back around to the table before picking at the food on your own plate.

the guys spoke to each other back and forth about some school project that they were working on together. you were quiet trying to process what had just happened, the brunette turned towards you, it was odd for you to be so quiet.

cursing your shortness. your face was always pressed into his torso as you guys shared a hug. that’s when you had acknowledged it every time he’d wrap you up in his arms.

you’d had enough of his oblivious teasing and were going to do something about it, so as he was about to leave you...

“hey pete, can you wait a second i need to see something.” he of course had no problem with agreeing.

that’s when you had grasped the hem of his shirt and raised it, as you expected you were met with rock hard abs, running your hand over them, giving him an approved ‘hm’ and pulling it back down again and sent his confused self home, wondering what the fuck just happened.

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shellshocklove · 1 year

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snow crush | tom holland

pairing: tom holland x female!reader

summary: for christmas this year, you and tom had decided to only give each other small presents. but tom had other plans for your christmas present.

warnings: lots of fluff, established relationship, smut 18+ (minors dni!), fingering, praise kink, light degradation, a little voyeurism?

word count: 6.3k

a/n: i’m sorry this is probably the most self-indulgent thing i’ve written. still, i hope you guys like it <3 (also! i do not condone my romanticizing of cold weather in this. i still don’t like it, but i also love it a little bit) i would also like to say a huge thank you to kat (@luciwritesstuff) for beta reading this a little for me! ily <333 feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! happy reading <3 (i’m still not a writer)

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“Merry Christmas, Tom” your leg brushed against his as you handed him his gift.

“Thank you my love.”

The soft present was wrapped in shiny paper covered by hundreds of tiny green mistletoes. Finishing it all off, you’d tied a big red ribbon around it where the tag, with your boyfriend’s name, was scribbled in your chicken-scratch cursive. It was a beanie. One you’d knitted him yourself.

Since you and Tom had only been dating for a little under a year, you’d both decided, a few months ago, that you wouldn’t give each other big and extravagant presents for Christmas this year. You’d been racking your brain for weeks on what to get him before you’d come across an old GQ magazine in his office one day, one where he’d been gracing the front page. Flicking through the pages you’d stopped at a picture of him wearing a beanie, and thus an idea had formed in your head. It was a small gift, nothing extravagant as promised, but knitting it yourself would make it special. You quickly found a pattern online, before you hurried to the store to buy the perfect yarn and supplies. Later that same day you were placed in front of your TV, a bad reality show rolling in the background as you knitted every stitch with love. Now you were hoping he’d like it.

“I want you to open yours now!” he said as he handed you a sleek black box adorning a white ribbon.

“What why? I thought we were waiting until Christmas?” you asked.

This Christmas would be your first Christmas as a couple, but sadly you wouldn’t be able to spend it together. This gift exchange between the two of you would be the last time you’d spent together until after the new year. Later, you were off to catch a train, travelling home to see your family for the holidays. And he was doing the same.

“We were but… I want you to open mine now,” he insisted.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Tom! Is this not a PG present? Did you get me lingerie or something?” you giggled.

Your accusation earned you a small chuckle before he said, “No– but now that you’ve brought it up– I wish I did” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. This earned him a chuckle.

“Please love, would you just open it now?”.

With a playful sigh you did as he asked. You pulled on the ribbon before you lifted the lid of the black box. You raised your eyebrows at him, shooting him a confused expression as you lifted the piece of paper that laid neatly folded in the box.

“Go on”, he said as you unfolded the paper.

The paper consisted of pictures of snowy mountains, a cosy cabin and skis. He’d cut them out and glued them all together in a makeshift collage. Under his “collage” he’d written:

To my love, Cabin sex for New Year’s?

Looking up from your present, you were even more confused.

“Since we won’t be spending Christmas together this year, I rented us a cabin so we could spend New Year’s together instead,” he grinned, “it’s at the top of a mountain and there’s a ski resort– and even a hot tub!”.

“Toooom! Are you serious?” your heart grew in size at his generosity.

He only nodded, “I’ve taken care of everything and we’re staying for a week– we’re leaving on Boxing Day!”.

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Shifting closer to him on the sofa, you cupped his cheek and planted a grateful kiss on his lips.

“Thank you, Tom! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you kissed him again, “I would love to have cabin sex for New Year’s with you!”. Sealing your promise, you planted another grateful kiss on his lips.

Pulling away, your brows furrowed. “What?” the tone in Tom’s voice suddenly got serious, “What is it?”.

“It’s nothing…” you said unconvincingly.

He gave you an unimpressed look, urging you to say what was on your mind.

“It’s just that… now my present is gonna look so shitty compared to yours!”

“What? Nooo!” he protested, turning his attention to the forgotten gift in his lap. Ripping off the paper, the marine blue beanie revealed itself to him. Picking it up he studied it, running his fingers along the ribbed yarn.

“Love–” he started.

“I’m sorry it’s nothing special or anything– but I didn’t know what to get you… so I knitted you a beanie.” you said shyly.

“You knitted me a beanie?” he asked, sounding like you’d just gifted him a rare and expensive diamond.

“Yeah–“ you nodded before he cut you off with a kiss.

“Darling, I love it!”. Then he put it on. Under the ribbed hem, his curls were sticking out, sweetening his appearance. But it didn’t matter. To you he looked just as hot as he’d done in the photos you’d seen of him in GQ.

“How do I look?” he asked you, turning his body to face you.

“It suits you!” you said, “I think I chose the right colour.”

“It’s super warm and comfortable too! I can wear it on our trip”, he said enthusiastically, making you chuckle. A big smile blossomed on his face. His eyes crinkled as he pulled you closer and into his lap.

“Yes! I guess you can!” you giggled as you brought your hands up around his neck.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a bad gift after all?” you questioned, a finger toying and twisting around a stray curl at the back of his neck.

“No, it was the perfect gift” he reassured you, “Thank you, my love!” he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a soft and loving kiss.

“Oh my god!! It’s freezing in here!” you exclaimed as you stepped inside the living room of your rented log cabin.

It was bigger than it had looked like from the outside. The main room of the cabin was the living room with an open kitchen, and the large windows in the west-facing corner revealed the most amazing view of a snowy mountain landscape. Below you, down in the valley, a river curved its way like a snake through grass, dividing the small village in two. Up here in the mountains, the cabins were scattered along a mountain road. There was enough space between each cabin, making them still feel private and secluded, but also close enough making them feel like they belonged together. Outside on the veranda a hot tub was placed in the corner overlooking the valley and mountains.

Inside, the ceilings were tall. The log walls gave the cabin a rustic and cosy feel – like it was taken straight out of all the Christmas movies you’d watched during the last month. The big fireplace was the centrepiece of the room and a sight for sore eyes with how cold you were feeling right now. Rubbing your hands together, failing to warm them up, you made your way over to the fireplace. In the hall you heard a ruckus as Tom carried your bags and groceries inside. The fireplace was already made and the only thing you had to do was reach for the matches, and let the flame catch on the scrunched-up newspaper.

Even though your flight had been easy, the drive to the cabin had been a long one. With the sun setting so early this time of year, the sky had been bathed in blue light by the time you two drove away from the airport in your rented car. The drive had been relatively easy. Tom was a good driver, and the weight of his hand on your thigh soothed you as you watched snow covered pine trees passing you by.

You couldn’t help but think about how grateful you were for Tom’s gift. You’d always loved winter and the snow. There was just something about the smell of the crisp air when the thermometer dipped below freezing. You loved how your cheeks would almost go numb, and how your eyebrows and eyelashes would get coated in a thin layer of frost. And you loved the feeling of relief when you finally stepped into the warmth of a cabin, after being outside the whole day in the cold.

It would be a lie to say that this was your first time in a cabin like this, situated in a scenery like this. No, you were no stranger to trips like these. Growing up, the money other families would spend on an all-inclusive charter flight to Spain, or Italy, or Greece, your family would save and spend on skiing trips during winter break. As a child you’d loved the thrill and the spike of adrenaline you’d get as you’d raced downhill on your skis. The well-deserved hot chocolate at the end of a full day of skiing, had also been a highlight for you as a child. And later, as you’d gotten older, the hot chocolate had been replaced by a beer and Après-ski. As far as you were concerned – Tom had gotten you the perfect gift.

You had missed him over Christmas, and you had missed him in general. The last few months he’d been working a lot, meaning a facetime call at the end of the day had been the only way you’d been able to see him lately. Spending a whole week together was a luxury you hadn’t been accustomed to – and you were planning on taking advantage of every moment you got to spend together.

“I found these hot water bottles in the cupboard– do you want one now or should I just put them in our bed?”.

Looking up from the flames dancing before you, you shifted your gaze to Tom where he’d appeared in the doorway, holding up a hot water bottle in each hand.

“Now, maybe?” you answered, “Once I get the fire going, I can get started on dinner?”

It wasn’t anything fancy. A frozen pizza you’d bought at the supermarket down in the village before you’d made your way up the winding mountain road. But after such a long day of travelling, heating up a frozen pizza was about all the energy you had left in your body for cooking.

Seated on the sofa in front of the fireplace, with a hot water bottle resting on each of your tighs, and a shared thick wool blanket draped over both your bodies, you ate in peace. It was still cold in the cabin, but the fire burned hot, and the pizza warmed your tummies.

Content and full you snuggled closer to Tom, trying to chase more of his warmth. The warmth coming from the hot water bottle in your lap, and your shared blanket, not enough for you.

“Are you still cold, my love?” he asked you as he slipped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body.

Nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck you nodded as you let out a quiet, “Yeah”.

“Even your nose is cold” he chuckled as he brought a hand down to cup your face, making you lock eyes with him. His thumb ran softly over your cheeks, soothing you and warming you at the same time.

“Maybe we need to think of other ways to get you all warmed up, huh?” he asked as a cheeky grin grew on his face.

Looking up at him with moony eyes you gave him a small nod, “Yes– I think so.”

“Yeah?” his grin grew even wider as he leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on your lips, teasing you. He pulled away too fast for your liking, your face following his as you let out a quiet whine.

“Oh?” he teased, making you let out another whine, “What’s the matter baby?”.

You didn’t answer him, instead you leaned your face closer to his, chasing his lips for another kiss. One that he granted you. As the kiss grew deeper, your hand found a home resting on his shoulder. A sneaky hand found your waist, rubbing teasing circles into your skin over your sweater and the layers underneath. Your hot water bottle was abandoned as he started pushing your back down against the cushions of the sofa. Over you, two strong arms held him up. You parted your legs for him, opening them for him to slot between. Hovering over you, he leaned down, brushing his lips over yours.

“I think I may know of a way to get you all warmed up” he mumbled against your lips.

Your stomach hurt with laughter as you watched Tom fall on his ass for maybe the hundredth time today.

“Stop laughing!” he whined, “and help me”.

His whining made you laugh even more, but you made your way a few metres up the hill to where he’d fallen. The tracks your skis left in the densely packed snow looked like the fishbone of a whale. Ripping off the ski pole on your right hand, you reached out your hand. Around you other downhill skiers and snowboarders were racing by at a fast pace.

“I thought you said you were good at snowboarding” you teased. Your comment earned you a frown in return from Tom.

He grabbed your hand, but instead of pulling himself up, he pulled on your arm. With a hard jerk you were falling, your skis giving out from under you, crashing right into his chest. You managed to catch your fall a little with, both your hands on either side of his body, steadying yourself. But with your skis giving out from under you, you fell with a harder force than anticipated, slamming your helmet into his with a loud clank!

“Ouch”,Tom cried.

“Ouch!” you whined.

You tried to sit up, but with how steep the slope was, your skis only started sliding down the slope, making you fall right back down against his chest. Tom was laughing hard under you. Your clumsy attempt to stand, making him giggle even harder.

“Stop laughing” you tried to scold, but one look at his laughing face made your mouth quirk at the corners, and soon you were laughing too.

“I am good at snowboarding,” he defended, “or I was like five years ago” he chuckled.

“Tom, I can’t believe you almost talked me into going straight to the black slope when you can’t even stand for more than ten seconds! You would’ve broken every bone in your body, I reckon, had we done the black slope!”.

“And then you would’ve had to call for a helicopter to come pick me up. Spend months in the hospital with me, nursing me back to health, fetching things for me while I’m limping around… like a shell of the man I used to be” he teased.

You gave him a stern look, “Please don’t put that into the world… you keep manifesting your life– I don’t want you to manifest that.”

“How about I manifest me and you down at the café by the ski lift, drinking hot chocolates instead?” he said with a raised brow.

Giggling you nodded your head, “Sounds like a much better use of your manifestation powers”.

Pecking your lips, he sealed the deal on your new plans. Then he helped you stand, making sure your skis were steadily planted on the snow-covered ground. You reached out your hand again, helping him stand horizontally on the slope to make sure he wasn’t sliding away before was steady on his feet. Then you two slowly made your way down the slope.

In the steeper parts of the slope (he’d convinced you he was more than capable of trying the red slope), you skied behind him slowly, carving big swings as you watched him closely – ready to step in and help him if he fell again.

Safely back down at the bottom of the slope you crossed your right leg behind your left, pushing down on your ski bindings. You did the same with your other foot, while Tom loosened his own bindings.

“Ready, love?” he asked you after he’d watched you gather your skis and ski poles.

“Yes!” you said brightly, sending him a warm smile.

“Want me to carry those for you?” he asked you, reaching his left arm out towards your skis. Under his right arm he was carrying his snowboard.

“No, it’s okay Tom!” you started. His mouth formed into a pout at your rejection, making you quickly add: “You can carry this instead”. You slotted your gloved hand in his, making his features soften.

Hand in hand you made your way over to the café as you listened to Tom excitingly babble on about how he’d made it down the whole piste without falling. You always thought he looked so extra cute when he got all excited like this. His eyes sparkled like the crystals in the snow. The cold had made his cheeks turn rosy, and the brown curls, sticking out from under his helmet and beanie, had turned white with frost. You were sure you were looking at him with eyes big as moons.

“Here you go, my love!” Tom sang as he sat down your hot chocolates on the table. It was a generous cup, the top overflowing with whipped cream and tiny marshmallows. While he got you two your drinks, you’d found a table by the window looking out over the ski lift.

“Thank you, my love!” you parroted.

“I’ll be right back” he said as he hurried off towards the counter again. Taking a sip of your hot chocolate, your gaze shifted out the window while you waited. You watched the people standing in the queue for the lift and chuckled to yourself as you watched a few people struggle to sit down correctly.

The sound of a plate sliding across the table made you turn your head again, watching Tom slide into the chair opposite you. When he looked up at you after shuffling out of his jacket, he let out a short chuckle.

“What?” you questioned.

“You got a little…” he leaned forward, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, “There you go” he said with a swipe of his finger over the tip of your nose. When he leaned back in his chair again, you didn’t miss the way he licked the cream from his finger.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed as you finally looked down at the plate he’d sat down before you. It was the biggest cinnamon bun you’d ever seen in your life. It covered the whole plate.

“Yeah, I know!” he chuckled, “They just looked so good I had to get us one”.

“I think it’s bigger than my head!” you chuckled, grabbing the cinnamon bun with both hands and holding it up in front of your face.

“It is bigger than your head” Tom chuckled. “Wait! Don’t put it down– I need to take a pic”.

You did as he said, continuing to hold up the cinnamon bun until you heard the familiar sound of Tom taking a photo with his phone.

“Did you get it?, you asked.

“Yeah! Look”, he chuckled showing you the photo he’d just taken. The cinnamon bun covered your whole face, only the top of your beanie sticking out over it. It made you chuckle too, the sheer size of it.

“Is it okay if I post it to my story when we get back home?” he asked while you put the cinnamon bun back down and tore off a piece.

“You want to do that?” you asked a little surprised, “I thought we weren’t ready to be official like that yet.”

You’d been together for long enough for your relationship to be committed and serious. But Tom had some preservation against making your relationship official to the whole world, and not just to your family and friends. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the world to know, it was just that he didn’t want you to receive so much attention or possibly any hate, which was something you weren’t used to.

“I want it if you want it!” he said, “I love you– I’m not scared to show anyone that.”

His confession went straight to your heart where you felt it squeeze. You reached out your hand over the table to fit it with his.

“I love you too, Tom! And if you think we’re ready– it’s okay with me.”

“Okay then” he smiled. He lifted your hand, bringing it to his face where he placed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“I’ll post it when we get back home after New Year’s– I won’t tag you or anything.”

With a heart full of love for the man sitting opposite you, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to be his – and for him to be yours. Especially now, when he’d told you he was ready to take such a big step in your relationship. You drank your hot chocolates while you shared the world’s largest cinnamon bun, and later, when you walked out the café Tom was sporting a new chocolate covered smile.

Over the next few days Tom’s snowboarding only got better and better as you’d spent every day on the slopes. Soon he was starting to show off, carving hard in the swings, and spraying you with snow – teasing you. Soon you were showing off too, taking more chances and racing fast down the piste. One time you even went off-piste, your skis sinking through the powdered snow as you dodged tree after tree with Tom on your heel. All of the skiing made your heart full, and seeing Tom so happy doing an activity you grew up loving, made it grow double in size.

“Wait for me!” you giggled as you quickly sat down your winter shoes on the veranda deck.

Looking up from where you’d bent down to slip on your shoes, you watched Tom’s backside quickly run over to the bubbling hot tub. A bottle of champagne in one hand, and two glasses in the other.

It was freezing outside. The snow covered the whole veranda deck except for the small path making its way towards the hot tub that Tom had shovelled earlier. As you stepped outside you felt a wave of goosebumps prickle over your entire body. Finally with your shoes on, you sprinted towards the hot tub, your bikini clad body only covered by a small towel resting over your shoulders.

Over by the hot tub, Tom had already jumped in. His hands were raised as he tried his best to get settled without dropping your glasses and champagne into the hot bubbling water below. By the hot tub you shook off your towel, quickly discarding your shoes next to Tom’s. Swinging your right foot over the edge of the hot tub, a squeal left your mouth as your other, naked foot, stepped right in the cold snow.

The water was scolding hot. Or at least you thought it was, after running practically naked outside in the freezing temperatures. You quickly sat down, chasing the warmth of the hot bubbles and the comforting steam rising from the water. From the hot tub you had a fantastic view of the valley below and the mountains towering above it. Half an hour earlier the sun had dipped below the mountain, as it slowly got darker and darker around you everything was bathed in a cooling blue light. Down below in the valley you could see warm lights coming from the houses like glowing stars in the winter sky. Looking down on all the lights, you made yourself believe you could pinpoint the exact house where the restaurant, where you’d booked a table for later, was situated.

Opposite you Tom had sat down the glasses and the bottle of champagne on the edge of the hot tub. He was naked except for his swim trunks and the beanie you’d knitted him for Christmas. Over Christmas you’d knitted yourself a matching beanie, one that now adorned your head.

Sinking a little deeper into the hot tub, your entire body except for your face now submerged, you leaned your head back resting it against the edge. After four long days in a row spent with skis on your feet your muscles had become tired and sore. It had been a few years since you’d skied so much in such a short amount of time, and muscles you’d forgotten you had, had been put through the ringer. The warmth of the water and the bubbles massaged your muscles, and a sigh of relief left your lips.

“Feeling good?” Tom asked, followed by the loud pop of the champagne cork. Foam spewed into the hot tub before Tom filled up your glasses.

“Orgasmic,” you said, a content smile resting on your features.

“Better than last night?” he teased handing you your flute of champagne, while he sat down next to you.

“Maybe?” you teased, taking the glass from him and taking a sip. The tight knit bubbles of the wine tasted sweet on your tongue, making you lean your head on Tom’s shoulder in contentment.

“Maybe?” he exclaimed, “You sure about that darling?”, he dipped his head down. His lips ghosted over yours, while you felt a hand snake around your shoulders. “I think you and I remember last night very differently” he said with a cocky bass to his voice.

You leaned forward, hoping to catch his lips in a kiss, but he moved away from you. A small chuckle escaping his lips as a small pout now adorned your face.

“I remember you being so wet and needy for me– not a single coherent word except for ‘Tom’, and ‘please’ and ‘more’ leaving your lips while you came on my cock so many times– I lost count” he moved away from you when the last word left his lips, taking a sip of his champagne.

You didn’t know what to say as you felt heat warm your cheeks (and not because of the steam). Memories of last night, and every night since you’d arrived to be completely honest, blended together in a supercut in your head. You felt yourself getting worked up, your tights involuntary clenching together.

“What?” he teased, dipping his head down again, “You got nothing to say now?”.

You bit down on your bottom lip, “Maybe you could remind me? Make me remember again?” you asked innocently.

A sinful smile blossomed on his lips at your words. “Can’t remind you if you're gonna sit so far away from me” he said as his hand found the thick of your tight, teasing circles into your skin, while the other put his glass down.

Getting up from your seat you put down your flute of champagne at the edge of the hot tub. Then you stepped closer to Tom, before you sat down on his lap – one leg on either side of his body.

“Is this better?” you asked.

“Perfect baby” his hands came up to wrap around your body, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Do you remember what the first thing I did was?” he asked. A warm glow, coming from the light inside the cabin, bathed over his features, softening them. But his eyes were dark with lust.

You did remember, he’d taken his time with you, kissing you all over to get you worked up. But as to continue this little game you’d only just started, you shook your head.

“No?” his mouth formed a little o, mimicking the last letter of the word. You shook your head again.

“Well… firstly I gave you some kisses– like this,” he leaned closer, pressing his lips against yours.

He started out slow and languid, before he deepened the kiss by brushing his tongue along your bottom lip. You instantly opened yourself up to him. Your hands snaking around his neck. On your arms, goosebumps erupted in the wake of your movement, having left the warm water for the first time since you’d sat down.

Breaking the kiss Tom peppered soft feathery kisses along from the corner of your mouth, and down the side of your neck. You felt yourself getting more and more turned on. If you weren’t submerged in water right now, you were sure a wet patch would have formed in your panties. You shifted a little on his lap, your core brushing up against the bulge growing in his swim trunks. A moan escaped your lips at the swipe of his tongue grazing over the sweet spot behind your ear.

“I think someone is starting to remember” he teased, gently biting the skin on your neck, making you moan again.

“A little,” you breathed out, “but I don’t remember everything yet… I think I still need some more reminding.”

The small chuckle Tom breathed into your neck at your words, travelled straight to your heart where you felt it squeeze. His hands around your waist started to journey its way up your body and over your arms where they settled around your neck. More goosebumps erupted in the wake of his soft touch.

He pulled away from your face a little, watching as the pointer finger on his right hand traced the string of your bikini top. The fabric of your bikini was thin and left nothing to Tom’s imagination. The peaks of your nipples peeking through the fabric.

“It’s cold” you said shyly.

“I’m sure it is” he said, a hint of condescending sarcasm in his voice.

His finger continued to trace along the fabric of your bikini top before it circled your clothed nipple. He was teasing you more and more, making your breathing start to come out in laboured breaths.

Then he slowly pulled the fabric to the side, exposing your breasts to the cold air. His finger circled your nipple again, making you let out a small “oh”. His other hand left your neck, landing on the thick of your tight, where it snaked its way under it to help you sit up in his lap. You did as he wanted, sitting up a little so your breasts would be closer to his face.

Looking down at him, a cheeky grin adorned on his face. Leaning forward, he pressed soft kisses to the top of your breasts. He started on the right, making his way down the valley and up again over your left – never breaking eye contact.

The tension in the air between the two of you was thick with arousal. Your heart beating faster and faster with each press of his kisses. His teasing was brutally slow, but as slow and brutal as it was, you wouldn’t want it any other way. He knew exactly what to do to your body, what you liked, and what made you squirm under his touch.

When you thought you couldn’t handle it anymore, he swiped his tongue over your nipple, taking it into his mouth. Your body jerked with pleasure while a soft whine escaped your lips. He sucked on your nipple, giving it all the attention you’d longed for after so much teasing. He let go of it with a pop, moving on to the other, giving it just as much attention. Your breathing came out in heavy breaths and moans. Your cunt so wet and neglected, it was starting to hurt.

“Now I think you remember,” he said after he’d let go of your other nipple, looking up at your face from below. Your hands had found the top of his head, steadying yourself. Your fingers gripped the knit of his beanie tightly.

“I almost remember now,” you breathed out, “but there’s one thing that’s a little blurry”. You grabbed the hand that had been resting on the back of your tight since he’d made you stand up in his lap. Resuming your previous position, you sat back down. With a hand around his wrist, you guided his hand slowly down your tummy and towards the hem of your bikini bottom.

“I think you touched me here,” you said innocently, “but I can’t remember how you did it.”

“Want me to show you baby?” he asked, his finger teasing around the elastic hem.

“Yes, please!” you nodded eagerly.

“So polite for me” he praised, his hand slipping into your bikini bottom. “Asking me to touch you– like a good girl,” his finger grazed over your clit making you jump at his touch, “even saying please.”

Then he started pressing down on your clit, rubbing it in tight circles just the way he knew you liked. Your mouth fell open in a small gape as you fought to keep your eyes open.

“You like that don’t you?” he asked with a draw of his finger through your slick folds, “Me rubbing your little clit out here on the veranda where anyone can see you” his finger teased you opening. Pushing just the tip of his finger inside.

“Where anyone can see you be such a slut for me.”

Then he pushed all the way inside your cunt, the heel of his hand pressing hard against your budding clit. Your head fell back a little as he earned himself a moan. He didn’t move right away but curled his fingers, so the pad pressed right against the spot inside that made you see stars.

“Oh, Tom” you whined.

“I know baby, I know… feels good, doesn’t it?” his lips found your neck again.

“Uh-huh…” you nodded, “you’re making me feel so good– thank you.”

“You’re cute–” he said, his finger starting to move inside you, “thanking me for fingering you.”

He found a steady rhythm. With every thrust of his finger, a smear of his palm pressed against your clit. Your breathing went from laboured to erratic as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm.

“More please?” you breathed out.

“Want another finger? Is that what you want, baby?” you only nodded, not trusting your words right now. “Since you’ve been so good– saying please and thank you– I think you deserve another finger.”

He pulled out for just a second, before he entered you once again in a single thrust. The stretch of the second finger and the new, and faster pace he’d set, brought you closer and closer. With each thrust he hit your spot. When his other hand came down to brush over your clit you didn’t know how much longer you could take it, before you’d clench down hard around his fingers in bliss.

“Tom,” you warned, but he didn’t let up his pace.

“Are you close? Want me to know you’ll come around my fingers soon?” he asked with a smug tint to his voice.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” you moaned in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

“C-can I come? P-please can I come?” you begged.

“Yes, baby– you can come. Come on my fingers like a good girl.”

And with one more hit to your g-spot, and a brush of his fingers over your clit, you did. You clenched down hard around his fingers as the wave of your orgasm washed over you. Your body shook with pleasure, while moans of his name escaped your lips. He coaxed you through your orgasm with gentle draws of his fingers while he only put pressure on your clit, knowing you’d be too sensitive for his usual brushing circles.

“That’s it… that’s it” you heard him say, “good girl… such a good girl for me”.

You slumped your body against his, tiredness taking over your body as you came down from your orgasm. With one gentle movement he pulled his fingers from your cunt, before he wrapped his arms around your body in a hug. One of his arms stroked you lovingly down your back, as your breathing slowly steadied.

Shifting a little on his lap in an attempt to sit up, you felt his hard bulge underneath you. The small brush of your clit against him, made you whine a little with sensitivity. You were about to ask him if he wanted you to take care of him, but you were cut off before a single word left your lips, by a loud rumble coming from his stomach.

You couldn’t help but giggle, and apparently your giggle was contagious. Then your stomach let out a loud rumble. Your tummy too, screaming out for food. The giggling then transformed into a full on laughing fit between the both of you.

When you’d both calmed down a little Tom said, “Maybe we should start to get ready for dinner my love?”

“But I wanted to take care of you too– like you took care of me.” you whined.

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me when we get back from dinner.”

And you did. After teasing him all night during dinner playing footsie under the table, giving him sneaky touches, and innocently making innuendoes. You’d dropped to your knees the minute the door shut, and you were back inside the cabin. After fumbling a little with the belt on his dress pants, you’d taken him out, already half-hard after all your teasing, and given him a sloppy blowjob in the hall.

Later you’d moved to the bed, where he’d basically ripped off your dress, before he fucked you hard into the mattress as the fireworks outside started to go off. You both came with a bang. And after, your chests heaved as your breaths were caught. His cum going cold on your stomach. When you’d finally calmed down a little, you turned your head slightly to the digital clock placed on the bed side table. It showed: 00:06.

Turning your head back towards Tom you said, “Happy New Year Tom!”.

“Happy New Year, my love!” he answered, pressing his lips against yours in a loving New Year’s Kiss. You knew this was going to be a good year!

tags: @hollandweather, @mayal0pez, @lnmp89, @ironladsblog, @anime-parker, @melodicheauxxo-writes, @parkersdahlia, @devotion, @peterparkerfilms, @tomdutch, @t-lostinworlds, @theslayerofthevampires, @thepowerthismanhasoverme, @userholland, @kingjohn36, @brucesferret, @bbyvanessaa, @crvshnburnn

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #*writing

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t-lostinworlds · 1 year

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It’s (a) November Baby! | Tom Holland

》 PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship; fluff; crack-ish

》 SUMMARY: Tom partakes in a bet with the boys in No Nut November. But what happens if you're a November baby?

》 WARNINGS: whoriness/horniness, language, suggestive themes (mentions of sex, make out sesh, teasing, peeks at lingerie), pet names (love, baby, my love, darling, sweetheart, pretty boy, and uhm, sir), betting/wager, british banter? (lads being lads innit LMAO), innuendoes galore, bad jokes, dad jokes, dirty jokes, jesus jokes?? (...yep you read that right. it’s more religious/catholic jokes but nothing too bad i promise 😭), reader goes to the gym with tom (like one scene), nakedness (non-sexual...kinda? it’s super quick lol), implied smut at the end (nothing detailed, honestly this is pretty tame)

》 WORD COUNT: 7.1k+

A/N: there’s this thing called No Nut November & it always made me wonder what do ppl born this month do on their birthdays like, do u not get to treat yourself? LMAO so this is for my fellow november babies out there <3 well.....we are a week into december but that’s beside the point LMAO. i’m so consistent at being late with these things honestly. i mean, this was meant for last year and finally just finished it lol. but hey, it got finished <3 ksksks hope you guys enjoy! (just realised how suggestive that gif actually is lol if u know u know)

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ TOM HOLLAND MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Tom was competitive.

If there was a word best to describe him, that surely would be one of them.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing per se, it was just that sometimes, he wouldn't think things through before agreeing to a challenge.

So when the boys raised the idea of participating in No Nut November, there was no doubt that the eldest Holland would take it on headstrong without initially considering what else was in store for the month.

And then they started teasing Tom about how he could never control his constant horniness whenever he was around you, and it only fuelled his need to prove them oh so wrong.

"Tom wouldn't last a day," Tuwaine said. "Not when Y/N lives with us."

"Fuck off. I have great self-control, thank you very much," Tom scoffed, putting the last remaining red cups in the trash bag, ones that were used in the Halloween party they threw last night.

Harry rolled his eyes, obviously not believing his brother's statement. "Mate, she does absolutely nothing and you're jumping her bones in seconds!"

"Well, maybe if you've got a smoking hot—no, even just a girlfriend then you'll understand," Tom countered, smirk in full play.

"Fuck you." Harry glared at him, throwing a plastic skull in his direction to which Tom dodged with a laugh.

"They're worse than rabbits I tell you," Tuwaine grumbled, reaching up to remove the pumpkin lanterns that were hung on the wall behind the couch.

"We're not!" Tom protested.

"Nah, Tom's the only one who's always horny between the two of them," Harrison laughed as he emerged in the living room with the vacuum in hand. The blond lad's face fell into a grimace as he added, "He's always whining every night like some dog wanting to mate. I'm really regretting choosing the room next to yours."

"Oh fuck off, as if you're any better when Grace stays over," Tom retorted, Harrison's face instantly turning a deep shade of red. Tom grinned as he mimicked, "I'm really regretting choosing the room next to yours."

"Shut up, you div."

Tom laughed at that, tying up the trash bag before standing up confidently, hands on his hips as he looked over at his companions. "But no matter what you say, there's no doubt I'd cruise through November with the nut staying in the shells."

"The nut staying in the shells," Tuwaine repeated, rolling his eyes. "Why'd you have to say it like that, man?"

"Wanna bet then?" Harry challenged, an all-too-knowing smirk gracing his lips as soon as the words left it.

"Sure," Tom said calmly with a shrug, not thinking much about the mischief in Harry's eyes like the younger lad knew something, especially when he and Tuwaine shared a look.

"Go on, play your cards," Harrison chuckled. "And don't be so fucking lame and just bet fifty quid."

"Yeah, we do things differently in this house," Tuwaine agreed.

"Go big or go home," Harry said with a smirk.

"Alright, fine." Tom crossed his arms over his chest as he pursed his lips, eyes staring at the ceiling as he tried to come up with a high stake bet that would keep everyone motivated to actually pull through with this. Catching the sight of the beach painting on the wall, he smiled as it came to him.

"Whoever lasts the whole of November will win a week's holiday in Mykonos. All expenses will be paid by the others who lost," Tom offered, all the boys nodding in agreement, eyes now glossed with excitement. "If two of us win, the other two will pay. If only one person will win, the other three will pay and you get to bring a plus one," he continued.

"I have a feeling I'm going to get Gracie and me a free couple's holiday," Harrison said, clasping his hands together, beaming.

"What if we all win and you're the only one who'll lose?" Harry asked.

"Then you three will have a week-long holiday in Mykonos with all expenses paid by me." Tom shrugged nonchalantly, opening his arms to showcase himself with a calm smile. He truly did believe he wouldn't be touching his pocket anytime soon. He was confident enough in his ability to win the bet which was why he wasn't afraid to raise the stake.

"Oh, now we're talking!" Tuwaine cheered, patting Harry on the back excitedly.

"You seem so confident in this," Harrison chuckled.

"Because I know I'm not losing. I can easily go through November without a single bust," Tom stated. "So, deal?"

"Deal," the three boys chorused, proceeding to shake hands among themselves with grins on their faces, ready to take on the challenge.

"Deal on what?"

All four heads turned to look at you as you entered the living room.

A bright smile immediately erupted on Tom's face then, heart melting at the way you gently rubbed the sleep off your eyes with your knuckles, your figure clad in some sleep shorts and his purple sweatshirt.

"No Nut November. Whoever wins will go to an all-expense paid by the losers, to be extra clear, a week holiday in Mykonos," Harry explained amusedly, smirk widening when you nodded slowly.

"So..." you trailed off, turning to look at Tom with a pout as you said,

"No birthday sex for me then?"

Tom's smile got slapped off his face as his eyes widened, horror and realisation quickly dawning on his features before he dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sharp curse,

"Fuck."

All the boys burst out in rambunctious laughs, Harry and Tuwaine high-fiving which proved that they already knew about your birthday and how it could be the one thing that would secure their win on this.

"You dickheads set me up!" Tom exclaimed, shooting each lad a glare, throwing another one at Harry for good measure since he was the one who planted the idea of a bet in the first place.

"Nobody set you up," the younger Holland laughed. "You just didn't think things through, as per usual."

Tom looked at you with an apologetic pout. You flashed him a smile in return, giggling softly as you shrugged. He sighed before turning back to the boys. "Come on, surely her birthday is an exception?"

"Nope, a deal is a deal," Tuwaine laughed.

"You nut, you lose," Harry added.

Tom turned to Harrison for help. The blonde lad merely shook his head with a smirk. "You dug yourself into this hole, mate. The deal has been made," he chuckled. "Or you can just accept defeat and pay for our holiday."

"No way in hell I'm losing to you lot," Tom said through gritted teeth, too much pride and ego to easily surrender when the game barely even started yet.

"Right then." Harry clasped his hands together. "Who wants to join me on shopping?" he said, shit-eating grin never wavering as he added salt to the wound. "I feel like I need new swimming trunks and a whole lot of sunscreen for our week holiday, paid by Tom, in Mykonos."

"Oh, hell yeah!" Tuwaine grinned.

Harrison laughed, "Count me in!"

All three boys exited the room after that with as much giddiness in their step as possible, leaving you with a rather defeated Tom. You walked over to him with a tender smile, your hands smoothing over his shoulders as his fingers automatically curled around your waist once you were close enough.

"Did you forget?" you asked teasingly, brushing away the curl that fell on his forehead.

This was going to be the third birthday that you were going to be celebrating with him. The past two, nobody in the group really thought much about No Nut November, given that they were all busy career wise on top of being in different places due to conflicting schedules.

Only now did they get the chance to actually spend some much needed time together, all free for the whole month as their breaks finally coincided. And, by the looks of it, the lads seemed to have grown bored out of their minds that the idea of participating suddenly came around.

"No, of course I didn't. I would never forget about your birthday," Tom said, wrapping his arms fully around you to pull you even closer, brushing the tip of his nose against yours softly. "I just didn't make the correlation until you pointed it out."

"The bet does sound too good to pass," you hummed, amused. "I mean, free holiday? Who wouldn't want that?"

Tom pouted. "I'm so sorry, my love—"

"Hey no, it's okay, It's not a big deal," you said reassuringly, with no hint of anger or disappointment in your voice whatsoever. "You'll just have to make it up to me in December." You flashed him a lovely smile, one that was quick to turn into a smirk, though. "I also want to see how long you'll last."

"I feel like you don't have faith in me," he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at you.

"I'm your girlfriend," you giggled. "I think out of all people, I'm the most aware of how horny you get and how quickly it happens."

"Well, can't argue with that," Tom chuckled. Yet despite how true your words were, his confidence and pride still boiled in him strongly as he said, "I still believe that this is going to be easy breezy for me."

But was No Nut November really going to be easy breezy for Tom? Absolutely—

Not.

Even more so when you weren't doing anything in making it as such.

The first time Tom felt his self-control waver was when you walked out of the closet in a matching sports bra and leggings, and some white tennis shoes on to complete the look.

It was a plain, grey set, but the fabric was clinging onto your figure that Tom couldn't stop himself from gawking. It left so little to the imagination that's for sure. The lump was quick to form in his throat, lips parted as he froze, hands hovering over his last untied shoelace while his eyes raked from the top of your head, down, and then back up again.

He shook his head and blinked, clearing out his throat and standing up from his place on the bed after he tied the knot securely. He narrowed his eyes as he walked over to you, hands resting on your waist once he was close.

Tom instantly regretted the action.

Your skin was bare underneath his palms, and it was warm to the touch, soft, and oh did his hands desperately want to go further up and to the front, or down and behind.

"What're you up to?" he asked, voice dropping an octave as he hooked his thumbs on the elastic of your leggings.

You furrowed your brows, small smile on your lips as you stared at him quizzically. "I'm coming with you to the gym starting today, remember?"

No, he did not remember.

Tom stared at you suspiciously at first, trying to gauge if there was some sort of hidden plan you were cooking. But you merely raised a brow as you tilted your head, smile widening with amusement.

Then it hit him.

"For fuck's sake."

You had set a goal for yourself that you were going to start exercising as much and as often as you could. And being the ever supportive boyfriend that he is, Tom, of course, offered to help out by saying you could come to the gym with him.

You'd set up a friendly competition between the two of you—well, it was mostly a pack you made for yourself that the number of days you'd gone to the gym should be equal if not more than Tom's. You said it was to help keep you motivated to not miss a session, especially when you were going against him who works out religiously.

It wasn't to change your appearance in any sort of way. Tom even sat you down to talk, just to make sure you weren't doing it for the wrong reasons, that you were doing it because you wanted to, not because you were pressured to. And most importantly, that you were doing this for yourself, not to impress anyone else, including him.

But you'd reassured him it was simply to be more active, build a bit of strength and improve your cardiovascular endurance where you wouldn't be out of breath after doing some simple task.

Tom was all up for it, always willing to give his full support when it came to your wonderful, productive, goal driven and other times, spontaneous ventures. As long as it wasn't illegal, of course—well, even that's debatable.

It just so happens that you both agreed, merely a couple of days ago, that November was the most reasonable time for you to start.

Why oh why did it seem like all the odds were somewhat against him this month? Or did he simply not think things through before agreeing to this bet?

Tom's pride picked the former.

"Hmm, I didn't know that not busting a nut makes you forgetful," you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.

"Shut up. I've been distracted," he grumbled defensively, nudging the tip of his nose with yours with a pout.

"Obviously," you laughed. "I mean, you have been thinking with the wrong head lately."

Tom nodded slowly, running his tongue over his teeth with a dark chuckle, "You and your quick wit." With an eyebrow raised in warning, he squeezed your waist. "It's gonna get you in trouble."

"Oh, you like it," you murmured, smirking as you tilted your head up, brushing your lips over his but never closing the distance, just like the little tease that you are.

"Not in the bedroom I don't," Tom warned, voice dropping an octave.

His fingers dug into your hips, head pulling back when you tried to go in for a kiss. He knew what you were trying to do, and he wasn't going to let you get the upper hand.

But then you whined.

And how was he meant to resist that?

Though the second he let lips touch yours, it set him on fire.

Tom's self control cracked as he pulled you flushed against his chest. Tilting his head, he groaned when you teased your tongue against his lip, him obliging your request not even a split second later.

Big mistake.

The kiss immediately grew heavy and hot, his hands wandering, squeezing, gripping, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging gently as you let a moan slip out.

Tom quickly pulled away, lips detaching from yours with a soft pop.

"Fuck," he gasped, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tried his best to settle down his raging bo—heart. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

"Oh it's definitely harder."

Tom pulled away, shooting you a glare. "Ha, ha, you're so funny."

"I know, the one thing I didn't learn from you," you quipped with a smirk.

"Ouch." Tom pouted at you. "Wait, I am funny."

"Debatable."

"I mean my dad's a comedian."

"Well, even more debatable."

Tom gaped at you. "Harsh."

"The fact that I'm still with you even after your bad jokes—" You shook your head, cupping his cheek tenderly as you sighed, "True love does exist."

"You're wounding me, darling," Tom said, turning his head to kiss your palm before he looked back at you with a pout. You giggled, leaning closer to kiss it away. Successfully so as he was unable to stop himself from breaking out into a grin.

"Love you," you hummed against his lips.

"Love you most," he sighed, squeezing you one more time before pulling away.

"Now, let's get to the gym shall we?" you said.

Tom nodded, moving over to his bedside table to get his wallet, phone and keys.

"I'm staying as far away from you the whole time, by the way," he said, pointing an accusing finger at you, glaring playfully as he followed you out the bedroom and down the hall.

You laughed, "As if that'll help."

And oh you were so right. It did not fucking help, at all.

It was torture watching you go from stretching to then running on the treadmill where your lovely thighs and ass were just there for him to watch as they jiggled with your movements. And then you went from curl-ups, to push-ups, planks and then squats. The fucking squats was when he started to feel really, really hot. His suffering didn't even end there. You working out in itself was already a lot. But then all of it just seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Everything you were doing was happening in slow motion as if you were in some TV commercial, and Tom was simply there to watch on the screen, unable to do anything about it—well, unless he wanted to lose the bet.

No matter how many times Tom tried to convince himself that it was simply his mind playing tricks on him, it didn't make a fucking difference.

He couldn't even look at you when you drank from your water bottle—head thrown back with your neck stretched out—it was just too much for him to handle.

Tom was drenched in sweat by the time you both were done for the day, and he knew it wasn't only from his workout. The tent on his basketball shorts proved that. Hell, he didn't even get to fully complete his sets given that you were being a huge distraction—a very attractive, gorgeously sexy and hot distraction.

And you weren't even doing it on purpose!

You merely laughed at his demise when you both got in the car, Tom keeping both hands on the steering wheel which he didn't normally do when it's you in the passenger's seat. Your laugh only grew louder when you saw how tight his grip was, simply to keep them there in fear that the second he'd even just feel the warmth of your thigh, he'd absolutely lose it.

"Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"Why won't you look at me?"

There was no doubt you knew exactly why he couldn't sneak a glance, you simply wanted to poke him about it. He could do it in the gym because there was distance, admire you from afar as you could say. But now? He didn't trust himself. Not with you being so close where he'd probably be able to notice the sweat that littered your warm skin, trailing down the valley of your—that thought itself just about tempt him to pull over once he finds an empty parking space.

"'Cause I'm driving," he lied through gritted teeth.

That made you laugh even more.

He couldn't be mad at you, though. Because one, he absolutely loves your laugh, it's the most beautiful sound in the world. And two, well, it genuinely was quite laughable, how it's only been day one and he was already grasping at straws.

It wasn't because he was always that horny around you exactly, it was because he couldn't do anything about it which was frustrating. And the more frustrated he got, the tougher it was to put himself in check. Basically, he got even hornier, and it just went round and round and kept building and building.

It's definitely going to be a white Christmas once he explodes.

Hell, white Christmas might even come early if Tom did so, too.

He didn't even care how bad those jokes were.

But what Tom dreaded the most was that he knew it'd only get har—more difficult to control himself from here on out.

And as the days dragged on—and oh how much longer did it fucking drag where it seemed that a minute was over an hour—Tom found himself taking cold showers frequently. He did it much more often in a way that it for sure helped with lessening the bills in this house. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he took a proper hot shower. But there was nothing else he could think of that would help calm down his...needs.

Said needs that only grew stronger whenever you were in the vicinity.

It was amusing borderline ridiculous how hyperaware he'd gotten about your presence. Tom's not a scientist so he had no idea how to explain the hows, all he knew was that everything about you suddenly became more.

Scent sweeter, more intoxicating, touch warmer, more electrifying, skin softer, more tempting.

And when pre-No-Nut-November him already felt so strongly for you, how his emotions were always at a high level when it comes to you, imagine how much more intense everything got? It was like going from dialling it to eleven to suddenly making it a hundred.

If Tom had to guess what having spider-senses actually felt like, this was definitely it.

What made him realise that he was absolutely done for was the fact that even the faint smell of your shampoo was starting to get him worked up.

Better yet, that the sight of you in his hoodie was already giving him a semi.

"God-fucking-dammit," Tom grumbled, rubbing his face with his palm frustratedly as he tore his gaze away from you, shifting in his seat as he placed a pillow on his lap.

All three lads looked at him, comedically in sync as they looked at you in the kitchen, and then back at Tom.

"Fucking hell, she's just cooking!" Harry laughed.

"Yeah, in my clothes," Tom reasoned.

"I feel like this is actually a life lesson for you," Tuwaine chuckled. "You're actually just a walking horn dog."

"I see his point, though. When you see your girlfriend in your clothes, it's just different," Harrison said. "Brings back some memories too as to why she ended up wearing your clothes in the first place, if you get what I mean."

"Thank you!" Tom exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air before he gestured towards Tuwaine and Harry with a glare. "The difference between who's single and who's not."

"You mean the difference between the winners and losers?" Harry grinned.

"As if I didn't see you skip a kissing scene—not even a sex scene—so fucking quick in that movie you and Harrison watched last night. The one with Channing Tatum," Tom countered.

Harry turned bright red as he threw a pillow at his brother, "Fuck off. Rachel McAdams is my weakness."

"Or Channing Tatum," Tuwaine interjected, the boys nodding in agreement.

"He actually didn't watch the movie, he was just drooling the whole time," Harrison snitched, earning a smack from Harry.

"That's poor from you, Baz," Tuwaine snorted.

"At least I'm not having a fucking boner just seeing my girlfriend cooking in my hoodie," Harry argued, immediately receiving back the pillow he threw at Tom earlier.

"Domesticity is sexy, fuck you." Tom flipped the boys off as he got up from the couch and made his way over to you in the kitchen.

He'd already established that staying away from you didn't make that much of a difference. It was either suffer while being far away from you, or suffer while getting to hold you close.

Tom will always pick the latter.

"Hi, my love," he hummed, arms wrapping around you from behind as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

"Hey, handsome," you giggled, squeezing his forearm before continuing to chop up the broccoli. "I can change if you want."

Tom scrunched up his face. "You heard?"

"You guys aren't exactly the quietest bunch."

"We could say the exact same to the both of you!"

"Touché!" you called out with a laugh. "Although, we have been pretty quiet lately."

"Oh it's so peaceful," Harry let out a fake sob. "I'm going to miss the peace and quiet once November is over."

"Well, quiet for you lot downstairs," Harrison complained. "I hear Tom cry every night because his dick is too hard and he can't do anything about it."

"Stop fucking lying, Harrison!"

"Is he though?" you asked, nose scrunching.

Tom rolled his eyes as he grumbled, "I don't cry, I complain."

"Right, because there's a difference."

Tom shook his head, but didn't bother arguing as he nuzzled his face into your neck, fingers playing with the hem of the hoodie. "You know, it should be a crime how you always look so good in my clothes. Like, fuck me, please."

"Shut up," you laughed.

"But no, there's no need to change," he hummed, planting a few kisses on your warm skin and then your cheek. "It's my job to get my mind out of the gutter, my job to control the urges, my job not to give into the temptation. Never yours."

"Preach it, Pastor Tom."

The way his whole body immediately ran cold at that, it was award-winning. It was quick, how turned off he immediately got.

"Please," Tom started with a sharp intake of breath. "Do not call me that, ever again, I am begging you."

"What? With how you're acting lately," you trailed off, grin turning wider. "You need Jesus!"

"Darling!" Tom groaned.

You laughed, "Did it work?"

"Yup," he sighed, eyes dropping to his crotch. "It's fully deflated now. I think it even shrunk in."

You laughed at that, patting him right on top of the head. "You last another day, Holland."

"Thank you, baby," he cooed sarcastically.

"Oh no, don't thank me," you hummed, pointing at the ceiling, eyes following suit. "Thank the Lord."

"I hate you so much," he grumbled, pulling away completely and making his way out the kitchen.

"What? You'd prefer me to douse you in holy water instead?" you called out, your laugh still bouncing off the walls.

"The number you have dialled has already disconnected!"

"But Tom, I wanted a kiss!"

That stopped him in his tracks, a smile tugging at his lips which he quickly wiped off as he turned and walked back to you.

"Not until you promise me no more Jesus jokes," he said, pointing an accusing finger.

"Amen," you said, trying your hardest to keep a straight face but laughing only a second later when he grabbed a chopped carrot and threw it at you. "Wasting food is a sin, Tom!"

He grabbed the ladle from the pot, aiming a full scoop of mashed potatoes right at you. "I swear if you don't cut that out—"

"Okay! Okay," you snorted, hands up as you slowly walked towards him, putting the ladle back before wrapping your arms around his neck. "No more, I promise."

With a sigh, Tom circled his arms around you and gave you the kiss you asked for.

"You are so lucky I love you."

"Hmm, I love you, too."

•••

Tom's heart stopped, beating again but at twice its normal pace. But all it did was pump the blood straight down as he walked into your shared bedroom.

At first glance, the sight was innocent, you laying on your stomach, feet in the air as you flicked through the pages of your book.

But not only were you wearing his hoodie again, it was hiked up just enough for Tom to get a clear view of your red, lacy underwear.

"Darling, I don't normally ask you this," he started, voice low and rough as he stayed frozen on his spot by the door. "But I really need you to put some pants on."

"Oh, sorry," you said, not sounding apologetic at all as you scrambled off the bed. With your back turned to him, your book suddenly 'fell' off your hands. "Oops," you gasped, making a show of bending over to pick it up.

One glance was all it took.

Tom was behind you in seconds, abruptly pulling you upright. He turned you around to face him, his grip tightening on your waist as he pressed you against the nearest wall.

And if the devilish smile you wore was anything to go by, you knew exactly what you were doing.

"Who's putting you up to this?" he grumbled, trying his best to keep his hands still and not let them wander, especially under the hoodie you were wearing. He'd be gone if he did as much as feel a sliver of your skin.

"No one," you hummed, a grin appearing on your lips as you shrugged. "Well, me."

His brow quirked up. "Why?"

"Because I'm really, really horny," you admitted unashamedly. "But I guess I'll have to take care of that myself, alone, in the shower."

Tom let out a harsh breath through his nose as he screwed his eyes shut. "You're having your fun with this, too, huh?"

"I am," you giggled, fingers taking home in the mesh of his curls. "Mainly because I love seeing you all riled up. I mean, you're so hot when you're angry. But then angry you leads to sex that is just whew."

His glare was sharp with warning as he met your eyes again. "Sweetheart—"

"Don't lose, though," you hummed, nails lightly scratching at his scalp, making a shiver run down his whole body. "I mean imagine the fun we'll have if you get to win this. Just the two of us in Mykonos, me in your favourite bikinis, salt water on my skin, under the sun, rubbing sunscreen—"

"You are not helping," he groaned, head dropping to place a kiss on the juncture where your neck and jaw meet. "But thanks for the motivation, love."

"Anytime, pretty boy."

You escaped his hold before he could even say a word, a skip in your step as you made your way to the en suite bathroom.

"Fucking hell," he grumbled, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face with a deep sigh, "Might as well start praying to contain myself."

You laughed heartily at that, shooting him a wink over your shoulder, a blow of a kiss before you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

Absolute fucking tease.

Tom knew he needed to get out before he could even hear you start to get...busy.

So he grabbed a spare towel in the closet and made his way downstairs, thankful that there was more than one bathroom in this place. He really needed a cold shower to calm himself down a bit.

But when he got there, Harrison was waiting by the door, the water already running inside.

"Harry in there?" Tom asked the blonde lad, turning back to the white-painted wood when he got the confirmation. "Mate, what are you doing?"

"I'm showering, piss off!"

Tom grinned. "Are you sure you're not losing?"

"I swear on my dick I'm not! I'll cut it off myself if I'm lying!"

"Damn," Tom blew out his cheeks, eyes wide with amusement before he turned to the blonde lad. "What happened?"

"The Notebook," Harrison said, chuckling.

"Ah." Tom nodded, remembering certain scenes that the movie had. "So it's a cold shower then."

Harrison laughed, nodding. It was only then did Tom notice he had a towel in hand, face unusually flushed.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

"She posted a picture, pool party with some friends," Harrison grumbled, as if it pained him to say it out loud.

Tom rolled his eyes. "You guys have it so fucking easy yet here you are."

"It's my favourite bikini on her, leave me alone," he argued, before his eyes narrowed. "Wait, don't you have your own shower?"

Tom shrugged. "She's busy."

"Oh," Harrison said, a few seconds passing before his eyes widened as he looked at Tom. "Oh."

"Yup," he sighed, doing his best not to close his eyes to the picture of you in the shower doing things he should be doing to you. He wouldn't dare bless his imagination. Not unless he wanted to get pushed past his sanity.

"You're right, we do have it easy," Harrison chuckled, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

"You guys are such horny losers," Tuwaine's laugh boomed across the hall as he walked by them.

He was about to retort when he suddenly heard your voice.

"Tom? Your turn," you said as you appeared down the stairs, wearing the same hoodie but sporting some sweatpants this time. Smirking, you added, "I put it on extra cold."

"How considerate. Even if you caused the problem in the first place." he scoffed, rolling his eyes, planting a soft kiss on your lips before he made his way back to your shared bedroom.

•••

Tom should've known.

Especially when he knew just how much of an absolute devil you got once you start your little game. You never shied away from pushing him to the brink when you so obviously wanted something specific from him.

He should've seen it coming from miles away.

The deep hiss he let out echoed in the bathroom when he stepped under the cold water, yet the relief he felt only lasted for a second.

Because when he looked up, he was eye to eye with your stark red bra and matching lace underwear, hanging prettily on the showerhead.

The cold water didn't work so well anymore.

"Y/N!"

"What?" You appeared in the bathroom a few moments later, smiling innocently.

Tom glared, lifting his fingers to show you the lingerie you not-so-accidentally hung just above his head. It was as close as dangling warm, red meat in front of a starving beast.

"You little minx."

"Oh hello, haven't seen him in a while," you giggled as you so blatantly stared between his legs, licking your lips slowly as your eyes trailed over the rest of his naked body.

"You're fucking me with your eyes," Tom stated, yet by no means did anything to cover up. It's not like you haven't seen it countless times before. Besides, he loved the attention, he always did when it came to you. Whether he'd admit that now, though, was the question.

"Oh you bet I am. I mean, can you blame me?" you admitted unashamedly, sauntering over to him. He sucked in a sharp breath when your hands landed on his biceps, squeezing and then moving up his shoulder. He held it in, his lungs be damned as your fingers started to trail down his abs. "I've got such a gorgeous boyfriend."

Before you could move past below his V-line, Tom immediately caught your wrist, grip firm as a warning, but not enough for it to hurt. His free hand came up, pinching your chin between his fingers as held you in place. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, stance commanding, dominating, as he spoke in a tone that he only ever used whenever you were being a brat.

"Out, sweetheart."

You grinned that devilish smile of yours, kissed his thumb, and purred,

"Yes, sir."

You were out of the bathroom before Tom could even do as much as take a breath.

He looked up at the ceiling, a sound mixed between a sob and a laugh escaping him as he said,

"Lord Jesus Christ, help me."

•••

You stirred awake at the faint sound of an alarm going off.

It was quickly stopped, though, silence ringing in the air but for only a moment before the soft rustling of the sheets bounced off the bedroom walls.

Yet what made your eyes flutter open was the feeling of that familiar mess of curls tickling the flesh on your inner thighs, followed by those warm lips you adore brushing against your skin, leaving soft yet praising kisses on its wake.

You giggled, blinking away the remnants of sleep before your gaze settled on the man below you. His handsome face sported that charming smile, illuminated by a soft orange glow coming from his bedside lamp.

It was like clockwork, Tom waking you up at midnight during your birthday to give you your first gift in a form of praise, love and affection, giving and showing them to you in more ways than not.

"There's the birthday girl," he hummed lowly, hands running along your thighs, his lips following its path.

"Come here," you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair lovingly.

Tom smiled, slowly kissing up your leg, placing one on your hip before moving towards your clothed stomach, blowing a raspberry to earn a laugh. He continued his way up to the valley between your breast, up and up, until he gently nipped at your collarbone, humming to himself once he reached the warmth of your neck.

He stayed there for a moment, your head tilting instinctively so he could litter your skin with open mouth kisses with ease.

Once Tom was satisfied, his lips found your jaw then, kisses given to your left cheek, moving across your face to stop at the tip of your nose, kissing it twice before he trailed over to the other cheek. Heaps of giggles rumbled out of you as he kissed your eyelids, then your forehead before moving across your crown.

Your gazes locked once he pulled away slightly, forearms resting on either side of your head, his smile brighter than the moonlight that seeped through the bedroom window.

"Happy Birthday, my darling love," he whispered.

"Thank you," you hummed, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

It escalated quicker than you'd anticipated it to.

Then again, it's been a common thing to happen nowadays.

Next thing you knew, Tom was groaning against you, tongue prying your lips open before licking into your mouth as his body nudged your legs apart, settling in between them. His hands were deliberate yet loving as they grabbed at every part of you—hips, thighs, waist, chest, earning whispered moans with each tender squeeze.

Then, his hips moved on their own accord, a deep growl pulling him off your lips. He nuzzled his face into your neck, kissing fervently before slowly starting to nip at the skin.

"Tom, wait," you gasped, cupping his face and gently prying him off of you. Both chests heaving, you looked into his darkened eyes, smiling at him sympathetically. "We can't remember?"

"Fuck," he groaned, reluctantly pulling away and plopping back on his side of the bed, forearm draped over his eyes. With a pout, he turned to you. "You're not part of it though so you can still get off."

"I wouldn't want you to do that," you said in pure honesty. It just seemed far too mean to be taking the pleasure he'd give you when he'd be suffering while doing so. You shifted in bed, kissing his bare shoulder before you rested your head on his chest. "Wouldn't want to torture you on my birthday."

"You let me have the best birthday sex ever this year and I can't even return the favour," he sighed, the frustration and disappointment prominent in his voice.

You had surprised him with a new pair of much more risqué lingerie and a little private show. It was safe to say it was one of the best nights of his life, because it sure was one of the best sex you'd ever had. You absolutely had no clue how you'd be able to top it next year.

"It's okay," you hummed sincerely, kissing up his jaw before meeting his gaze. "December has plenty of free days."

Tom looked at you for a moment, and you could practically see it in his eyes, the way the gears in his head were turning. It was almost as if he was weighing all the pros and cons of his upcoming decision, whatever that may be.

You weren't given a chance to ask about it when he spoke.

"You know what, fuck it," he scoffed, lips finding yours again with a soft groan, pushing you back into the mattress as he returned to settling between your legs. Trailing down your jaw then to your neck, he murmured, "You and your pleasure are far more important to me than some stupid bet."

"But I really would love to go to Mykonos," you teased with a giggle, a sound replaced by a whimper when Tom started sucking on your sweet spots, surely leaving a mark.

"Then I'll easily take you there on my own, sweetheart," he cockily said, sitting back on his knees. "Part two of your gift. But for now..." he trailed off, smirking, hands finding their way under your shirt, fingers hooking on your underwear.

"My girl deserves to get dicked down on her birthday."

"Tom!" you laughed.

You both jumped at the sudden ruckus outside your door.

"Woohoo!" Tuwaine hollered.

"Mykonos, here we come!" Harry cheered, followed by Harrison's boisterous laugh.

Tom's whole body slumped right on top of you with an annoyed groan.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" all of them chorused.

You laughed, "Thank you!"

"Nah," Tuwaine chuckled. "Thank you for the free holiday!"

"You're welcome?" you snorted, shaking your head. "I guess?"

Lifting his head up, Tom shouted back, "I suggest you three leave the house while we haven't started yet!"

"It's fucking midnight!"

"Deez nuts busting, they're not caring!"

A chorus of groans echoed behind the door, followed by an onset of boos that had you plopping back in bed with a hearty laugh.

"That alone is enough to make me leave," Tuwaine grumbled.

"Come on, T, let's crash at mum and dad's," Harry said, words quickly followed by their footsteps growing further.

"Right," Harrison sighed, and you could almost see his grimace through the door at the realisation that his room was right next to yours. "Definitely staying with Grace tonight."

Tom chuckled, "You'll be the next to lose then Harrison!"

He didn't get a response, only an echo of silence as the boys went to wherever it was they planned to escape for the night to avoid trauma.

"That was so bad," you snorted. "See what I mean about true love?"

"Sorry, sorry," he hummed, warm hands kneading your bare thighs as he pecked your lips, eyes meeting yours, he wiggled his brows. "Now, where were we?"

You tilted your head at him innocently. "Me getting dicked down?"

"You better be ready," Tom chuckled darkly, smirk widening as he gently pushed your legs apart a little wider.

You bit your lip. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm, because for the whole day, a 24-hour time limit?" Tom licked his lips as he eyes trailed hungrily over you, the heat in your belly bursting into a flame as he said, "Let's try and see if you can come as many times as the years you've been on this earth."

Oh you were in for a long birthday ahead.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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958 notes · View notes

websterss · 1 year

Text

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐒 — 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Peter Parker meets Tom Holland

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,068

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Peter Parker x fem!Reader & Tom Holland

𝐀/𝐍: Reposting old fics!!! Hope you like it! <33

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Ned I don’t know if this is such a good idea to go to this party. We aren’t even popular.” Peter told his best friend.

“Peter, come on, this is going to be great. Maybe you’ll finally get your chance to ask Y/n out.” Ned reminded him.

“Yeah yeah yeah, you’re right.” Peter nodded, turning forward to the entrance of the enormous house.

Peter and Ned walked in seeing a bunch of their classmates and a bunch of other people they hardly knew. Amongst the crowd, Peter spotted the one person he was looking forward to seeing tonight. You were with your group of friends laughing about something that had happened during school.

“Hey Y/n.” Peter approached you slowly, looking between you and your friends.

“Oh hey Peter, you came!” You smiled at him.

“Yeah, I thought I could use a break from all the books.” He laughed nervously.

“Well, I’m glad.” You said.

“Me too.” He smiled.

You and Peter turned to look at your friends who were snickering.

“What’s so funny guys?” You let out a halfhearted laugh. You knew very well what they were laughing about. Peter. Sure he was shy and didn’t get out much but that’s what made him so unique and different. That’s what made you like him so much.

Your friends on the other hand, considered Peter to be a dork, an outcast. They didn’t even bother to give him a second glance. So when you heard them laughing you knew right then and there who their main source was to cause their fits of laughter.

“Nothing Y/N. We just remembered something, that's all.” One of your friends shrugged.

“If it’s nothing then what is it?” You shrugged as well.

“Listen we have to go refill our drinks but we’ll tell you later, okay?” Your friends scurried off elsewhere.

“Sorry about that.” Peter said, avoiding your gaze.

“What’re you sorry about?” You stared at him confused.

“Your friends don’t seem to like me.” He muttered.

“They just don’t know you.” You placed your arm on his shoulder.

“I guess…”

“Hey cheer up, we're at a party after all!” You playfully pushed him.

“Okay.” He breathed out.

“I’m going to go get us some drinks so stay here alright.” You told him.

“I’ll be waiting right here.” He smiled.

You gave him a smile and headed towards the kitchen. Peter watched you with a feeling he couldn’t describe.

“So how does someone like you get Y/n L/n’s attention?” A voice spoke behind him. Peter turned around to be face to face with none other than Flash Thompson himself.

“What do you want, Flash?” Peter groaned

“Your homework. No seriously Peter, what's your secret?” Flash looked at him with a serious expression.

“Secret? What secret, there’s no secret. I don’t have a secret!” Peter stuttered.

“Well, you obviously have something if it gets Y/n to notice you.”

“Notice me-Y/n’s just a friend.” Peter grew timid.

“But you clearly have feelings for her.” Flash pointed out.

“Whatever.” Peter stood up from his seat and shoved past Flash.

You looked around the kitchen trying to locate where the red solo cups were. As much as you liked to party, you didn't drink alcohol. So the best way to blend in was to use the red cups and pour a suitable drink.

You finished pouring Peter’s soda and retreated back to where he was waiting for you. You didn’t see him sitting down thinking he had wandered somewhere else. You looked over the living room and spotted those luscious curls of his. He was standing next to some girl by the stairs. You thought nothing of it and walked up to him.

“Here is one non-toxic beverage.” You laughed handing him his drink. He looked up at you with a confused expression. He looked at the blonde he was talking to then at you. “This is the part where you say thank you…” You gestured with your hand.

“I’m sorry love, do I know you?” Peter said with an English accent.

Okay ouch, that stung. You thought.

“Very funny Peter, you got me, now what’s with the stupid fake accent?” You said, amused.

“Peter? I don’t know what’d ya mean by a fake accent love, my name is Tom.”

You took in his words. Did Peter change while you were gone? No, he couldn’t have? This Tom guy was dressed very differently. He wore a much different attire than what Peter would usually wear.

“Would you excuse me for a moment.” You nervously laughed and ran off to another part of the house.

You were so deep in your thoughts you didn’t notice a figure in front of you. You stumbled into them losing your balance, they caught you and held you upright.

“Y/n, you okay?” You looked up at Peter. He was wearing his nerdy white t-shirt and his flannel on top.

“Peter? but you were just over there, how did you get here?”

“What do you mean I was looking for you but you never showed up with my drink.”

“Oh good, it’s really you this time. I think I’m losing it!” You hugged his waist.

“This time? What are you talking about? Where’s my drink?” He asked.

“Just come with me.” You pulled him with you to where you last saw this Tom guy.

“But I didn’t get my drink.” He complained.

You rolled your eyes and gazed over the living room again trying to find him. You finally spotted him on a chair talking to a guy with blondish hair. Peter must’ve noticed where you were looking because his eyes widened. You walked closer to them.

“Hey, Tom was it?” You asked curiously. You were freaking out.

“Yeah-” He cut his sentence off looking behind you.

“Oh, bloody hell mate he looks just like you!” Harrison exclaimed.

“You look just like me…” Peter mumbled.

“No, you look just like me!” Tom said back.

“No you both look the exact same!” You stepped in. Both heads turned towards you. “You could be twins!”

“This is so cool!” Peter said excitedly.

“Absolutely man.” Tom agreed.

“Peter Parker.” Peter stuck out his hand.

“Tom Holland.” Tom nodded and smiled.

“And I’m Y/n L/n.” You smiled. They looked at you with raised eyebrows. “What? This is the coolest thing that’s happened to me today!” You shrugged.

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etoileholland · 1 year

Text

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 :)

#tom holland x you #tom holland oneshot #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland and reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland one shots #tom holland x female reader #tom holland and y/n #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #mine

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michellejunes · 2 years

Text

lock the door ✩ tom holland

word count ✎ 3.1k

tropes ✎ mob!tom / married!au / smut

warnings ✎ exhibition, oral sex (m receiving), brief masturbation, fingering, desk sex, dom/sub, edging, orgasm denial, talk of a hypothetical threesome, light spanking, sir kink

summary ✎ you surprise your husband at his new office with a gift under your dress and another under his desk. but you forgot to lock the door��

a/n ✎ hey besties, i wrote the first half at home and the second on the train so i’m sorry if it feels rushed at the end 💀 please reblog and let me know what you think 💗

“Knock knock.”

A glance up from his work was made, then a double-take. “Mrs Holland,” Tom greeted. “Aren’t you supposed to be at home?”

Closing the door behind you, you smiled. “I thought I would come visit, see how you’re getting on.” With that you came closer to the desk.

The file in front of him was shut and pushed to the side. “And you couldn’t have waited for me to come home to ask that?” he teased with a smirk.

You were at his side, your fingers trailing across the desk. “I know that settling into a new place can be stressful sometimes.”

Your movements and tone felt suggestive; his head slightly turned as you stepped beside him, eyes following your fingers. “It is,” Tom slowly agreed.

“Well, since it’s my day off, I thought I could help you.” You smiled.

“Help me? And how would you do that?”

“That was… my question to you, actually.” You bit your lip. “Do you need help with anything, Mr Holland?”

Despite the fact he was usually called by such a formal title due to his career, it always hit him differently when it came from you; his cock was almost immediately hardening. Turning to face you a little more, he leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyes to rake up and down your body. “I could use a release, now that you mention it.”

“Of course.” You sat on the desk. “Where would you like me?”

Humming, Tom rolled his chair back a little, then motioned to the opening beneath his desk. “On your knees,” that familiar smirk returned, “Where you belong.”

It was a nice, sturdy desk, and you hiked up your skirt as you slid beneath it, revealing the stockings and garter belt underneath the simple blue dress. “Yes, Mr Holland.” Your brow was raised, but you were smirking as you knelt.

“Christ, Y/N,” he mumbled when he spotted the lingerie, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. But as soon as you settled beneath the furniture, he slid his chair back to where it was, giving you access to him.

You took a moment to work the sleeves down and pull the dress down to bunch around your waist, showing off the blue silk and black lace bra underneath, before both hands were on his pants, undoing the button, pulling down the zip, and tugging the fabric open to reveal his cock straining against his boxers, then kissing softly along the outline.

A quiet exhale left Tom’s lips as he pulled the file he’d been looking at earlier back in front of him, knowing it was useless to try to work while you were between his thighs, but he had to at least try.

Well, maybe not.

Regardless, the file was opened and a pen put atop it before he was sinking into his chair, eyes closing.

You worked his cock free from his boxers, slowly stroking it. It was already hard, but you liked the way it felt in your grip. This was hardly the first time you had played like this, but it had always been at home, where you being his secretary and looking after him could be played out for as long as you wanted.

He slightly moved his chair back to see you even though you didn’t have your mouth around him yet, his eyes focused on how you were stroking his cock. “Come on, baby,” Tom breathed, pulling his dress shirt up a little, “Start sucking.”

Your lips closed around the tip, and carefully you began to work him into your mouth, inch by inch, sucking as he had asked. Your tongue flicked along the tip, swirling into the little slit, as your hands ran up and down his thighs, squeezing gently. Your eyes met his.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes briefly closing as he relished in the pleasure, though they were soon opening again to focus on you. “God, yes. I’m so glad you stopped by, love.”

You winked, your lips wrapping around the base. You started to bob your head, careful not to hit the desk, watching his expression as you swallowed around him.

It was difficult to see you when you started moving back and forth, the edge of the desk getting in the way, so Tom opted for letting his eyes flutter shut, his head tipping back into the chair as he enjoyed what you were doing to him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he panted.

There was a knock at the door.

Tom sat up straight in his chair, making a quick glance down at you. “Who—” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, “—Who is it?”

“It’s Harrison. You were looking up the Thompson case?”

“Fuck, fuck,” Tom whispered, leaning back enough to see you. “Did you lock the door?”

You let out a soft noise to indicate no.

“I’m—” heat rushed through him, his chest still heaving from pleasure, “—I’m, uh… I was, yeah, but, um…” Fuck, he couldn’t think straight.

“… is now a bad time?” Harrison called.

If he said ‘yes,’ that was a clear indicator he wasn’t alone; but if he said ‘no,’ then Harrison would come into the room. And you weren't stopping.

“… No? I don’t—I don’t kn—” Taking a sharp inhale, Tom just shook his head. “No, it’s—it’s fine.”

The door opened, and Harrison walked in. His eyes immediately locked onto Tom. “Everything all right?”

Tom shifted in his seat, quickly nodding his head. “Mhm, yeah. Everything’s fine,” he answered, though his voice was tense.

“Sure? You look like you need to adjust your thermostat,” Harrison chuckled, as he came over, the file in his hand. “Here. Everything I’ve got on Thompson and his closest men. Seems pretty open and shut, we’re looking at breaking and entering, theft and arson in our Manchester warehouse. You really don’t think the guy did it?”

It might have been funny if the room actually wasn’t much hotter than usual and Tom’s face wasn’t flushed red from pleasure. Not to mention frustration as Harrison approached. Still, Tom leaned forward a little, taking the file and setting it down. “No,” he answered, clearing his throat again as he shifted in his seat once more. “It was, uh… h-he had a—what’s it called—alibi. Made sense. Pretty—pretty sure he’s being,” god, he was squeezing the arm of his chair, “Uh, framed by a rival or enemy.”

“Man, Y/N has changed you,” Harrison chuckled. “Tom Holland giving someone the benefit of the doubt. That’s impressive.”

Tom’s other hand was on his chin, his elbow on the arm of the chair as he leaned on that side, still gripping the other. “Mm, she has,” he agreed through gritted teeth.

You were careful just to lick him, not sucking too hard, or doing anything that would make too much noise in front of Harrison.

Harrison paused. Then the tiniest of smirks quirked at his lips. “So, how is she? How are you getting along?”

Great. He wasn’t leaving but apparently making fucking small talk. “She’s—she’s good,” Tom replied. “We’re, um, doing good. Really good.”

“Glad to hear it. Surprised she took you up on that offer to get her overseeing the Liverpool division in the end. What changed her mind?” Harrison asked.

You took that moment to slowly deepthroat him.

A slow, shaky breath left Tom’s nose as his eyes tightly shut. “You know, I have—I have no idea,” he admitted.

“You’re probably right,” Harrison agreed. “I’m sure it took a lot of hard work with you sucking up to her to get her to change her mind.”

Meeting the blond man’s gaze, they stared at one another for a long moment. “… Meaning?”

“I’d tell you, but trying to explain it would,” Harrison’s lips quirked, “be a mouthful.”

Tom picked up the closest thing to him—a paperweight that had been a gift years ago—and chucked it at his best friend. “Get the fuck out.”

Harrison caught it, laughing, and placed it back on the desk. “Have a good afternoon, Tom. And Y/N.” With that, he rapidly left the room.

As soon as the door was shut and he was alone with you, Tom deflated in his chair with a heavy sigh, rolling back just enough to see you again. “You’re always getting me in trouble.”

You were immediately rapidly bobbing your head and sucking, your eyes fixed on his, your hands leaving his thighs to pull your bra down just enough that when you lifted your arms again, the cups pushed up your bare breasts.

The constant stimulation the entire time you’d been between his legs had allowed a small amount of heat to build at the base of his spine, but you speeding up was fanning the flames of it, pulling him toward the edge. “Oh, fuck,” Tom groaned, sliding back a little more so you were able to scoot out from beneath the desk enough for him to thread his fingers into your hair.

You tapped your face, your chest, your throat, silently asking where he wanted to finish as you sucked harder.

His eyes rolled up again as he moaned, that heat coiling tight. “I want to cum down your throat.”

Nodding, you moaned around him. One hand slid between your thighs and pushed past your underwear, starting to rub your clit so the sound wouldn’t stop. The other reached into his boxers and stroked his balls, your eyes on his as you moved your head faster. The wet noise of him in your mouth filled the room.

“God, fuck, I’m close,” Tom groaned. The temperature in the room was hot, and he couldn’t keep his hips still as they reflexively thrusted with each movement you made.

You took him deep, lips around the base of his cock, swallowing around him before bobbing once more. Your tongue stroked over what it could reach as your gaze was fixed on his.

Tom was sent over the edge with a low moan, his back arching as he came down your throat. “Fuck, fuck, Y/N.”

You pulled your lips back far enough that it was easy to swallow his cum, licking and sucking, wide eyes watching his expression of ecstasy as you worked him through his orgasm.

With a heavy breath, he nudged you off his cock. “Good girl.”

You licked your lips clean, and sat up with your breasts on his thigh, panting softly. “Did that help, Mr Holland?”

“Yes, it did, Mrs Holland,” he answered, breathless. “I feel much better now, thank you.”

“Wonderful.” You kissed the still semi-hard cock. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

He started tucking himself away and buttoning his pants up, “You could convince me to leave early.”

“Hmm,” you mused. “…maybe if, if I’m… desperate enough to leave.”

“Oh? Well, I suppose I could just continue working for the next,” Tom checked his wristwatch, “Four hours. You know, instead of taking you home and fucking you into the kitchen table like I’m thinking of doing. But I guess that’s fine, too.”

You stood, the straps of your bra loose around your arms, your breasts still hanging free. “Persuade me.”

“Persuade you, hm?” One arm abruptly wrapped around the back of your thighs and pulled you against him to where you were between his legs, your lower half against his chest and his chin on your stomach as he looked up at you. “By making you desperate?”

“Mhmm,” you gasped.

“I suppose I could do that.” The tips of his fingers trailed up the backs of your thighs, grazing along the stockings while moving between your legs. “I could also fuck you bent over my desk, too.”

“Either works,” you whispered.

“Go lock the door this time.”

You were immediately slipping away to the door and locking it, checking it to make sure, before you came back to him, your hands behind your back.

Standing, Tom shrugged off his suit jacket and folded it in half, draping it over the back of his chair. His eyes turned to you once you were beside him, though he quickly moved some items on his desk before motioning to it. “Bend over, hands behind your back.”

Turning around, you leaned over it, spreading your thighs wide and grasping your wrists as you bit your lip. “Yes, Mr Holland.”

Tom stepped behind you, his palm pressing to your ass and pushing your dress up to your hips. Rather than removing your underwear, though, he yanked at the fabric, roughly pulling it to one side of your ass before his fingers rubbed along your folds.

Biting your lip, you moaned softly, trying not to be too loud. The walls weren’t particularly thick, and you didn’t want anyone else knowing what was going on.

“Think you can keep quiet?” he asked, one finger pushing into you.

“Mmm,” you groaned. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” Slowly thrusting his one finger a few times, a second was worked in after a moment, and he finally crooked them, seeking out your sweet spot.

The brief moments you’d been touching yourself, the time you had spent under his desk, you were already wet enough that both fingers just felt good. You swallowed your moans, soft panting filling the air, and your hips ground against his touch.

“You always get so damn wet just from sucking my cock,” Tom pointed out. “Why is that, hm?”

“I-I like b-being at, fuck, at, oh, your- your mercy!” you confessed breathlessly.

Twisting his wrist, both fingers pressed into that sensitive bundle of nerves and started rubbing just as he leaned over you, hovering, his free hand placed on the desk to hold him up. “Did you like almost getting caught?”

“N-not so much,” you gasped, your thighs trembling. “Oh, fuck.”

He kept the motions slow, gently massaging your sweet spot, almost teasing. “Think you might like Harrison joining us one day?”

Your brow furrowed for just a moment. “W-wait, would y-you, fuck!” You sucked in a breath, the wet noise of his fingers audible. “Y-you would- want that?”

There was a slight shrug, his head tilting toward his shoulder as he did. “With some rules, I might. But getting to see you helpless, desperate, writhing in pleasure,” Tom’s eyes dragged up and down your body, “Would be worth it.”

“R-rules?” you gasped.

“Mm,” he confirmed, pressing a bit more firmly against your sweet spot. “No coming in you, things like that.” The pads of his fingers heated up a little. “And we’d have to tell him.”

You keened softly, your thighs trembling “You mean you would tell him, or—fuck—should I?”

“We could do it together,” his fingers roughly ground against that sensitive bundle of nerves, “Call him in the next time you’re choking on my cock under the desk and ask him formally.”

The thought of being sandwiched between the two of them, fucked by both of them at the same time, made your whole body flood with heat. “FuckI’mgonnacum-!”

Pulling his fingers out, he clapped his hand down on your ass before standing up straight. Your body tensed up, trembling as you rode that edge, your breathing heavy and hard as you tried to keep your noises down.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Tom, god.”

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered even as he was unbuckling his belt.

“Take me home, right now,” you panted.

He paused. “I thought we were going to fuck here first?”

“I’m not gonna be able to… to keep quiet,” you whispered.

“Fuck,” he breathed, redoing his belt. “Alright, let me get my stuff. You drove here too?”

You nodded as you started pulling your underwear back in place, your body still burning hot from the denial. Fuck him and his clever fingers.

“… we can, uh, be in here… another day,” you whispered.

Tom grunted, then quickly started gathering some files together, putting them in a bag so he could take them home. He’d be leaving work early, but that was fine; there were no clients for the rest of the day, it only consisted of going over cases and paperwork. Once he had everything together, he pulled his suit jacket on and buttoned it, then grabbed his bag.

“Let’s go.”

Getting your clothes on, you made sure your makeup was intact, quickly reapplying some lipstick before you slid on your jacket. “Right this way, Mr Holland.”

“You’ll be the death of me,” Tom mumbled as you stepped out of his office, the door being locked behind him. And as you quickly passed the secretary, he let her know that he was leaving early, waving. “Goodnight, Jessica.”

“Night, Mr Holland.”

“Alright.” You were finally out of earshot. “Let’s get out of here so I can fuck you.”

The doors to the nearest elevator slid open, and Harrison stepped out. His eyes met theirs, lips quirking just a little.

“Mrs Holland, Tom,” he said, nodding toward them.

“Mr Osterfield,” you smiled politely, “pleasure to see you.”

“I’m heading home for the night, Harrison,” Tom told the other man rather than greeting him. “I’ve already told Jessica, she’s leaving in about an hour.”

“All right. You two have a good evening.” Harrison started walking away. “Oh, and, Tom?”

You were in the elevator, and Tom turned around almost impatiently. “What?”

“Don’t go flying without a license.” The blond man turned and strode away.

Confusion washed over Tom’s face as he stared at the back of Harrison’s head. “Don’t go—what? What does that even mean?”

Your eyes glanced down, and as the elevator door slid shut, you silently reached down and zipped his pants back up. “Safety first, pilot.”

Lips parted, he looked down at himself, then at you, repeating the action a couple times. “What? How does that even make sense?”

“Your fly is unzipped,” you pointed out. “Flying?”

Tom’s nose crinkled after a few seconds, the elevator door dinging as it opened back up. “You’re lucky I tolerate this nonsense,” he grumbled before stepping out.

You leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” he protested with a huff. “I’m a grown man, Y/N. Grown men don’t pout.”

Taking his hand, you kept walking with him through the lobby. “Whatever you say, sweetie.”

“Keep testing me and you won’t be coming for the next few days, darling,” Tom warned.

Despite the heat flooding your body, you grinned. “Well, you have a twenty minute drive in peace before we get home. Maybe you can, hmm, jet off to a more peaceful mindset.”

He let out a slow breath through his nose. “A week.”

You reached the doors outside. “See you when I get home, honey.”

“What you won’t see is an orgasm,” Tom told you in a low tone. “Which I’ll enjoy denying you.”

#tom holland smut #mob!tom holland smut #mob!tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine

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vendettaparker · 1 year

Text

The Art of Scraping Through: Chapter Three—Strange Perfections

Summary: You and Tom finally get a moment to yourselves, leading to a much needed calm. Though after a calm, always follows a storm.

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: swearing, angst, relationship drama, mentions of sex, typos

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You were thankful for Octavia in moments like this. Moments when you didn’t want to confront your problems, so you instead chose to distract yourself with something else—or in this case, someone else—instead. As promised, you and Tom took Octavia to get ice cream on the way home, and neither of you could get enough of her babblings about her day. She giggled and waved her hands around as she excitedly and animatedly told you about the games she played and the friends she made.

“And then at snack Miss Mabel gave us goldfish, that’s my favorite,” she exclaimed with a big smile on her face.

“Really?” you nodded, “We’ll have to buy you some then.” you smiled, wiping her mouth that was getting covered in sticky chocolate.

“How many kids were in your group?” Tom asked.

“A lot,” Octavia said, “now I have so many friends like you.”

“You probably have way more than me, kiddo,” Tom chuckled, ruffling her hair.

By the time you made it back to the house, it was time to have dinner and then get Octavia to bed. All to be done with silence between you and Tom, the only words coming from either of you were whenever Octavia prompted them. Harry eyed the two of you at the dinner table and he could tell something was off. Not wanting to be in the middle of whatever spat you and Tom had going on, he quickly excused himself to his room after the dishes were all in the dishwasher.

“Come on, O,” you walked into the living room, drying your hands with a dish rag as you spoke, “it’s time for bed.” It was well past her bedtime actually, but she kept both you and Tom distracted from each other, so neither of you enforced your previous rule of ‘In bed by eight’.

“Okay,” Octavia yawned, setting her dolls into their little bed inside her dollhouse before getting up and meeting you at the stairs, “tuck me in?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, following her up the stairs. She didn’t put up a fight over bedtime (she hardly ever did) this time because she was already so tired after such an exhausting day. You were thankful for that, not thinking you’d be able to handle a tantrum right now.

When you came back downstairs, Tom was busy on his laptop, answering emails with Bob’s Burgers, your favorite show, streaming in the background. You sat on the same couch as him but kept your distance. You curled in on yourself, feeling almost awkward as you watched the show before you.

Still, even after he closed his laptop and turned the lights off, Tom didn’t say a word to you. He just watched the show in silence alongside you. You watched his every move—the furrow in his brow, the clench of his jaw—and internalized it. Even just the slight twitch of his lips, as if he was itching to say something, made you feel attacked. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked quickly.

“Yes,” Tom answered honestly, not bothering to look away from the TV.

You didn’t say anything else for the rest of the episode. There were only ten minutes left and you’d seen this one hundreds of times surely, but for some reason, it felt like it went on for eternity, especially now that you had Tom’s anger weighing on your mind.

What would you even say? You understood why Tom was upset. It was quite simple really, and part of you even knew that you were in the wrong, but the other part of you still wanted to keep fighting. Just imagining talking to Tom about your past, fearing he wouldn’t understand why you did what you did, made you sick. Eventually, after what felt like hours of excruciating silence, you said the only thing you could think of.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, tears in your waterline threatening to fall.

Tom sighed, finally looking at you, at how small you seemed at that moment. This was probably the most vulnerable you’ve ever been with him so far, and yet all it was was a short apology and a few tears.

“(Y/N),” Tom reached over and placed his hand on your ankle, “I still love you, I just—” he shook his head, “I just want you to be able to talk to me. If you feel like you can’t talk to me about your past, then what are we doing? You have to…” Tom sighed, “trust me.”

“I do trust you, Tom.”

“You’ve said that before,” Tom pressed his lips into a thin line, “and if it were true then we wouldn’t be at odds right now.”

You knew he was right. This hadn’t been the first time Tom’s been frustrated with your communication, it’s just been the longest he’s taken to forgive you and the harshest he’s been with his anger.

“I’m just frustrated,” Tom said, getting up from his seat. “I’m gonna go get a pillow from our room and sleep on the couch tonight.”

“No, wait,” you grabbed Tom’s wrist, “please don’t.”

“I’m really tired, (Y/N),” Tom sighed, “let’s just go to bed.”

“I don’t want to go to bed fighting.”

“We don’t always get what we want,” Tom shrugged, pulling away from you and heading for the stairs.

Tom expected you to make your way up to bed as well. You were tired after the day and the next was just as busy, as your days always were, and it was already pushing midnight. He didn’t expect to find you still in the living room with your head in your hands, crying. He seldom saw you cry. He did a couple of weeks ago, but it seemed even then that you were unaware of the strong emotions you were feeling, maybe even fighting them off like you were so attuned to. But this time, you were fully accepting it. You let the tears fall freely as you tried to wipe them away, one after the other.

When you saw Tom watching you, you looked up at him with the most pitiful looked he’d ever seen. Your brows were furrows and your mouth was set in a deep frown, bottom lip quivering. It took a few tries to find your voice and when you did, it was unsure, as if you were telling a secret, and in a way you were.

“My brother got my parents killed three weeks after I turned eighteen,” you told Tom, leaning forward on your elbows against your thighs, “and when he…” you took a breath, “when he was taken into custody for the accident, I didn’t bail him out, even though I had the money to. So he didn’t get to go to their funeral, I wouldn’t let him.”

“Darling,” Tom dropped his pillow and blanket and sat next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and let you rest in his embrace.

“I don’t like talking about it because it makes me sad,” you sniffled, “and because I feel bad about what I did. I never forgave him before he died, and I—” you cut yourself off with a sob, “I feel worse because I don’t think I do. I can’t forgive him. He took something so important from me. My mom and dad were my whole world, Tom,” you looked up at him, “I loved them so much. I never wanted to go back home even after Chet go out of jail because it just hurt too bad. It still hurts so fucking much to even talk about…”

Tom took your in his and rubbed soothing circles on the back of it with his thumb, an assurance that he was listening, “When I came to New York, I went straight from audition to audition,” you explained, “and I liked it that way. I didn’t have time to be sad, and when I was acting then I wasn’t me. I got to be someone else who was better than I am. I got to be someone who handled things better than I ever could and who didn’t let all of this family drama crush her.”

“There is no one better than you, (Y/N),” Tom took your face in his hands and wiped your tears away, “and this isn’t some petty family drama—this is serious stuff. This is the kind of stuff I want you to be able to talk about, even if it makes you sad because the only way to move past all of it is to confront it.”

You pulled away with a shake of your head, “I sound so stupid,” you sniffled, “I hate sounding so…needy and broken.”

“No, no,” Tom pressed a kiss to your head, “you don’t sound like that at all. You sound like someone who’s held it all in for too long. I love you so much, and I would never hold any of that against you.”

“Can we just go to bed?” you asked in a small voice.

Tom nodded with a hum, “Do you want me to come up with you?”

You nodded against Tom’s shoulder and let him lead you up to your room, where he held you throughout the night.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“So you two made up?” Emily asked as the two of you drove to set after dropping Octavia off at daycare.

“I guess,” you shrugged, “but I don’t know. I still feel really bad and I feel like I just completely trauma dumped on him last night. I hate doing that.”

“You definitely didn’t,” Emily said, “he was literally begging you to be more open. Besides, it was actually traumatic what you went through and Tom kind of has a right to know.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “still, I just feel crummy today. Do we have time to get a coffee?”

“No, but I can drop you off and grab one,” Emily offered.

“Okay, that works,” you nodded, “also, messages? I’ve been awol for a day from my phone.”

“Right,” Emily pulled up her notes. She always kept a list of things she needed to relay back to you. “Filming ends this Friday and there’s a wrap party you and Tom already RSVPed to on Saturday night at Copacabana. There’s also a mini get-together at Lightbox that Brad is hosting, no need to RSVP, but you should probably let him know if you’re going or not. I left room for you to go if you want. I can watch Octavia that night, but not Saturday but I have a list of the babysitters that Brad recommends.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “continue.”

“Um, let’s see,” Emily scrolled through her phone, “you have a photoshoot on Sunday for Versace, their new collection of scarves, they sent you a package they also want you to post sometime this week, but I can get that done and scheduled for you. Monday you have time in the studio scheduled and then a meeting with Buzzfeed. They want to film a puppy interview with you connected to this next project. Then Tuesday you go to Cannes for the film festival. I have several designers that have reached out asking to dress you, let me know which one you want me to get back to—”

“Wait, you haven’t picked a designer yet?” you asked.

“No,” Emily looked up from her phone, “I wanted to leave it up to you.”

“Did you tell the director of the festival that I’d be attending?”

“Not yet, I figured you’d want to announce that with the designer you’d be wearing, but I did get the plane ticket already, so that’s all set up—”

“Cancel it,” you decided.

“What?”

“Cancel it. I can go next year and I went two years ago, it’s really not like I’m missing anything. Plus, it doesn't have any plus ones so I can’t take O, and I doubt she’d enjoy sitting there for hours on end anyways.”

“But—”

“What do I have scheduled for after I get back?”

“Um,” Emily scrolled further down in her notes, “let’s see. I have some meetings lined up but that’s pretty much it, then there’s some free space I’m working on getting filled, and then press begins.”

“Hm,” you thought for a moment, “how many of those meetings can be rescheduled or canceled?”

“Well, all of them I guess, but—”

“Okay, then reschedule the ones that have to be in person and change all the other ones to an email. I hate going to meetings that could’ve just been emails.”

“Okay,” Emily nodded, “but what about you? You’ll be free for the next three weeks then—”

“Exactly,” you smiled, “so then I can go to London with Tom. I’ve been dying to see his family again and they’ve been asking to meet O. It works better this way.”

You were pulling up to set as Emily began frantically tapping away at her phone, no doubt rearranging the schedule and making notes of who she needed to call to cancel and reschedule you with.

You dug into your purse for a couple of tens to hand Emily before you got out of the car. “Get me a venti caramel iced macchiato with almond milk and extra caramel drizzle, and get something for yourself too.”

“Okay,” Emily took the money before going back to her phone, “I’ll get to calling and rescheduling these for you. I’ll have the schedule done and updated by lunch.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

After last night Tom didn’t know what to think or feel. He left hours before you’d even gotten up to go for a run and clear his mind, and then the minute he got back, he hopped into the shower, avoiding any interaction with you. He and Harry were out the door as you got Octavia ready for daycare.

“I think (Y/N) is going through a lot right now,” Harrison said over the phone that was connected to the car as Tom and Harry drove to set. Harrison was Tom’s go-to for advice. Being his best mate ‘n all, Harrison always knew what to say and always only had Tom’s best interests at heart. “She’s shut down emotionally and that’s not an easy fix in someone.”

“I know,” Tom sighed, “and last night, I feel like I pushed her too far. I mean, I know I had a right to be angry and annoyed, but still, seeing her so upset—I didn’t mean to hurt her like that. I know she had some stuff that she didn’t want to talk about, but this is some next-level shit. Like, her family issues are so fucked up.”

“Well, maybe that’s actually what you two needed. That honesty time probably felt really freeing for her. Do you think she’d be interested in therapy?” Harrison suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” Tom mumbled, “but I don’t know. I don’t even wanna bring that up right now. She’s in a fragile place and she’s stressed with work so I just don’t think that would go over well. She seemed shut down this morning. I guess she might’ve just been tired, but I can't help but feel like I did something wrong. I mean, I was really fucking mad at her, but the second I saw her crying, I didn’t really care about my own feelings anymore. Now I just feel bad for being mad in the first place.”

“Tom,” Harrison sighed, “you’re allowed to be upset with someone, even the people you love. I think that the fact that her crying made you stop caring about your own emotions kind of goes to show how much you love her, but at the same time, validate your own feelings, mate. If you two can fight about something and still love each other just the same, then that’s something real. Maybe the therapy thing is something you could both use? ”

“Couples therapy? I don’t know… I’ve heard some really shitty things about that.”

“Just an idea, mate. You never know until you try it. My aunt and uncle almost got divorced until they gave a marriage counselor a go and no they’re going on forty years of marriage this March. I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them happier.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Haz,” Tom agreed, “It’s something to consider. I want to be with (Y/N) and I love her more than anything. I never want to see her hurt, but I need to feel loved too.”

“(Y/N) always puts on a brave face,” Harry added to the conversation, “it’s time she let her guard down. If you wanna ask her to marry you then—”

“Wait, you’re proposing?!” Harrison yelled, his voice booming through the speakers of the car, causing Harry to swerve and nearly knock out a fire hydrant.

“Fuck, div!” Tom cursed, as his hot coffee splashed onto his arm. He slapped Harry’s arm harshly.

“You didn’t tell him?” Harry asked, taking a breath to collect himself.

“No,” Tom said, “the only reason you know is because you’re a nosy fucker who found the ring.” He rolled his eyes, wiping up the hot coffee with some napkins he’d found in the glove box.

“You already have a ring?!” Harrison’s voice was heard again blasting through the car.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

All you had left was reshoots. Reshoots, touchups, and then promo shots, and you were done. Eight months of work finally to an end, and satisfactory work at that. Nothing felt better than hearing the director's final cut and the applause of the crew. Well, perhaps one thing felt better.

“Tom? Can we talk?”

You hadn’t really talked to Tom at all throughout the day, which was unusual. You had seen him of course, and you had been happy to, but you were also so busy between talking with Emily, taking calls, and working on your schedule. Tom didn’t know that though, so when you came up to him, almost hesitantly, asking to talk, after the uneasiness between the two of you, he could only expect the worst.

So he said, “Do we have to?”

“What?”

“Look, if this is about us or our relationship, I’d just rather not talk about it.”

“Oh,” you looked down and rubbed your arms. Tom winced at the way you physically seemed to curl into yourself.

“No, I mean—” Tom sighed and reached out for you, only for you to pull away, only minutely, “I just don’t want to make any rash decisions right now. I know we’re in a weird place, but I think we should just give it time.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, “I—I’m not breaking up with you…”

“You’re not?”

“No, I just wanted to tell you that I canceled my trip to Cannes and all the meetings after so I could go to London with you…” you paused and bit your lip, “if you’re okay with that, I mean,” you added.

“Darling,” Tom’s voice softened as did his eyes, “of course I’m okay with that. That’s all I could ever want.” He went to hug you, but you backed away before he could wrap his arms around you. You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed, clearly annoyed.

“I can’t believe you thought I was breaking up with you.”

“Darling, I really didn’t think that—” Tom tried, but you just sighed and waved your hand in dismissal.

“It’s fine,” you said.

“No, I just mean that—I mean, yes, I was worried when you asked if we could talk, but I’ve just been in this weird place lately and things between us have been weird, and I don’t know. I just got scared. I’m sorry,” Tom took your hands in his.

“I’m just kind of annoyed that you’d think I’d be so reckless. Like, why would I end such an important relationship over some trivial fights? I feel like a lot of this is miscommunication maybe, and it’s just upsetting that you think I’d drop you over something so dumb.”

“No, I don’t think that at all,” Tom said, “really, I think you’re the most planned out, organized person I know, like when it comes to your job—”

“But not when it comes to you?”

“No,” Tom shook his head, “I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, “can we just not make this into a fight?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line and nodded, “Yeah, that would probably be best. I have to go to my dressing room anyways,” you pointed your thumb behind you before walking away.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Octavia was just a simple, easy-going little girl. You had to hand it to Chet, as much as you hated him, he raised a perfect little angel. That was more than helpful with how the busy schedule you had her on. So when you had to pack things up and head to London, she was more than contented with helping you pick some outfits and toys for her to take.

“Remember last time we went on a plane ride?” you asked her as you held her little hand in yours in the car.

“Mhm,” she nodded, not looking up from her little stuffy, the same she’d carried around like an extension of herself since Tom got it for her.

“Remember how many people there were? That was pretty scary.”

“Yeah, I don’t like that,” Octavia said.

“So how about this time you let me hold you? Does that sound okay?”

“Can Tom hold me?” Octavia asked, looking up at you with bright eyes and a smile on her adorable little face.

She was nearly impossible to say no to. That’s the one flaw you found in this parenting thing you had going on—whenever she looked at you like you owned the world, it just made you want to give it all to her.

You playfully pouted, “you don’t want me to hold you?”

“Maybe next time,” she offered, “but you have to take turns.”

It seemed almost like Octavia was aware of her adorableness, she was always admonishing you whenever she thought you were hogging her away from the other people in your lives. She learned all about sharing and taking turns at daycare. She even recited the same motto you’d known since youth as if she were teaching you a very valuable lesson.“Sharing is caring.”

“You’re very right,” you smiled, ruffling her hair.

The airport would always be a place that gave you anxiety, especially now that you had a child to look out for. Although you and Tom walked as quickly as you could to your gate, it was impossible not to be seen or recognized. Even more so now that you had something that kept everyone on the edge of their seats.

It was almost comical how obsessed your fanbase could be. Keyword: almost. There were cute little instances where people would show their love and admiration for you by making fan edits or photo collages and tagging you in them. Back when you were young and fresh-faced into the scene of showbiz, you’d attempt to respond to as many as you could, but now, there were hundreds—thousands a day—you scarcely had the time. Then, there were instances—many instances—where people took their obsession too far.

It started on Twitter—as it usually does—when the paparazzi pictures of you and Tom at the airport with Octavia were posted. Then after that, any moment that you were outside of the house with Octavia seemed to get captured, even if you never saw the person who took the picture.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to get stopped in the street and asked for pictures, but you tried not to oblige whenever you had Octavia with you. Tom, however, could never say no to a fan. So Octavia ended up on his hip for a few shots that inevitably ended up on the internet for everyone to see.

Most people thought that you and Tom had adopted. Some thought that you’d taken your relationship to the next level, eloped, and adopted a little girl. That wasn’t that crazy of a theory. Reading some of the subreddits for it even made your heart melt, considering that everyone had held you and Tom's relationship in such high regard.

Then there were a few theorists who thought that Octavia was a baby of yours that you had kept secret and hidden for years. They noticed the little features that the two of you shared, and you had to admit that Octavia and you did bear quite a resemblance, but the timeline these people came up with was too messy to be taken seriously.

Then there were the people in between—this was a popular crowd—who assumed that you and Tom had gotten a surrogate. It meshed the two theories into one that made the most sense. You had to at least give these people credit, they were persistent in their need for answers.

So far, though, nobody had actually correctly discovered how Octavia came into your custody. How could they? The story was way more complex than what everyone seemed to speculate. Everyone seemed to think she was a product of true love between you and Tom and your undying devotion to one another, but in reality, her past and yours were much darker. Nobody about ever figured it out on their own though—not with the rose-colored lenses they wear.

Now, though, you could go as far as to say that maybe you hated your fans. At least, these ones, at moments like this.

“Tom! (Y/N)!” They screamed at the airport. How could they not be embarrassed for causing such a scene, you thought.

“Could we get a picture? Please?!”

“What’s your daughter’s name? How old is she?”

“Can you sign my movie poster?! It’s in my carry-on!”

“Can we get a picture with your daughter?”

It took everything in you to not turn around and yell at everyone to leave you the hell alone. You tried to keep your image clean and keep your fans happy, but this was too much.

“Tom,” you eyed him as you made it to security, making sure he had Octavia securely in his arms. He nodded in understanding and handed her over to you while he took his shoes and belt off.

“Are you okay, pretty girl?” you asked softly, pushing her hair from her face.

“Mhm,” Octavia nodded, “but I don’t wanna be held.” She began to squirm in your arms.

“Okay,” you chuckled, “but you still have to hold my hand, kid.”

Octavia was an easily contented child, so the seven-hour plane didn’t seem to bother her much, especially when Tom got some movies going for her.

“Are you sure your parents are okay watching her?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder. Octavia had her headphones on and her eyes glued to the screen in front of her as she sat next to you.

“They practically begged me,” Tom assured you.

“I just feel bad,” you sighed, “I feel like we kind of sprung this on them.”

“Maybe,” Tom said, “but O is the sweetest little girl, they’re going to love her. My mom’s thinking about making some cookies together and then taking her to Dock Beach.”

You and Tom decided to take an entire day and night to celebrate your anniversary, leaving Octavia in the very capable hands of his parents. It worked out well, considering Tom had told them all about Octavia and how she came into your care, his parents were surprised, but more than happy for you. They’d always wanted grandkids, and while you didn’t know how long it’d be until you were ready for kids on your own, you felt relieved knowing that Dom and Nikki would get the chance to get to know Octavia, who was much like your own daughter at this point.

“That sounds fun,” you smiled, “I think she’ll like that.”

“As for us,” Tom whispered in your ear, “I have a few surprises up my sleeve.” He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, taking his time to really savor the softness of your skin against his lips before pulling away.

“Do you now?” you hummed.

“Mhm,” Tom smirked, “we have a lot of time to make up for.”

“Ew,” Octavia covered her eyes after looking over at the two of you. She shoved her teddy bear which scarcely left her grip since she’d been gifted it, between your faces.

“You can have some too, silly girl,” you chuckled before attacking her with a barrage of kisses on her chubby little cheeks.

“(Y/N),” she giggled, scrunching her nose as she laughed. Tom couldn’t help but notice the same little tick you did whenever he tickled you.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Mom!” Sam called as he opened the door, carrying Octavia’s bags in his hand, “Tom and (Y/N) are here!”

When Octavia first met Sam, her little head tilted to the side as she looked up at him. “Harry?” she asked, confused since she swore Harry did not come on the flight with them.

“No,” Sam shook his head with a laugh, “I’m Sam.”

You bent down to Octavia’s level, crouching behind her as you explained, “Sam and Harry are twins, O. So they have the same birthday and they look very very similar.” Octavia nodded along as you spoke, “and Tom is their brother, but he doesn’t have the same birthday as them and he looks a little more different.”

“He’s tinier!” Octavia pointed out.

“Yes,” you giggled, “he is a little tinier.”

“By one inch!” Tom called from the driveway, where he was getting your bags, “and not everywhere!”

You shot Tom a look but were only met with his raised eyebrows and smirk. He always got a little cocky (no pun intended) when it came to his lack of height, but not so much so with length.

Nikki came barreling down the stairs as fast as she could before scooping you up into a hug, “(Y/N)! It’s so good to see you!” she cooed.

“Nikki,” you smiled, “I’ve missed you.”

She was much like the mother you lost, and to her, you were the daughter she never had but always wanted.

“Have you been eating enough, dear?” she pulled away and looked over your frame, “I have some leftover pork roast in the fridge I can heat up if your hungry? What about you, Tom?” she looked over at her oldest, who had Octavia’s hand in his as she hid behind his leg. “Oh, look at her,” Nikki cooed, her attention immediately averted, “she’s precious.”

Tom squeezed Octavia’s hand, “Hey, kiddo, come say hi.”

“It’s alright,” you nodded her along.

“Hi there,” Nikki crouched down, “I’m Nikki.” she held out her hand.

“You’re Tom’s mommy?” Octavia asked.

“Yes I am,” Nikki smiled, “and Sam and Harry’s too. I have another son named Paddy.”

“That’s a lot of kids. I like Tom,” Octavia nodded, giving a hand to Nikki.

Nikki laughed, “Yes, well he’s alright, but he was nowhere near as adorable as you. What’s your name?”

“O!” Octavia said with a smile.

“Octavia,” Tom explained, “but we call her O.”

“Okay, O,” Nikki took her hand, “well why don’t we go into the kitchen and get you something to eat, hm? I’m sure you’re hungry after such a long flight.” Octavia nodded and let Nikki lead her away. “Would you like something to drink, (Y/N)? I just got this amazing glass of chardonnay and I’ve been looking for an excuse to open it.”

“Sure,” you followed the two of them, “I’ll have a glass.”

“Oh, Tom,” Nikki turned back, “your dad is in his office, I don’t think he can hear much with that bloody door closed. Could you grab him?”

Tom nodded and walked off down the hall.

“So,” Nikki smiled as she poured you a glass of wine. Octavia was sitting cozily in your lap, munching away on some crisps, “how have you been? I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve last seen you.”

“Well, a lot has changed,” you chuckled, “but all for the better, right O?” Octavia nodded, mouth full of crumbs falling from her lips.

“A child as precious as her is a blessing,” Nikki smiled, “although, I am sorry to hear about your brother. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate—”

“Nikki, you’re too kind,” you shook your head, “just being here with you is enough. It’s nice to have a break every once in a while. I’m sure Tom is thrilled to be back in London.”

“I honestly didn’t think you were coming along,” Nikki said, “he told me you’d be in France.”

“I moved some things around, I really wanted to be here with you guys.”

“Are you two alright?” Nikki asked, “He seemed…well, he seemed a bit cross when I last spoke to him.”

You sighed and took a sip of your wine, “He probably was,” you admitted, “things have been really stressful lately, and I can admit, I haven’t been the most attentive to him.”

Nikki nodded along. “Well, he’s an adult. He doesn’t need attending to.”

You forced a small chuckle. “If only that were the case.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom kept his hand on your thigh as he drove. He always did, even as early on as your first date. It was a comfort for both of you. You loved feeling his finger gently drawing patterns on your skin, and he loved knowing you were near as he kept his eyes on the road.

On the ride home after your first date, Tom spent nearly twenty minutes debating if he was allowed to hold your hand as he drove. He worried about coming on too strong and making you uncomfortable. Finally, he mustered up the courage to reach out for your hand, but he failed to realize that your hand was no longer over your thigh. He played it off though, giving your thigh a squeeze as if that were always his intention. You looked over at him and smiled, placing your hand over his for the rest of the ride.

“Where’re you taking me?” You asked as Tom passed the restaurant you two frequented, your first guess of where you thought he planned to spend your anniversary dinner.

“It’s a surprise, love,” Tom smiled, “don’t you like surprises?”

“I’m coming around to them,” you joked, eyeing the car seat in the back of the car.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Tom asked, “Maybe we should give them a call.”

“We’ve only been on the road for ten minutes,” you pointed out, “I’m not sure how much trouble she could get into in ten minutes.”

“I have a list of things.”

“Tom,” you laughed, “she’s with your parents, don’t you trust them?”

“I do, I do,” Tom nodded, “but also I don’t.”

“Oh God,” you rolled your eyes, taking the hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze.

Tom ended up reserving a room in a restaurant along the River Thames. It was a gorgeous place with vines hanging from the ceiling and beautiful chandeliers lighting every room. For dinner, he had the chef prepare a four-course meal, and the only instruction he gave him was the ring to put in your dessert.

“Tom, this place is gorgeous,” you beamed up at the atmosphere of the restaurant as you sat down.

Tom smiled, “Yeah, it’s my parent's favorite. They always have their anniversaries here. They actually had their wedding reception in this room.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, and they always come back here. It’s kind of a family thing now. I think Sam wanted to be a chef here at one point.”

“He could,” you nodded, “he’s so talented.”

The waiter came by with a bottle of wine, holding it out for Tom. “Mr. Holland, this is our Joesph Phelps Napa Valley Red Blend,” he said as he poured a glass for Tom, “it’s silky with notes of fruit and flora, it also has smooth tannins and a long finish. Chef Jamie recommends it to pair with your first course and entree.”

Tom took a sip and held it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. He nodded and motioned for the waiter to pour you a glass. “That’s lovely, thank you.”

“Of course, sir. Your first course should be out shortly.”

You took a sip of the wine and your eyes go wide. “Holy shit,” you have another sip, “that’s fucking spectacular.”

“I know!” Tom smiled, “It took everything in me not to moan.”

You laughed. “Well don’t hold back on my account.”

“I never do,” Tom chuckled.

The first course was a cheese tray, prepared specially by the chef. It had the most expensive cheeses the restaurant had to offer, as well as some imported from France, purely for the occasion.

The next course was a soup, it seemed to be some sort of lemon tortellini with dill and spinach, as well as a creamy base. “This,” you motioned down to your bowl, “is heavenly. It’s like Jesus cum—”

“What?” Tom choked on his noodle.

“You know,” you smiled, trying to hold back your laughter, “like if Jesus came, this is what it would taste like…”

Tom laughed out loud at that, happy to hear your strange sense of humor after weeks of stressful work and filming. “You can’t possibly be that drunk right now,” he laughed, “we’re only on the second course!”

“You know wine goes straight to my head,” you said as you finish off your glass. For the second course, it was a white sauv blanc. You couldn’t remember the name for the life of you, but it paired amazingly with the soup

“I can tell, darling. Your face is beet red.”

“It is?” you held a hand up to your cheek, feeling how warm your skin had gotten; it was scorching, “Oh gosh, I must look so silly right now.”

“No, no,” Tom took your hand in his, “you look absolutely gorgeous, love.”

“Stop it,” you pulled your hand away, “this restaurant is too nice to get all horny in.”

Tom gasped, “Are you accusing me of trying to seduce you?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I’m accusing you of succeeding to seduce me.”

“We should wrap up these next few courses then,” Tom suggested with a smirk, “they might be too hard to get through.”

You shook your head, attempting to fight the smile making its way onto your face.

The next course was your entree. A rack of lamb braised with a pesto-lemon sauce, over a dollop of garlic mashed potatoes.

“Oh fuck me,” you moaned after taking a bit of the lamb. It was dripping juice as it practically melted on your tongue.

“I intend to,” Tom smirked.

“Shush, I’m talking to the lamb,” you say with your mouth full, hand placed gently over your lips.

“Oi, fuck you,” Tom laughed.

“Thought you intended to?” You said with a raised brow.

“Bloody hell, I forgot what an insufferable drunk you are.”

“I am not drunk,” you gasped, feigning offense, “I don’t get drunk, I just have fun.”

“You can’t Linda Belcher your way out of this one,” Tom laughed.

“Hmph, just watch me,” you said, taking the last sip from your glass and holding it up to be filled again.

After your main course was cleared, Tom was on the edge of his seat. He’d already had three glasses of wine and was debating a fourth. He knew once the dessert came out, then there’d be no more second guessing—no more turing back or taking back his words. Once your dessert was placed in front of you, the question that had been weighing on his mind would finally be out there, staring you down.

He knew the future scared you—maybe even a little more than the past—hell, it scared him too. But he also knew that these moments were precious. Watching you relax all night, seeing your wheezing laugh again, he couldn’t help but fall in love all over again. He knew that, while the future may scare him, it would be much scarier to face without you by his side.

“Tom?” You reached out and placed a hand on his, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Tom smiled, “I’m perfect.” He took your hand and placed a kiss on it, right on your ring finger, “I love you so much, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Tom,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “more than anything.”

Tom could see out of the corner of his eye the waiter coming down the hall with the desserts. He played with your fingers, imagining the diamond ring he bought right on that ring finger. “(Y/N),” he said, looking up into your eyes, “you know I would do anything for you, right? I-I love you so much—I swear, I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Tom,” you smiled, “where’s all of this coming from?”

“I never want to be a part from you,” Tom said honestly, “even when we’re thousands of miles away from each other, I like knowing deep down that you’re mine.”

“Tom—” you were interrupted when your dessert was placed in front of you. You turned to the waiter with a sweet smile, completely ignoring the words written in chocolate sauce in front of you, “thank you,” you smiled brightly before he walked off.

“(Y/N),” Tom pulled your attention back—to him though, not the dessert in front of you.

“Hey, where’s yours?” You finally looked down. The hand holding Tom’s went limp as your read his question.

It was a chocolate mousse cake, your favorite dessert when made correctly, and this one looked heavenly. It was topped with a strawberry and coated in cocoa powder. The wording below, written in chocolate sauce read, “Marry me?”, simple and beautiful. The ring was placed daintily at the end of the ‘Y’, where it twisted and curled.

“(Y/N),” Tom’s eyes were filled with tears as it seemed to take forever for you to read those two simple words, “I have loved you ever since I’ve known you, and I will love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

“Tom…” you looked up at him, tears in your eyes, glistening on the edge of your lower lid, “I—I think this sobered me up.”

Tom laughed, a watery hearty chuckle, “I figured it would,” he said.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you said, tears falling down your cheeks. “Tom, this is—”

“Too much?” Tom frowned, seeing the doubt in your eyes.

“Too soon,” you clarified, taking his hand in yours as his face fell. “Tom, I love you, and I want nothing more than to be your wife, truly. But, we’ve only just begun. I have no doubt in my mind that you’re my soulmate and that we’re meant to be, but I’m not ready to settle down just yet.”

Tom released a shaky breath and wiped his eyes before the tears could fall. “Then when?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

“When, (Y/N)?” he looked up at you with disappointment in his eyes. “Because as much as I love you, I can’t wait forever.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

When you were six and Chet was eight, there was a girl that lived three houses down from you. Her name was Tammy, she was ten.

Tammy was always bigger than you, always stronger than you, and in her words, smarter than you. The three of you would play in the cul-de-sac together, riding your bikes and chasing one another. It was no surprise when one day, Tammy declared that she loved Chet.

Despite her harassment, Chet seemed infatuated with her as well. This wasn’t to say that he didn’t tell her off, because boy, could he tell her off. He’d call her a priss and a brat whenever she’d pull your hair. He’d promise to stop playing with her if she kept it up. And over time, what used to be hatred between the two of you, became silent distaste—all to keep Chet by her side.

When high school came around, it was Tammy that introduce Chet to drugs. Whatever she could bum off her uncle was free game for them. Molly, edibles, shrooms, LSD, acid—whatever she could get her hands on, she’d offer to Chet first. Her crush never ended.

So maybe, part of you did blame Tammy for the events that took place your senior year. Maybe Tammy should’ve taken all the blame, but at the end of the day, Chet had a choice. And as much as you loved Octavia, she was a product of his choices. She was Tammy’s daughter.

When you looked at her, you would’ve never known. Nothing from Tammy came through. Not her dirty blonde hair or her split ends. Not her crooked teeth or freckles. It was all Chet. His dark hair, his brown eyes, his tan skin. It made it easy to look at her and forget her other half—the rotten half.

But as much as you try to run from the past, you can’t escape it. A lesson you and Tammy both would have to learn.

Salt Lake City, Utah. That’s where Tammy found herself. Working as a waitress at a Mom and Pop diner called Eddies. That’s where the tabloid with your face plastered on the front, along with her daughter’s, made its way into her hands.

“What’s this?” She said, recognizing you instantly. The customer at the counter flipped the page over so she could see.

“(Y/N) had a baby, I guess,” he said, “Shame though, kids are a lot of work. I hope her Victoria's Secret Christmas ad still comes out this year.”

Tammy scoffed, “Who’d wanna see that tramp on a VS ad?”

“Lots of people, myself included,” the man chuckled.

Tammy could never escape you it seemed.

When she was little, she envied you for the mere fact that you had Chet. You were the closest person to him. He defended you no matter what. Now at twenty-nine, she still wanted what you had. Money, fame, talent, recognition—you were always thrown in her face one way or another.

It was the driving force that finally separated her from Chet. Chet was working at a construction company,—a low-level job that only paid enough to keep a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. Tammy wanted more. She wanted another chance. So she left—went to Malibu, then Cancun, then Florida. Each place she went, she blew her cash so fast that she had no other choice but to start again. And each place she went just bored her more than the last.

She studied the tabloid. She inspected your expression, coming right out of the airport with Octavia on your hip. She squinted her eyes, noticing something on the child’s neck. And there, right before her, the same one she sported on her neck, was a birthmark. A small tan spot, no bigger than a nickel.

It was then that Tammy knew how to get her recognition.

And with that, get her daughter back.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A/N: wow. so so sorry this took so long to get out. i really do love this series so much and i am extremely determined to finish it. i took a hiatus when i moved states from my hometown and now that i’m back home, i feel better than ever. i’m not sure how much you guys know about my move, but long story short, it didn’t go as planned at all. now that i’m back home, i’m focusing a lot on myself and the thing i love to do; which include writing for you guys. please please please share your thoughts and feelings on this chapter—it’s my favorite so far :)

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland series #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #peter parker smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland x you

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alltoowelltom · 1 year

Note

Please please pls since it’s the holidays can you write some dad!tom where they take their baby to meet Santa and how they react 🥺🥺 my sister just recently took her baby to get photos with Santa and omg did it melt my heart and make me giggle

You follow the worker dressed as an elf thorough a wonderland of trees covered in fake snow, Miles safe in Tom's arms as they oooed and aahed at the glowing lights strung up between the path. The worker opens up a door and you all step into a red little room. Miles gasps at the sight of Santa sitting on a large sleigh, surrounded by beautifully wrapped gifts and 'elves'. A photographer set up in front waits patiently.

"Look who it is, honey!" you say excitedly, leaning towards Miles and pointing at Santa. Miles opens his little mouth wide, blinking at the sight. He's relatively familiar with who Santa is, having watched a few Christmas movies with you and Tom earlier on in the month.

"Do you want to sit on his lap?" Tom asks, bringing Miles over to the sleigh.

"And have you been a good boy this year?" Santa asks and Miles jumps slightly at his booming voice. He's used to his own quiet home with just you, Tom and Tessa.

Tom places Miles in Santa's waiting arms and steps back, grinning at how tiny his soon looks in comparison. The photographer lines up the shot, but before he can take it Miles whines, bringing one fist up to his eyes and beginning to cry.

"What's the matter, little one?" Santa asks, looking to you and Tom for help.

"Dada!" Miles whines.

"He doesn't like being away from Tom," you explain, gesturing to your husband.

Miles continues to whine, reaching out for Tom.

"Tom, you have to go sit with him." you say, pushing him forward.

"What?" Tom laughs. "I think I'm a bit big for that, love."

"You have to go too or we won't get the picture." you insist. "It's not a big deal, it'll be two seconds."

Tom rolls his eyes. "Fuck me," he complains, nodding at Santa apologetically as he crouches down into a half seated position, hovering in the air just above Santa's other knee. Miles immediately grins, knowing he's safe now his dad is close by.

The photographer hides her smile, snapping the photo and handing it to you in a little red booklet. You thank her, opening it up and your heart swelling at the photo of your two boys, sitting together on Santa's lap. You'd definitely be making copies of this one for the whole family.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡

ty for reading, please reblog if you enjoyed as it really helps a writer out <3

sorry for the wait on this one, i've been absolutely swamped with work but it was sooo cute i just had to write on my break

#dad!tom #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland smau #tom holland angst

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stylesharrys · 7 months

Text

Pranked

A/N: I haven’t written for Peter in the longest time, this also used to be a patron exclusive fic but since I no longer write for tom/Peter over there, I figured you guys could have it!

WC: 1,990

“I’m sorry they did that to you,” he whispers. “It’s not cool. Cassy and her little penguins are just raging bitches. They’re jealous of you, you know? That’s why the dared Jack… they’re jealous, so they try to humiliate you.”

You scoff into him, pulling back to wipe your eyes and get a look at him. His thin lips are gently pulled into a line, eyes bubbling over with sincerity and concern. You wipe your face and sniffle.

“They’re not jealous of me,” you shake your head. “There’s nothing for them to be jealous of.”

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff this time, his head shaking at your words. He reaches closer to brush the matted hair from your tear-stained face and strains a smile.

You get pranked and Peter picks up the pieces.

Your palms are sweating and you’re struggling to keep your breathing even. This can’t be happening, not again, not now. Everything is white noise as you blink at the boy before you.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think we’d end up hitting it off like we did, and I felt awful. I had to tell you. I’m sorry, really.”

His words are muffled through the ringing in your ear and the music blaring through the house, but you still hear them. You can’t take your eyes off him; you’re completely frozen.

Jack scratches the back of his head nervously, eyeing you with regret. “Y/N, I really do like you, you’re a cool chick. But I can’t string you along anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the dare, and I’ll make sure Cassy and her minions don’t say anything either.”

It was a dare. A fucking dare. Three of your so-called friends dared Jack to take you on dates, and make you believe he liked you. They fucking humiliated you.

You nod your head, bleakly. You should be used to this shit. You’d just hoped for once; you’d found friends that actually cared about you. That would support you and do what friends do.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Really should’ve seen that coming,” you laugh out bitterly to yourself.

You’re willing back tears the best that you can; chest right and throat closing. You can’t cry in front of him; you can’t let the situation humiliate you any more than it already has.

Now he pities you, and he will always remember you to be the girl he was dared to date. The girl that no boy would ever actually like off his own back. The girl with no friends. The girl that fell for a prank.

You huff out a laugh. “At least I made a friend decent enough to tell me the truth, right?” He smiles weakly and offers a simple nod of his head.

Jack isn’t a bad guy, not really. Even after pulling such a shitty stunt, you can’t bring yourself to hate him. You stand, wondering if anything he said to you was ever genuine.

You say nothing else when you finally look away from him. Your feet carry you through the crowds of the party when you finally let the tears slip.

You’re left questioning everything; everything Cassy and her friends ever said to you, every nice comment that’s ever been tossed your way since. You feel like the fucking laughing stock like the party was thrown for everyone to take turns in humiliating you.

Breaking away from everyone else, you stumble your way outside. It’s quieter out there, strings of fairy lights tangled in trees that illuminate the path you follow. It’s secluded to the frat house's left, the furthest area away from the pool, and therefore other partygoers.

You sit at the edge of a sun lounger, vision blurred through pools of tears that well in your eyes. And you finally let them fall. There’s an aching in your chest that tears you from the inside out. A feeling of heartache so strong that you feel it in your fingertips.

You don’t understand. Why is everyone so out to get you? Why do people take pleasure in your pain? Why aren’t you good enough for anyone? What do you have to change about yourself to make people like you?

“Y/N?” A gentle voice coos through your thoughts.

Your head snaps up at the sound of your name, face blotchy with tears that you make a quick attempt to wipe away. You sniffle, plastering on a gentle smile in greeting.

In the soft moonlight, Peter Parker stands above you, concern swimming in his eyes. You know Peter, you’ve known him for a long time. And when your eyes meet him, you find yourself crumbling again.

Peter has always been the only genuine friend in your life. You’ve known him for ten years, and at twenty, he’s still just as lovely and kind as he was in high school. He hasn’t turned into some college douche like so many of your other classmates.

He has gotten hotter, though. Puberty smacked him twice, and he’s no longer a scrawny boy anymore. He’s still got the same soft brown eyes and messy locks on his head, but he’s beefed out in a little weight and muscle, and he’s gotten a little taller.

Yet with all that, he’s barely got any better at talking to girls he likes. The thought hurts you when you remember how easily he’s always spoken to you. Just another reminder that not even Peter would like you.

Peter notices the tears in your eyes and steps closer, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks around to see if anyone knows what’s going on.

“Are you okay?” He asks. “What’s wrong? What happened to you?”

You only cry harder at the kindness of his tone. He’s always been such a good person — a little aloof and geeky, sure, but kind and funny. Genuine. He’s always been himself.

“Was it Jack?” He finally asks, shuffling as to sit beside you on the lounger. He’s seen the both of you around campus a lot recently, and while you guys are friends, he’s not hurt that you didn’t tell him you had a boyfriend.

You’re friends, sure, but you don’t sit and talk as often as you probably should.

You sniffle, shrugging a shoulder. You don’t know if he’s more to blame or Cassy and her friends are.

“It was all a prank. Cassy and her minions dared Jack to ask me out. He just told me the truth.”

There’s a beat of silence as Peter takes in your broken words. It hurts him, to see you so upset and defeat.

He’s always thought you were wonderful. Pretty, funny, kind and smart. He’s been one to admire you from afar, one that’s always listened intently whenever you spoke, one that included you in conversation and gone out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable.

And you’ve always noticed the little things that Peter does for you. You’ve always noticed because no one else ever does them. Even if you do it for everyone you meet.

“Oh, Y/N... I’m so sorry.”

You sniffle again, nodding as you bow your head. You feel shameful, absolutely mortified to have admitted that aloud to Peter. And yet, you can’t seem to stop yourself from saying more.

“I just don’t get why everyone feels the need to use me for something. No one ever wants to be my friend. No one ever means anything that they say to me. Pete, why am I such a joke to everyone? Why does everyone play me?”

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his chest. You let him, of course, you do. Despite holding hands with Jack and kissing him a couple of times, this is the most physical touch you’ve experienced in years.

It only makes you cry harder.

You wrap your arms around Peter’s middle as you nuzzle your face into his neck. A hand finds the back of your head, gentle coos slipping past his lips and into your ear. His embrace is warm, safe. You feel a weight lift from your shoulders just from being in Peter’s calming presence.

“I’m sorry they did that to you,” he whispers. “It’s not cool. Cassy and her little penguins are just raging bitches. They’re jealous of you, you know? That’s why they dared Jack… they’re jealous, so they try to humiliate you.”

You scoff into him, pulling back to wipe your eyes and get a look at him. His thin lips are gently pulled into a line, eyes bubbling over with sincerity and concern. You wipe your face and sniffle.

“They’re not jealous of me,” you shake your head. “There’s nothing for them to be jealous of.”

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff this time, his head shaking at your words. He reaches closer to brush the matted hair from your tear-stained face and strains a smile.

“Are you kidding? You’ve got so much that they don’t: a personality, for example. You’re kind, funny, caring… pretty. You’re too cool for them, and they know it.”

His kind tone has warmth rising to your cheeks as you bite back a thankful smile. You don’t know how Peter does it, how he’s the warmth of the sun that dries the ground after it rains. You think he’s far too good, too precious for this world.

You meet his warm gaze, eyes a little puffy, but he doesn’t mention them — even though he finds it absolutely adorable. There’s a swell of pride in his chest at the fact he got to make you smile when you felt so bad.

“And not everyone would play you, you know. Some uh… some people are genuine, and might wanna take you out because they might’ve had a little crush on you for a while, but been too scared to admit it…”

Blinking, you notice the pink on his cheeks, the rosy hue that isn’t from the alcohol. You realise quickly who he’s referring to, and warmth begins to rise to your skin, flames burning from the inside out. Your chest feels tight and heavy, but not in the anxious way it typically has done.

No, this feeling is comforting, exciting. It’s the feeling of realising how stupid you’ve been, how the one boy you’ve always admired from afar has always felt the same for you.

“Yeah?”

You don’t feel worried that this may be part two of Cassy’s plot. Because it’s Pete, and you know Pete. You know how kind and compassionate he is, how thoughtful and respectful. You nearly choke on your spit. This gorgeous boy that everyone slowly started to pine after wants you.

He nods, sheepishly, and then it’s like something flickers in his memory. Peter straightens himself out, a giddy smirk on his face and you watch as he builds his confidence up in quick haste.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “So, do you wanna come back inside… with me and - and my friends?”

You’re nodding before he can finish his sentence, and a smile beams its way across Peter’s face. He stands from the chair, teeth tugging his bottom lip into his mouth as he extends a hand for you to take.

Standing before him, you toy with his fingers, a smile of your own on your lips. “You know, I have a crush on you, too.”

Peters brows raise to his hairline, eyes wide. To him, this day couldn’t get any better. He’s buzzing, trying to fight the need to sprint around the house five times and jump in the pool.

He swallows thickly. “You uh, you do?”

“Yeah. I have done since we were fifteen. But you always liked Liz.”

Peter blinks, can’t quite believe his ears. There’s no way you’ve had a crush on him for almost four years and didn’t say anything to him. How did he not realise? How did he not pick up your change in attitude whenever he was around you?

“I didn’t know you liked me back then…”

You shrug, your smile not faltering. “I know,” you say. “But, you know now.”

There’s a moment of silence, like neither of you can believe how easy this is — how this could’ve been years ago. Peter clears his throat, squeezing your hand.

“So… if I asked you on a date?”

“I’d say yes.”

Another moment of silence.

“And… if I uh, if I told you that I really wanted to kiss you…”

Leaning up on your tiptoes slowly, you pucker your lips gently to press a soft kiss to Peter’s mouth. His eyes flutter closed, hands leaving yours to rest on your waist and pull you closer.

“I’d say yes.”

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darling2411 · 2 years

Text

A different ride

paring : Tom Holland x reader

summary: You and Tom spent the day together outside in London.

warnings: smut ( oral f receiving, unprotected sex[ don’t be silly wrap your Willy],public sex, kissing), swearing ,guess that’s about it.

word count: 2.7k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Let’s do something”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, I just want to do something fun. We’ve been in the apartment all this time.” You whined.

“We’ll it has been raining the past two days, what were we supposed to do, love ?”

“Yeah I know that,” you rolled your eyes,” but now we can do something. Like go for a really long walk or visit the market or have breakfasts in a cafe!” You exclaimed utterly excited about the fact that it had finally stopped raining.

Tom admired the look on your face when you were talking about something with such zeal and enthusiasm that you appeared to be shining. "We can do all of these," he replied, chuckling.

He then came up behind you, threw his arms around your waist, pulled you to his chest, and softly kissed your hair.

Your heart fluttered and your mouth stretched into a love-filled smile at the simple act of affection.

"Let's get dressed then," you exclaimed cheerfully.

"I think I have something else in mind for us to do prior," Tom said, a devilish grin on his face as he grabbed your waist and tossed you over his shoulder.

You were sitting in bed, waiting for Tom to finish getting ready in the bathroom.

The occupation of the last hours got you two a little sweaty and after freshening up you were ready to go out and savour the nice weather.

Tom’s hand intertwined with yours. You you were walking trough a nearby park and stopping every now and then to just sit down on a bench and enjoy the beauty of the day.

There weren’t many words spoken.There wasn’t the need for it. You just savoured the closeness to your partner, the feeling of your hand perfectly fitting into his and the slight warm breeze of the wind announcing that spring was coming soon.

Tom followed every single movement of yours with his eyes, noticing the smile that erupted on your face when you saw a little kid gifting it’s mother a snowdrop, the love in your eyes when your gaze finally shifted back to him and he leaned in to kiss you softly. His hand caressed your cheek lovingly and when he pulled away to look at you smiling, you couldn’t help yourself and had to dive back in for another kiss. This time with more passion.

Tom breathed a little heavy when you eventually mustered up the will to break the love filled kiss.

After some seconds your boyfriend stood up and grabbed your hand to pull you up to him.

“What do you want to do next?” he asked you.

You didn’t need to think about it for too long before you replied giddily “let’s go to this sweet little cafe I told you about” Tom looked at you questioning “ the one with the delicious cupcakes and that is owned by the sweet old lady” you reminded him of what you had told him weeks ago when you found the beautiful shop.

Frowning Tom tried to remember you telling him about this place.

“Doesn’t matter if you remember baby, but I’m really hungry so let’s go?”

Nodding the two of you begun walking to the café not far from the park.

The little bell at the top of the door announced yours and Toms entry and the temperature difference caused his glasses to steam up.

While it felt warm and cozy inside the shop, it was still cold and brisk outside.

The air in the cafe smelled like vanilla,roses and cinnamon. A weird but oddly nice combination.

With taking a deep breath of the sweet air you pulled Tom with you to the shelves that displayed all the types of cupcakes, muffins and cakes you could buy here.

“Hello loves, what can I get you today?”

Tom greeted the lady and held friendly small talk with her while you were salivating over the delicious looking pastries.

“Something you want, darling?”

“If I could, I would try everything. These all look and smell like heaven.” You sighed.

“Oh thank you dear.” The sweet women tapped her cheek in thought, ”Why don’t you two sweethearts go sit over there and I select and bring you some of my baked goods?” The lady, Mathilda, suggested.

“That would be great, Thank you.” Tom said and you gave her a sweet smile. The two of you walked to a nice table a little more in the back of the shop.

Not long after you made yourself comfortable, Mathilda made her way towards you a tablet full with pastries in her hands.

“Here you go lovebirds. I hope you like ‘em.”

“I’m positive that we will.” You replied smiling.

As soon as she left the pair of you, each of you grabbed some of the baked goods. The first bite had you moaning” omg this taste so good.” You closed you eyes enjoying the different flavours.

“Not as good as you though,darling” Tom said winking at you and a blush coated your cheeks.

Images of Toms hands roaming your body and settling to spread your legs for him while leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth popped up in your head.

A position you were in a few hours ago.

“You okay love?” He asked with faked innocence.

“Yeah, ahem just a little hot.” You couldn’t get the image of him hovering over you out of your mind.

His scent like jasmine, musk and men, was filling your nostrils and made you all dizzy. His smirk told you that he know exactly what he was doing to you.

Tom’s eyes twinkled with mischief when he suggested “ let’s savour the afternoon hours in here with some nice tea and then go out to enjoy the evening and see London by night from above. It’s really beautiful to see London in the dark I promise.”

“Form above?” You asked clueless.

“Yup, the London eye offer’s a great view of London.”

“That sound incredible.” You answered happily and played perfectly into his cards.

„Perfect“

Tom ordered tea for you and you two enjoyed the presence of each other, the hot liquid warming you from the inside and the sweet atmosphere in the shop.

“So lovebirds, how long have you cuties been together?” Mathilda asked when she unexpectedly sat down besides you.

Tom immediately smiled and told her proudly that in a few weeks you would be a couple for three years . You looked over to him lovingly and were met with his eyes full of love and adoration for you and only you.

“And we are planning on taking a trip together to celebrate this.” He added.

“And where do you want to go?” Mathilda asked curiously.

“We thought about Italy, precisely Verona.” You responded smiling.

“Oh! How wonderful the city from Romeo and Juliet. How beautiful.” The sweet old lady exclaimed exited.

“Yeah, only that our love story won’t have a tragic ending.” Tom said and gave you a kiss to the forehead what made you smile more and your heart fluttered.

“Well, sweethearts, I need to go. Those muffins don’t bake themselves,” she laughed and stood up” I hoped everything was to your satisfaction and that I see you two here again.” With that Mathilda turned her back to you and Tom and left for the kitchen.

You faced Tom and asked ”Shall we go too?”

“Yeah I think it’s time, we should come back sometime soon though.” You agreed and got up.

Toms hand intertwined with yours the two of you made your way to the front, paid, gave Mathilda a tip and then walked out of the shop and into the fresh air of a cool London night.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As Tom said you were going to the London eye.

There was a long line and you groaned at the idea of waiting in that line, but Tom didn’t stop. He skipped the line. You raised a brow at him in confusion but he just smiled.

The security guards let you in without any issues only asking Tom for an autograph.

He smiled kindly and asked them what to sign.

The guard, who now had the autograph of Tom Holland on his shirt, guided the two of you to the next empty capsule.

Tom followed you inside and placed his body behind yours, hugging your waist, his chin on your shoulder while you looked out taking in the beautiful view.

“Did I promise to much?”

“Gosh no, this is amazing.” You said with a big grin and turned around to face him.

Your bodies were pressed against each other’s, your breath mingled with his, his eyes fixated on you.

The proximity made you shiver.

You leaned in to kiss Tom, thanking him for the beautiful day you had and were still having. When you wanted to pull away though he stopped you with a hand on you neck. He pressed his lips against yours with more force, more passion. His tongue darted out to lick your lip silently asking you to open your mouth. You invited him in and he depended the kiss immediately. Toms hands begun to wander. Sliding from your waist to you backside and you lower back giving it a good squeeze. You moaned into the kiss. When you had to pull away to breath, Tom went to your neck, skittering your skin in kisses, sucking and nipping on different spots he knew were gonna drive you crazy. Your hands,that had gone into his hair at some point, were now sliding down his chest, you stopped at his waist and pulled him back in by his belt loops. He chuckled but didn’t stop you. Your action secretly turned him on, a lot.

Then Tom was kissing you breathless again, you were aroused, the wet patch in your panties proof of that.

“Tom” you said breathing hard,”We have to stop”

“No we don’t, darling.” His answer was muffled due to his face in your neck, lips pressed to you skin, making you whimper.

You could feel him smiling against your skin, he loved how you reacted to him.

“I wanna devour you,love.” You gasped.

“In here? Are you insane?” He chuckled and came face to face with you.

“Only crazy for you darling.” You rolled you eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile that was creeping onto your face.

“Come on. Sit on the handrail, baby.”

“But what if someone sees?” You mentioned worried.

“No one will see. I asked for privacy. The cameras are turned off in our capsule and the people in the capsule before ours are occupied with the view. And as you can see no one is in the one behind us.”

You looked to your left seeing that in fact the capsule behind yours was empty.

“I can’t believe this” Tom smirked and winked at you before saying “Love we both know this gets you going. We both know that your little heart is beating so hard right know just at the thought that maybe we could get caught. And as for me I’ve been longing for you the whole day, this morning just wasn’t enough.” Your face heated up in a heavy blush and you bit your lip warily before sighing and sitting on the rail.

“Good girl.” Tom murmured his hands on your thighs parting them for him while he sank on his knees for you. You glanced to the occupied capsule and noticed that they were more interested in the lights of London than what was happening in the other capsules.

Tom used the time you were distracted to get rid of your panties, the sensation of his tongue on you made you gasp, it had been unexpected. Tom moaned at your taste. “God you taste like heaven.” Your hands wandered to his hair tugging on its roots making him groan into you, the vibration drew a whimper from you in return.

While one of your boyfriends hands was busy holding your thighs apart the other went to join his tongue. He traced figure eights around your clit,ever so often lightly pressing down, building up your orgasm torturing slow. “Mmh Tom. Please.” You moaned. “What is it love?”

“Please I need more.” You begged.

“As you wish”

His tongue and finger swapped places, his finger now pumping into you furiously and his tongue stimulated your bundle of nerves.

The moans you released made Tom groan, and he can feel his dick throbbing in his trousers.

He fucked you with his fingers, bringing yo close to the edge. The final push over the brink and into the sweet abyss of pleasure was his lips sucking on your clit teasingly.

You moaned out his name, your thighs trembling and closing in around his head.

Tom laps up every last drop of your orgasm. The slight overstimulation making you whimper.

Still in a haze from your previous orgasm you didn’t notice that Tom had stood up and pulled his pants down, releasing his cock. When the dizziness in your brain eased your eyes focused on Tom's hand stroking his dick. Precum already leaking.

You let out a moan when you felt the head of his dick nudge your center. “Tom, please.,” you said breathy,” Fuck me already.”

His response was a smug smirk before he pushed into you completely in one thrust. “Fuck. I love how you feel around me. So good.”he muttered.

Mewling and whimpering you hooked your legs around his waist meeting his restless thrusts.

One of his hands was one the glass beside your head. He leaned down to capture your lips in a deep kiss while the movements of his hips and the tempo of his pumping into you, increased.

“God you’re so fucking tight. I could spent every fucking second of every fucking day between your legs. This is heaven, darling.”

“Tom” you moaned desperate. His words making your walls flutter around him, resulting in his thrust growing sloppy.

“Come for me darling.” He said while rubbing your clit vigorously.

“Mmh Tom, yes right there. God don’t stop.” You moaned when he continued to hit that spot. One last thrust sent you over the edge. Stars exploding behind your eyelids and clenching so hard around Tom it triggered his own high.

With a long moan of your name he released into you.

You both were breathing heavily when you pulled Tom in for a kiss. Breaking away he rested his forehead against yours. His lips brushing over yours whenever he spoke.

Your attention was brought back into reality when you heard cheering coming from the capsule before yours. Snapping your head into the direction of the sounds you were relieved when you found them still staring out the window. Clapping and cheering at the fireworks.

“Tom.” His eyes were closed and he was enjoying the feeling of you, your body in his arms and your sweet walls still around him. “We gotta get dressed, immediately.”

With a displeased groan he slipped out of you, pulled his trousers back on and went to put your panties back on you.

Before he pulled them all up though he used one of his fingers to gather his cum and pumped it back into you.

“Gotta keep something of me inside you, darling.” Then he pulled your panties up and went to stand in front of the window to fix his hair.

You were so startled from his actions that you could do nothing but stare at him with shock written all over your face and a heavy blush was coating your cheeks a deep type of red. “No need to get shy on me now, pretty girl.”

You chuckled and muttered “unbelievable” under your breath before you also turned to the window to fix yourself besides Tom.

ⓘ Hope you liked it :))

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