#mob!hollands

[peterdarlingg]

Bloody promises

Pairing:Mob!tom holland x reader

Synopsis: it’s your first date with Tom in a long time. Though things don’t go as planned.

Warnings: mentions of injuries, blood, pain meds, angst. (I think that’s it let me know if I’m missing something.)

A/n: hope you enjoy! I love hearing feedback (nicely<3)

It was wrong place wrong time. You and Tom had planned to go out on a date that night, seeing as it’s been months since you both had spent quality time together.

You decided to just keep it simple and take a walk and eat some ice cream from your favorite place in London.

Taking a stroll all the while Tom is telling you about his day, how horrible it was, how someone owed him tons of money and how much he missed you.

You always took his mind off of his work. Looking back, you knew what you were getting into when you started dating.

After all, you yourself had come from the second most powerful mob in London. Your father though kept you in the dark about a lot of the bad and the ugly, seeing as he wanted to protect you but now this is your life permanently. Though Tom always tries to protect you from everything and anyone.

Many always tried to take down Tom and his mob and all were unsuccessful. That meant he always had full protection on the mansion and on you specifically. You always had a target on your back since you were considered Tom’s weakness and your father had his own powerful mob as well. So you thought who would dare go against the top two mobs in London?

Tom looking back now, was regretting not having his personal guard with him on your guys’ date. You specifically asked today, that it would just be you and him and that you were tired of having someone follow the both of you around and how you just wanted today to be private. “Please T. For me?”

“Things have been really stressful for the both of us and I just want to spend this time together. I know it would be good for us. Please. Just this once?” You begged him to be alone together. You had literally not once gone out wheather with or without Tom, without having protection. Just you and Tom.

He couldn’t say no to you.

~~~

“Tom, T-Tom please,” you cried out.

“We’re almost there darling, stay with me,” he strained, choking back his sobs.

“I can’t, I c-ca-an’t,” you choked out in pain.

Tom stepped on the gas and held your hand and kissed your knuckles and putting pressure on your wound on your side.

“Hey-hey, y/n, stay with me, stay awake okay, we’re almost home!” You could hear Tom faintly talking to you but it wasn’t really registering over your heavy breathing at this point. But you could feel the anxiety radiating from him. “Harrison!” Tom yelled bursting into the house with you in his arms, looking for his second in command. His yell echoed eerily through the house and just seconds later Harrison came running down the hallway, face panicked and alert.

“Get Claire here now!” He barked. Claire was a doctor and he pays her a hefty amount of money to work for him and the only one Tom trusted at that. Harrison opened his mouth just before Tom yelled “Ask questions later haz, now!” He ran down stairs to the med bay Area and put you in the bed. You were yelling in pain begging him for relief.

“Please make it stop,” you shouted voice straining in pain. “Make it stop,” you muttered, sobbing quietly. “Please..” you begged him. “Shhh” Tom whispered between your cries of help, tears searing down his face, holding you in his arms rocking you back and forth gently, arm wrapped around your head cradling it gently while his other hand continues putting pressure elbow deep in your blood.

You whimpered as he put generous pressure to stop the blood from flowing further. “Shhh, I’m so sorry sweetheart, I’m so sorry, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay love,” face buried in your hair, pressing his lips to your temple. “It hurts Tommy,” you muttered. “I know, I know my darling, it’s okay we’re going to get you fixed up okay?” He rasped. His heart hurt hearing the absolute agony in your voice. His mind kept going back to your date and how he could’ve saved you from this pain.

“You doing okay love?”, he noticed you were very quiet. You were sitting together on a bench in the park at night after having a mouth watering dinner. Not from those fancy restaurants Tom went for his formal meetings though.

You had always loved getting the greasy, mouth watering food from your favorite diner that had been around for forever. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He asked while looking at you with all the admiration in the world. It was just you and him.

“Yeah.” You smiled softly at him. “I was just thinking that I don’t remember the last time we went out together, you know I just-“

Tom was brought back when he heard footsteps coming inside and he saw Claire. “What’s the damage?”, She asked Tom. You tuned them out, you felt heavy but on the clouds at the same time. Tom was holding your hand and still putting pressure on with his other. You didn’t look so good. Your face was white as a sheet and you were sweating profusely. Your body was shaking and shuddering. Claire was already going to work. “How much blood has she lost?”, she asked him. Tom let out a shaky breath, his anxiety overflowing. “A lot. A bunch of it…too much,” his voice barely above a whisper. “I-I-I’m-m cold-d.” You whispered. You were breathing rapidly, Your body shaking, curling up into you self as you tried to get warm.

“She’s going into shock,” Claire announced and she started working as fast as she could. “Get that blanket from the chair over there and wrap it around her shoulders. Now.” She ordered Tom while she continued working on you and pushing some fluids into an IV into your arm and hooked you up to various machines that made you look so fragile beneath them. In just a few seconds, Tom came back next to you and started covering you with the blanket and tucking it around your shoulders very effectively. He then proceeded to rub up and down your shaky arms continuously trying to comfort you and keep you as warm as possible.

He stood at the head of the bed and watched Claire starting to work on you. She had given you some anesthesia and pain meds so you were slowly getting knocked out at this point. Your eyes fluttered shut looking up at Tom, his fingers tangled in your hair, hand rubbing up and down your arms and leaned down and kissed your hair. He was the last thing you saw before you saw black.

~~~

You woke up to annoyingly loud beeps. Attempting to open your eyes was a struggle it was like they were glued shut. You felt a pang of pain down your side that came and went. Finally coming to it your eyes slowly fluttered open and you realized you were in the med bay in your home. Suddenly you heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. The voices got gradually louder and that’s when you realized it was Tom arguing with Harrison. You looked around the room and found evidence of Tom staying here by your side. His phone, cups of coffee and blankets and other clutter. The door opened abruptly and Tom walked in.

“Sweetheart, you’re awake!” Tom tried to look happy but you could see the concern and sadness clear as day in his eyes. “Yeah,” You croaked your throat scratchy and dry. You coughed harshly, wincing in pain from your side. Tom rushed to get you some water.

“Here, here darling, drink baby” he held up a cup of water to your mouth helping you sip, his hand cupping your head for support. The cold water felt incredible, like you hadn’t had a drink in weeks.

“More water?” He gently asked. You shook your head no. “No thank you.” You whispered head falling back from a sudden dizziness. “You okay, love?” “How are you feeling?” He gently probed, gently running his hand over your hair. “I’m okay I think, just a little lightheaded. “It’s probably the meds they got you on. It’s gonna go away in a bit don’t worry.” He said softly, sitting beside you on the edge of your bed.

“It’s okay it’s kinda sick actually, it’s like I’m drunk,” you giggled, turning into a full blown laugh. Tom started laughing as well seeing you all high and silly from the meds was very interesting to say the least. “Why were you yelling?” You softly asked him after coming down from your laugh attack. “What?” “I heard you and Harrison arguing out in the hall,” you told him. “Oh..I- I’m just so- I just can’t believe I let tonight happened. It’s all my fault and I’m not gonna stop till I find out who did this to you. I’m so sorry darli-“ “T, stop, take a breath.” You stopped his rambling. “It’s not your fault.” “Please don’t ever think that. It’s not.” You shook your head looking him in the eye. “You saved me.” Voice cracking, you smiled sadly at him, tears welling in your eyes. “No but I shouldn’t have had to save you from anything or anyone, you don’t get it.” He shook his head, getting worked up now. “I could’ve lost you tonight.” His voice cracked, eyes teary. ‘I could’ve lost you, I was loosing you.” His eyebrows furrowed a pesky little tear escaping his eye. You slowly cupped his face, gently wiping his tears with your thumbs, kissing his forehead.

“I’m here,” you whispered in the cold empty room. Just you and him. “I’m here Tom, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” You pressed your forehead against his, eyes closed breathing each other in as time stood still, just you and him. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you most.” you whispered back. He smiled gently. You don’t know who leaned in first but it didn’t matter you felt his soft warm lips on yours.

He Feverishly kissed you like you’d disappear and slip out of his arms at any moment. His fingers tangled in your hair and your hands around his neck. He was holding onto you so tightly but so gently at the same time. He deepened the kiss and held you tighter somehow if that was even possible. Both your limbs entangled and you couldn’t see where your arms began and ended. He was being so gentle and tender with you like you were made of glass, he never forgot that you were still freshly, badly injured.

Coming up for air both of you panting, you rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes enjoying being in his arms and in his warmth and presence. “Please don’t blame yourself my love.” You told him, voice soft. “I don’t blame you and I don’t believe that what happened was in any way shape or form your fault.” “If anything I’m the one to blame, cause you told me it’s best to have protection with us and I said no and-“ “hey-hey, no, you’re not to blame for this. At all.” He backed away to look at you.

“You just wanted it to be me and you.” “And that’s valid.” “I know you’ve been stressed lately. And I know I haven’t been making it better with me always looking over my shoulder. But I promise you right here, right now I’ll do better by you. I swear it.” He looked at you intensely, eyebrows furrowed. “Pinky promise?” You lightly laughed, trying to lighten the mood, raising your pinky.

He chuckled and held up his own. “pinky promise.” He intertwined his pinky with your own. Then hugged your head firmly to his chest, kissing your hair.

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

COMING SOON!!!

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Ballerina Reader

(I do my best to be as non-descriptive as possible, but I do use she / her and mention that reader is a ballerina)

Inspired by the question: Have you ever tried to eat at a restaurant, which happened to be a mafia / mob front, but you didn’t know that, and everyone inside just stared as you walked in because nobody actually eats there?

I FINALLY decided what I want my first piece back to be and I’m so excited shdiznejfns it’s very funny if I do say so myself. Once I got the idea I rushed and typed it on my phone and I already KNOW there are so many spelling errors because I have auto correct turned off and right now it looks like shit hahdndisfn. BUUUUT I just need to give it a quick read through / fix errors on my laptop and we’ll be good to go! Full preview below the cut :)

It had been Bucky’s idea to name the restaurant Tony’s. After their dear friend who had given his life in a war that should’ve never been fought.

It had been Peter’s idea to ‘open a restaurant’. He pointed out that it would be the perfect realistic cover, though Steve argued that they didn’t really need one. Everyone in Brooklyn and the neighboring cities knew who they were, why did they need to put up any sort of front?

In the end, Bucky sided with Peter. They needed a place to talk shop and handle business, and it had to be somewhere that the outside wouldn’t attract any trouble (aka law enforcement). A warehouse was too obvious and was practically begging to be raided. He agreed with Steve, though, in that everyone knew who they were and what their business really was. He pointed out that it was actually a good thing. It would be pretty obvious that the restaurant wasn’t a restaurant, and they wouldn’t attract actual customers. But they’d make it legit, so that they couldn’t be shut down. Like Peter said, they needed a realistic cover.

Within a month, Tony’s was up and running. Running, as in the lights were on during what would be deemed normal business hours. The door was kept locked, but that didn’t matter because as Bucky predicted, no one tried to actually eat there.

Until one day when rehearsal ran nearly 2 hours late. You were tired, exhausted mentally and physically, and you just wanted some comfort food before heading back to your apartment to enjoy the next 2 days off. Still somewhat new to the city, you decided to get off of the subway one stop earlier, and find a restaurant on your way home.

Luckily for you, a neon sign reading TONY’S caught your eye. Unbeknownst to you, there was a meeting going on inside, and someone had forgotten to lock the front entrance.

As you pushed the door open, you had no idea the events that were about to unfold.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED WHEN I POST FOR BUCKY, LET ME KNOW!!

[moon-fics]

headcanons about mob!tom holland × female!reader with the trope grumpy × sunshine where she is extremely agitated and hyperactive which drives him crazy sometimes because she can also be quite impulsive but he loves her more than anything else

A/n: Love the Mob!Tom requests! AHHHHH😍

Tom is always busy with work and keeping things quiet

Which sometimes means he's tired and just wants peace and quiet

So when he comes home to you rambling about your day he has to stay quiet and listen

It's not that he doesn't enjoy listening to you talk because it's one of his favorite pastimes

However, sometimes he just needs to close his eyes and relax in silence

You can easily catch one when it's one of those days and you'll happily trade talking for cuddles

During your time together he'll shut off his phone and if he forgets he'll scold anyone on the other line for calling him

He often has to talk you out of bad ideas right before you do them

A lot of people think he finds you annoying because he refuses to smile in front of his colleagues

He'll just be standing behind you with a frown while you smile at every person you pass by

The truth is he's happy every second he gets to be with you and you're close enough to know that

If anyone tries to tell you otherwise they'll have to deal with his frustrations

Although he doesn't like PDA too much he'll gladly kiss you if you ever ask

But if anyone tries to tease him about it he'll pout for a while

He'll stop once he wraps his arms around you

[charkyzombicorn]

Found family that is this specifically

[maple-the-awesome]

Prettiest One In The Room || Part 2/2

Pairing: Mob! (any) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 4,488

Overview: After being the victim of cruel remarks and snide laughter from others, you decide to take your husband's generous offer in proving just how much he loves his new wife. Warning: Smut, +18, oral (fem. receiving), gentle dom!Peter, sub!Reader, virgin!Reader, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, hint of overstimulation, breeding kink if you squint, husband kink (because Peter loves being married to you😉), some dirty talk (but mostly praise because Peter worships you😍).

Marvel Masterlist 🖤 Fandom Masterlist 🖤 Requests

PART ONE

You would shiver at the feeling of the cold marble counter brushing against your exposed thigh, however you're a little too distracted by Peter attacking your neck to complain. Addicted to the soft touch of your skin against his lips, he presses a trail of kisses as far north as your jaw and as far south as your collarbone, each as messy and wet as the last. Sometimes he hits the same place twice before finally deciding to give into temptation and nip you there; never enough to draw blood nor hurt, but plenty to make you whimper in anticipation. This is only the beginning after all.

You can feel Peter's calloused hands dust over your curves as they slide back downwards to your legs. After spreading them apart, he shamelessly positions himself in between which allows him better access directly to you. Personal space is further reduced by guiding your legs around his waist while his arms snake around your torso, pulling you chest-to-chest where he can successfully tower over you. This forces you to keep your head cranked backwards especially when his lips finally meet yours.

You're not sure what's more surprising: his clear desire for his wife that he's amazingly kept hidden until now or the fact that he's somehow deaf to the rapid pounding of her heart. It's almost nauseating paired alongside your wavering nerves and wild thoughts that all seem so out of place. You planned for this. You want this especially after finally laying to rest your worries of being a shame to your husband...So why do you feel so anxious right now?

"...Princess?" Peter only barely pulls away, his breath still warm against yours.

You give a hum for it's all you can muster.

"Do you not want this? I've told you time and time again: I won't be mad if you don't, but I'm not a mind reader, love. You have to be honest with me-" Crap, he isn't deaf after all.

"-I don't know what to do with my hands," you blurt pathetically, cheeks feeling as hot as the sun while you refuse to meet his eyes.

It's true. Your trembling hands have been clenching the edge of the counter in an iron grip, too busy debating their possible options to actually commit to one. Should you be hugging him back? Running your fingers through his slicked back hair? Maybe move them lower down his body until-

-A deep chuckle rumbles in Peter's chest, muffling itself against another quick kiss," this isn't a test, sweetheart, and don't you dare worry about me. Just do whatever makes you feel right."

Giving it some more thought paired with his encouraging words, you finally move your arms around him, wrapping them delicately over his shoulders where your fingertips can be tickled against the longer hair at the back of his head. Your bashful smile melts against his when he resumes work, this time biting your lower lip until you open your mouth only a crack. You soon open much wider however, when his tongue forces its way inside.

Dizzy from this deep kiss, your attention is only stolen away by the feeling of your dress being rolled up. All night you've been tugging at its ends trying to keep it from riding up too far yet here you are now, eagerly shifting your weight to help Peter swiftly move it upwards until exposing your full lower half.

You're taken aback by the animalistic growl he gives once looking you over, a sound that affects you in an almost embarrassing way that goes directly to your core. He has no guilt in staring, in fact he even goes as far as to lick his lips while plucking at the band of your new black lingerie," have you been hiding these pretty things the whole night, princess? 'makes me think someone was planning this, hmm?"

He must've truly been joking again, because you notice a very brief flash of surprise in his eyes when you look away shyly. Of course, it's gone by the time he blinks and replaced by a mischievous glimmer instead as he twiddles the ribbon against his finger, leaning towards you closer with a whispered voice that tickles your ear," usually I don't appreciate anyone being one step ahead of me, but for you, my sweet princess...I'm willing to make an exception."

Both of Peter's hands grasp your hips, giving them a squeeze as he pecks your lips before promptly moving along your jawline towards more important places," tell me, did you pick these out specifically for me?"

You hum your reply, each featherlight kiss leading down to the very crook of your neck.

"I bet you spent hours trying to find the perfect match. Which hug your figure best..."

You whimper when his large hands cup your ass as a perfect fit. His wedding ring is cold to the touch and judging on his grip, you wouldn't doubt a temporary imprint or two of it against your soft skin.

"...Which would make me hard for you..."

You bite your lip as you feel one of his hands move too slowly to reach your inner thigh, tracing a line from just above your knee up to the very place you can't wait to have him at.

"...Which would feel like utter heaven to wear while I shower you in all my love..."

You finally give a moan as Peter suddenly sucks the most sensitive skin of your neck harshly.

"Which you'll never be able to so much as look at again without remembering the time I tore into you, my beloved wife; the prettiest woman to ever live."

"P-Peter, you're going to leave marks," you warn, your concern overshadowed by pleasure as your husband continues to ignore your statement, deciding to fulfill it instead by giving you another suck slightly higher.

"That's the plan. 'have to set it straight with everyone else out there: you're mine and I have no shame in worshiping you."

It'll be impossible to hide all the marks Peter decorates you in right now, but maybe that's not a bad thing. While your cheeks burn with heat, there's a candle of excitement within your chest at the thought of leaving this bathroom arm-in-arm with your husband, covered in his lovely hickeys while wearing a smug smile upon your smeared lips. No one will be able to deny it then: you're his and he'd never have it any other way.

Peter's hands move again, only barely grazing over your upper thighs where they hesitate so that his fingers may pluck gently at the band of your lingerie.

"May I?"

It feels like a dream to have Peter push you further back onto the counter after you nod, removing your legs from his waist and placing them in a bent position over his shoulders once he kneels down. You must've been holding your breath for it, watching intensely as he carefully pulls off your panties to leave your bottom half completely exposed to him and only him. It's not until his thumb- roughly compared to his previous touch- brushes against your wet clit that your breath is released in a shaky gasp.

"So wet already, princess...and I've barely even touched you. How are you possibly going to make it through the night?" He doesn't remove his thumb from your clit, rather he continues rubbing circles against it which have your toes curling inside your heels.

"That feels good, doesn't it? Do you like when I touch you there, princess?"

You hum, tossing your head back.

"Words, princess."

"Y-Yes...It feels heavenly!" You fail to suppress the moan by chewing on your inner cheek. That task is impossible as Peter's finger dips into your soaking folds where it then dances over your opening.

Pleased by your previous answer, he smirks," you're the only person in the world I'll ever get down on my knees for, you know that?"

You dare to look down, curiosity getting the best of you when you feel his warm breath against your pussy, however you can only get a brief glance at the sight before your head is thrown back again, an unrestrained cry filling the air as Peter's lips attach themselves to your clit. Before you can even fully process the feeling of his tongue against your nerves, he uses it as a distraction to push his long finger into you.

Both actions are foreign in feeling. Sure, you've experimented with yourself a little as a horny teenager and you'd be lying to say you haven't secretly touched yourself even after marrying Peter. Once growing comfortable around your new husband, the next natural step was to fuck your own fingers while imagining the touch to belong to him as a fruitless attempt in reaching a proper orgasm much to your own frustration. Luckily, you don't think that's going to be a problem after tonight.

Peter's finger disappears to his knuckle as he pumps into your pussy, his tongue swirling over your sensitive bulb in the meantime. He doesn't bother being dignified about it nor is he afraid of the echo of his own slurping as he practically eats you alive like a starved man.

One finger then two, stretching you out in a way that's only a taste of what's to come. They burn at first, yet the more he moves inside your tight pussy, scissoring and curling against your wet walls, the more that pain transforms into a pleasure that has your mouth hung open, droll barely kept from dripping in the corners.

Never have you been able to make yourself feel this way. Where you'd normally lose strength just as your legs began to shake, Peter shows resistance, merely smirking while keeping at it. As your moans increase in volume with his name being torn from your throat in the form of a prayer, he only temporarily moves away from your pussy, his voice unforgivably deep.

"Are you gonna cum, princess? Go ahead then...Show your husband that he's doing his job well. 'show him how much you love it when he eats you out."

You're certain your grip on the counter is white at this point, any words you try to speak broken against your own moans until the feeling is overwhelming. You weren't sure how much longer you could last, however the answer is quickly provided when Peter gives another powerful suck while curling his fingers inside.

Crying out his name, you feel yourself finally come undone over his fingers and face. Your body shakes and you can't help lifting your hips into him in weak thrusts. He doesn't stop right away, instead catching your hips in his hands and pulling you into his face where he can easily kitten lick his share of your juices even if it leaves you whimpering.

It isn't until Peter stands to his feet that you can see what you've done, his jaw shining in the lights hanging above you both. Smirking, he shamelessly sticks his fingers into his mouth one at a time, sucking them off before kissing you again which allows you to taste yourself on his lips, too.

"Mmm, you taste wonderful, princess," he hums, pecking your forehead," but I'm ready for the main course, how about you? You took my fingers so well. 'think you can do that to my cock, too?"

"Please."

Peter chuckles before undoing his belt, letting his pants fall and pool at his ankles. His erection is clear in his boxers, a bit of precum visibly leaking onto the fabric. When he pulls this last remaining barrier of clothing down, his cock finally springs free and slaps his stomach.

You gulp, both out of desperation and slight worry. It's one thing to imagine what he looks like down there as you pump yourself with a measly two fingers, but it's a very different effect to see him in person like this. He's long and lean yet far bigger than just two fingers. A part of you wants to worry over this size, fearing the pain that will come from it regardless of what he's already done to make you slick. Of course, that's the quieter side of your head. Regardless of such silent worries, you lick your lips, dying for a taste.

With his cock in hand, Peter gives it a few pumps to prepare while caging you against the counter with his free hand. Despite the current situation including all the dirty things that have been said and done leading up to now, his voice is soft as he whispers in your ear," do you still want this, princess? We can keep it down to just you if you want."

"And leave you like that?" You whisper back, shivering at the sound of his cock sliding in his hand at a steady pace, and that's just it being coated in his own precum! What sinful sounds is it going to make pushed deep inside your slick?

"I could always finish myself off if-"

"-But I want you," you complain, placing a hand on the back of his head. Your fingers tangle in his hair, not applying any pressure but assuring he doesn't get any ideas of moving away," I want you inside me now. I want you to officially make me yours; all of me."

Peter moans lowly and you can feel his smooth tip barely poke against your folds," all of you, hmm? You want me to fuck your little pussy then?"

The tip pushes through only enough to run up and down through your folds, coating itself in leftover juices which makes you shiver again,"...break you open and pump you full of my big cock? Would you like that, princess?"

"Yes, I would, Peter. Please just fuck your wife already!" All he has to do is lean a little forward and he'll be in. Why must he tease like this?

"Atta girl."

You both moan when Peter finally pushes forward, his cock slipping into your pussy at a leisurely pace. Just as you expect, it burns a lot despite his fingers having already loosened you up. Such a feeling fills your eyes with tears which Peter brushes away with his thumbs kindly.

Whispering sweet words of encouragement along the way, he takes his time slowly sinking in until his balls reach your entrance, forbidding him from going any further," don't rush yourself, darling...Take your time and relax for me."

You whimper, your breath increasing as your pussy tries to adjust to his size, although it takes longer to get comfortable than you would like. Nevertheless, you listen to Peter's urges, waiting not so patiently for most of the stinging to subside before moving forward with the part you desire most.

Your husband groans when you weakly try to roll your hips against him, taking it as a sign to begin moving himself. Pulling out, he leaves just his tip in before slamming back into you again causing you to cry out in pleasure. With this, he begins the task of pumping into you as promised, starting out slow just to get you accustomed to the process.

With practice, your whines of discomfort become moans of pleasure ripped from the very depths of your lungs. Both of your arms wrap around him, digging into the back of Peter's suit which will more than likely need a special trip to the dry cleaners to get ironed out after the way you've been gripping onto the fabric (not that he minds one bit). Meanwhile, he keeps his own arms tightly around you to prevent you from being pushed too far back onto the counter by the force of his strong thrusts, instead keeping you trapped securely right where he can please you best on the edge.

"You're so damn tight, princess...So tight for me and only me. Does it feel good having your husband finally claim your pussy?

"Just." Thrust...

"Like." Thrust.

"You." Thrust!

"Planned!" THRUST!

Your nails scratch his skin with the same amount of pressure that your teeth bite into your lower lip with, trying to suppress the shameful smile his dirty words give," oh yes!"

Suddenly Peter stops and, for a split second, you fear that's a sign he came already, however before you can feel too disappointed over that, you realize the true reason for his pause.

"We're fucking busy!" He shouts angrily as the bathroom door only just begins to creak open.

 This makes your heart leap both due to his livid tone and the fact that someone almost caught the two of you, although you're sure the woman probably feels worse given how quickly she slams the door with a horrified gasp. Surely she put two and two together hearing moans then a man's voice coming from inside the women's bathroom...Oh well.

You might've let the interruption ruin this otherwise perfect moment if not for Peter lifting you off the counter and, in one swift movement, bending you over it with your bare ass in the air towards him.

"Hands on the counter, princess," Peter orders and you happy oblige," now unless you have any objections, I'd like to continue where we left off from here."

While you eagerly slap your palms against the smooth surface, keeping yourself upright with your back purposefully arched in a beautiful way, your prepared posture falters immediately when Peter pushes into you roughly from behind.

No longer facing him, you must watch from the mirror in front of you to see just what your husband's up to back there (not that this is a bad sight). His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, sweat beading on his forehead as he holds your hips into place with a powerful grip. A mix of swears and praises fall from his satisfied smirk, his lustful eyes drifting from the sight of his cock disappearing into your deep pussy then to the mirror where he can check on your own expression.

Honestly you're a complete mess; absolutely breathtaking. You can barely keep your eyes open let alone keep yourself upright on the counter, falling over nearly every time Peter thrusts into you. It isn't probably not all that ladylike to have so much drool dripping from your mouth which hangs open and sings admirations for the man doing this to you, but he's touched to hear such songs.

"Peter-!" You go to shout, shutting your mouth quickly to muffle the sound in fear of someone else hearing. Even assuming that woman didn't go spread the news about Peter Parker currently fucking the soul out of his wife in the bathroom, others are bound to know the difference between an angry wife and a very happy one when they hear it themselves. 

Despite your thoughtfulness towards keeping this show private, Peter seems to have a different idea, reaching forward to pull your hair. It might've been his idea of being dominant, however it feels more like he's running his hand through your hair instead of actually pulling it. Damn him and his caring nature right now!

"Don't be shy. Tell them exactly who's fucking you, princess. 'make them regret ever doubting you."

You whimper.

"You about to cum again already, sweetheart? Damn, do you love your husband's thick cock that much that you can barely last?" Peter mocks, his thrusts getting harder," come on, princess. You deserve this. Cum for your husband and let everyone hear you do it!"

"PETER, MMM!" You don't need to be told twice. By the time Peter finishes his sentence, you're already letting loose over his cock. You both moan, you for the feeling of being so full and loved while Peter moans for the feeling of your tight pussy hugging around him so delicately; a perfectly fit just as he imagined you'd be for him.

Crossing your arms against the counter, you use them as a pillow to rest your head on as you sigh pleasantly. Once catching your breath, you glance over your shoulder with a tired smile in preparation to praise Peter, however that apparently has to wait.

Before you can process it, he's sneaking one of his hands around your front, his fingers searching blindly for something which he knows he's found by the way you raise your head against with a loud gasp.

"Peter, what are-?"

"-One more time, princess. I want you to cum one more time for me, please," his leans completely over your arched back, pressing against you until his teeth are able to nibble your ear lobe.

"I-I don't know if I can-can," you mewl, unable to help the movement of your legs as they prance in place. You're still so sensative from your last two orgasms yet Peter wants a third?

Thinking about it now, you're certain those first two orgasms were your strongest ever. Hell, maybe you've never actually orgasmed before if it's supposed to feel like that. Never have you felt anything near those powerful waves of pleasure when playing with yourself, so if Peter's feeling anything like you right now, you can understand why he's suddenly addicted, but can you really survive a third?

"You can do this, sweetheart. It'll be quick. Just one more so that I can cum with you this time. Don't you want to learn what it's like to have a man's stuff himself inside you?"

So dirty. 

"...But if you're really that tired, you can rest. I can finish myself like I said earlier. Just tell me what you prefer."

Hmm, so many options? Try for another orgasm, let him finish himself off and possibly cum elsewhere on your body. Hell, you're not against the idea of blowing him either.

"I'm waiting for the green light, princess."

You moan at his breath in your ear," go-go ahead...b-but I can't guarantee I'll be able to walk out of here."

"I'll carry you then," Peter smirks before mercilessly playing with your swollen ball of nerves, swirling around it with his thumb while slowly starting his thrusts up again.

You can't bother to keep your head up this time, resting it on your arms while allowing Peter to do as he pleases. He deserves it anyways with how good he's been making you feel for your first time.

He uses his free arm to wrap around your stomach, pulling you into him until there's no space left. Your back is completely pressed to his, his pelvis smacking against your ass as his cock buries itself into your slick folds at a rapid rate that has you screaming his name in no time.

You're so sensitive, your pussy feeling stretched to its limit while your clit's overwhelmed, but you don't want it to end. If you could, you'd stay like this the entire night, however realistically, you won't be able to last too much longer from now. Peter won't either. Soon, his own moans are matching the volume of yours, his grip tightening over you yet his naughty hand losing its persistent rate rubbing your blub.

Letting his head fall forward, Peter bites then kisses your shoulder sobbly," you-you feel that, princess? My cock...twitching inside you? I'm getting close...Mmm...'can't last much longer..."

Oh, you feel it alright. Even if you didn't, you could tell just by the way his face is screwed in the mirror. Peter's unraveling, reaching his own breaking point just as you are.

"I-I'ma...too," using whatever strength you have left, you push your ass against him, giving weak thrusts to help him along as you feel yourself beginning to cum once more. This time you have tears in your eyes, enough to roll down your cheeks as you shout into the air without any regard as to who might hear it," PETER! F-FUCK!"

The deep groan behind you is the only warning you have a split second before you shiver at the feeling of something foregin filling your insides. It's warm and thick, coating your walls beautiful if only you could see it.

Peter's thrusts shutter, both of his hands hurrying to steady himself by grabbing hold of your hips. He holds you to his leaking cock, giving it a few good thrusts to make sure he fills you completely, pushing his seed deep inside. You feel cold and empty when he finally pulls out with a sigh, although there's some satisfaction in his hand covering your entrance immediately afterwards.

"Such a good girl...So full of my cum," Peter whispers happily, using his fingers to push back in any of his thick liquids that seep out of your aching folds. If it weren't for your birth control, something tells you you'd definitely be pregnant after this, but if the process is this nice, maybe that's not a terrible idea someday.

You refuse to let go of the counter, using it as support to turn around and face your husband while still catching your breath. The first thing you do is look down, confirming for yourself that beads of white cum cover your pussy's entrance even around his hand. As for his cock, it's already starting to rise again despite being slick in your juices and his own cum along the sides.

"How...-" You inhale tiredly with a teasing smile,"-are you still hard after all that?"

"That's what happens when you have such a gorgeous wife. I could go all night if she asked," Peter leans forward, wrapping his arms tightly around you and pressing a needy kiss to your lips. Judging on how desperatly he claims your mouth, one would think he hasn't kissed you in ages and defintely didn't just get done fucking the life out of you.

His cock presses against your inner thigh, something that would've made you wet again if not for your three orgasms having turned your legs into jelly. There's no way you can go for more when you can barely stand straight on your own.

"Lift me onto the counter?" You ask into the kiss, Peter happily obliging.

You can't tell if it feels better to be sitting down with how much your pussy and lower back burn, however at least you're steady enough as you wrap your arms around Peter's shoulders, pulling him into another kiss.

He's the one to eventually pull away, his hands covering your cheeks as he carefully looks your face over with a hint of worry in his eyes," I didn't get too rough, did I?"

"Not at all. I loved it," you confirm, pecking his lips," I love you."

Peter smiles at this, letting his hands fall back around you," I love you, too, princess...and I hope you know that now without a doubt. Never let anyone make you think differently."

"And what if I want another lesson to prove it?"

"Sweetheart, you can have this without the 'lesson' part anytime you desire."

"...Then how about more tonight? I need some rest, but I'm not against the idea of taking care of you in the car ride back- if you want that is," you offer against his ear, running a hand down Peter's chest while giving his necktie a suggestive tug in the process.

Needing no other options, Peter makes quick work in lifting you up bridal style and demanding the first guard he crosses outside of the bathroom to start the car. It might not be exactly as you planned earlier, but you're certain tonight is going to be even better than what you dreamed.

[huntergatherercreator]

Liar: Part 4

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You find out what Tom does for a living.

A/N: It's been a while since part 3, if anyone is tagged that doesn't want to be anymore let me know 🙂

Part one | Part two | Part three

1,851 words

The minute you'd landed at the airport the press of unfamiliar humid air had settled on your chest making it difficult to breathe. You'd expected to be filled with relief and have the tension of the last day melt away. You'd expected to feel free. Instead, the sudden feeling of loss was almost crippling as you stared out at the foreign streets. Not only had you lost the man you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with, you’d lost your life. Your friends, your family, your home. All gone in a matter of minutes.

You silently cursed him. For pursuing you, for being so attentive and caring, for making you fall so hard for him. For keeping secrets, for lying, for being a killer for hire and not thinking you deserved to know exactly who you were getting involved with. But most of all you cursed yourself. For being so blinded by him in every way that you didn’t even suspect something was amiss until it was too late.

While the sun beat down relentlessly on the palms you stood at the exit doors with frustration swirling in your gut. What were you doing here? How had things gone so wrong so quickly? Tears prickled behind your eyes but you held them back. Now wasn’t the time. You had to work out your next move before he realised you were gone, if he hadn’t already. His warning about the mafia lingered above your head like a guillotine waiting to drop. You’re a liability to them now. A chill swept through you despite the overbearing heat of the city.

If you were going to survive and stay hidden you had to become someone else. Someone untraceable.

***

Tom

The early morning sun bathed the room in golden light. It spilled over her. Caressed the bare skin of her back as she slept peacefully. Shrouded her in a warm glow that made his breath catch. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to this. Waking up next to her always felt like a sneak peek of heaven. One he didn’t deserve given he was definitely not on that guest list anymore. Not after everything he’d done. When he looked at her though, none of that mattered. He’d redo his sins a hundred times over knowing their path would lead to her.

He brushed his fingertips down her spine unable to hold back from touching her any longer. She stirred slightly with a soft contented sigh. He pressed his lips to her shoulder. Her neck. Her jaw. Each kiss as gentle as possible. He didn’t want to wake her but he couldn’t help himself. A small smile tugged the corner of her mouth.

‘Is this your subtle way of saying you’re ready for another round?’ The husky sleep laced tone of her voice was like honey to his ears. Sweet and hard to resist. Speaking of hard...

‘It wasn’t, but since you insist,’ he moved to gently cover her back with his body, his evident interest in her idea pressed firmly against her. ‘I’m more than happy to oblige.’

A laugh that had his heart stuttering.

‘Is that a no?’ He asked softly, leaning in to graze her neck with his teeth. She wriggled back against him with a gasp.

‘You’re insatiable’ she muttered, faux exasperated. Rolling over she finally opened her eyes to gaze up at him. God, he could get lost in those eyes. The depth of them consumed him. The way they lit up around him with sparks of joy, admiration, lust. He wished he could be exactly how she saw him. Unstained and pure. He never wanted her to stop looking at him like she was at that very minute. He already knew he needed to tell her everything, preferably before he got in any deeper than he already was. He just had to find the right time. Her lips brushed against his, her hands trailing down his chest. Later, he resolved as he kissed her back languishing in the contentment that came with her touch. He’d tell her later.

His brothers voice broke him from his reverie and he reluctantly returned his attention to the men filling the conference room.

“There’s nothing new to report. The Miller incident was handled. I have men still tracking Newman.” His voice sounded flat even to his own ears. His brother cleared his throat uncomfortably before jumping in with information of his own.

Eyes drifting back to the reports in front of him, Tom stared at them unseeing. The confrontation in your apartment had left him hollow. He’d been so sure you would see the situation the way he did, as a necessary part of his job and nothing more. Instead your reaction haunted him in the dark endless hours of the night.

That goddamned lunch date. Guilt wormed through him at what you’d walked in on. If he had paid attention to his phone more closely, or held off interrogating that creep for even ten more minutes you'd still be together. You were never supposed to see that side of him. What he did for a living was exactly that, it wasn’t personal. His hands may not be the cleanest, he’d done things that made other men flinch at the mere thought, but he’d never brought that darkness anywhere near you. You were his safe haven. The tether that kept him grounded even on his worst days.

Staying away from you caused a deep ache in his chest but you’d asked for space and no matter how long it took he’d wait. That didn't mean he wouldn’t keep checking up on you. He’d spent most of his nights parked up outside your apartment staring at the darkened windows praying for a glimpse of you to keep him sane. He wasn’t surprised you hadn’t contacted him, though it hurt more than he could put into words. He meant everything he’d said to you. He would be by your side through everything and anything that happened. There was nothing that could make him love you any less than he did.

As the meeting wrapped up he fled the room before he could get pulled into any conversations. The peace of his office was all he wanted until it was late enough to leave and head to your apartment. The anticipation of almost seeing you was all that got him through the afternoons anymore.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he was half way to his desk before he realised he wasn’t alone. He reflexively went for his gun.

“It’s me!” his brothers voice cracked in surprise as he rose from the leather armchair, hands up to ward him off. Tom froze, the weight of the gun in his hand burned as he realised what he’d been about to do.

“Stop sneaking about like that, Harry!” he snapped. He quickly holstered his gun and fisted his hands to hide their slight tremble.

“Me? Get your head out of your arse. You’re the one blowing off jobs, blowing off your family to sit in a dark car all night.”

Tom froze. His brother raised an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t honestly think no-one had noticed?”

Tom moved to sit at his desk. The seconds he had his back turned he tried to school his features. Had he really not noticed someone tailing him? Unsettled he shuffled his files, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he eventually answered when he was sure he had a hold of his emotions.

“Bullshit.” Harry stalked over to the desk and glared down at him with folded arms. “You need to stop. I don’t know what happened between the two of you but she’s not coming back.”

Ice slipped into his veins freezing him in place as he slowly processed his brothers words.

“What did you just say?” Tom’s voice was barely above a whisper but the warning tone had Harry tensing.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but she’s gone. Its time to get your shit together. You’ve been moping about for too long. People are starting to notice.”

Tom’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. His brother couldn’t be saying what he thought he was. There was no way.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” He was barely able to keep the slow rise of panic at bay as his mind raced. He hadn’t told anyone what happened. Even if Harry assumed you’d broke up he'd be giving Tom the ‘get over it by getting under someone’ speech, not saying what he was saying.

When Harry took too long to answer, Tom kicked his chair back and stalked over to him.

Harry straightened, surprise widening his eyes but he held his ground.

“What do you mean?” he half growled. His fingers itched to grab his brother by the shirt front and shake the answers out of him.

“How long has it been since you saw her?”

“Three weeks,” Tom reluctantly shared. Three weeks, 2 days and 8 hours. In other words, too damn long.

Harry hesitated again and Tom almost swung for him. “Tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“I honestly thought you knew, Tom,” Harry ruffled a hand through his hair uncomfortably. “She’s been MIA since then. She hopped on a red eye and Intel says there’s been no activity on her cards since she landed.”

Harry kept talking but the words were drowned out by the blood roaring in Tom’s ears. The edges of his vision wavered for a long second as he struggled to pull in a breath. You were gone. You’d left him.

His brothers hands were suddenly on his shoulders, fingers gently digging in to get his attention. When that failed he pushed Tom down into the nearest chair and a glass of whiskey appeared. He downed it without hesitation. It stung his throat and pooled in his empty stomach with a burn that did nothing to thaw the ice trapping his heart.

Fingers tangling in his curls he stared into his empty glass. Where had you gone? When would you be back? How could you leave without telling him? A million more questions raced through his mind as he tried to reconcile everything. How had he not noticed when he’d sat outside your apartment for so long each night?

With a jolt he realised that if Intel had told Harry about you leaving then you were on their radar already. A new wave of worries and anxiety took over as he silently questioned how long they’d been keeping tabs on you.

After what felt like an eternity he glanced up to find his brother sat opposite him, elbows resting against his knees as he nursed his own glass. The sympathy radiating off him set Tom on edge.

All promises to give you time no longer applied. He had to find you before his boss realised why you’d ran.

“Where is she?”

“She landed in Miami,” Harry’s jaw worked for a second before he surprisingly added, “I’ll book your flight.”

------

Taglist:

@loxbbg

@rosie-posie08

@woahmrstark

@a-mj-a

[coconutmall-ed]

these two are the same kind of loser i can’t explain it it’s just true

[mrs-hollandstan]

You & mob Tom fell out over you not wanting to move in with him or being part of his mafia crew

I changed this a lillll bit to fit one of my fave tropes of leaving when y/n is pregnant and Tom doesn’t know sooooo I hope you still enjoy hehe

You tried your best to pretend you didn't see him but he demanded all attention. Especially with that gaze directed towards the little girl in your arms. You'd seen Harrison around recently and you just knew that your baby girl looked just like her father and that he'd reappear, demanding you finish the conversation you refused to have nearly three years ago, settling instead, for walking out and never looking back. He'd never been fine with the decision, but now he was upset about the decision, seeing as your shared little girl was here and he'd known nothing about her. 

You'd only told him you didn't want to move in and that you didn't enjoy his career. He'd just shrugged it off, but what hurt was when you'd collected your things and disappeared in the night, blocking his number and moving out of town. But he'd found you anyways. He approaches, your eyes hooded as you stare at him, hoisting the three year old higher on your hip. He licks his lips, 

"So… when were you gonna tell me?" 

"I wasn't. And that right hand man of yours had no business doing it either." You spit. He hums, 

"Right… because it's totally acceptable to keep my daughter from me." The urge to fight him, tell him she's not his is strong, but you ignore it. You look to Evelyn, 

"You're staying with me." You scoff, 

"Yeah. I'll pass." He shoots daggers,

"Would you like me to take full custody Y/N?" He threatens. You swallow as he turns to you, staring down into your eyes, "Give me a reason to take my daughter from you." He growls. The whimper you release, at least, isn't loud enough for him to hear. He grips your arm, dragging you after him while you cradle your daughter to your hip. He practically shoves you into his car, a car seat being slid in before he climbs in beside you. He gestures to it, 

"Teach me how to use it." You don't necessarily do as you're told, you just buckle her into it, glancing up when she's settled. His eyes linger on her for a moment before they flick up to you ans then ahead at the road. You buckle yourself in, sitting quietly as his driver drives you back to the mansion you escaped from years ago. You sigh as you stare up at the dismal house, quickly unbuckling Ev from her carseat the second the car is parked. Tom moves around the car, pressing a hand to your lower back, leading you towards the front door. He gestures up the stairs once you're inside, 

"New stuff in the guest bedroom for the both of you. If you need anything, let me know." 

"Yeah, extra bedsheets and a basket." You murmur. He frowns, 

"Yeah… I'd love to see your daughter from a third-story window." He grumbles back. He turns on his heel and heads for the kitchen while you head upstairs. You inspect the guest bedroom, smiling as Evie immediately gasps and goes for the drawing table in the corner. It's easy to lose time when you're watching her create things like she always does, and before you know it, Tom comes into the room, glancing down at the little girl in the corner, 

"Look at that… didn't need the basket after all." You roll your eyes as he sits beside you, shrugging his suit jacket off. He sighs, 

"She's beautiful Y/N." He murmurs, leaning his elbows on his knees. You nod, 

"I know. She looks just like you and you've always been beautiful." He smiles,

"And yet I can't seem to keep you around." You glare at him, 

"And yet here I am being held hostage." He gestures to the door,

"I didn't lock you in. You could've strung your sheets together and made a run for it into the forest. But yet here you are, watching her have the time of her life." Glancing back at Evelyn, you chew the inside of your lip, 

"Yeah… I always seem to do that." There's a moment of silence before he speaks again, 

"I could've helped you." You shake your head, 

"I was not subjecting her to the same fate I had." You mutter. He frowns, 

"What's that supposed to mean? You let me get you pregnant. I couldn't have been that bad." 

"It wasn't you Tom, it's the fucking job. It would have killed me to have her used against us so your goddamn enemies could've gotten to you." You tell him. He frowns, 

"So… you don't hate me…" You shake your head, 

"No." He scoffs,

"You still fucking love me." 

"That doesn't matter anymore-"

"Of course it matters! I spent all this time thinking you hated me. Ans then Harrison finds out you have this little girl and I was heartbroken. That," he gestures to Evelyn, so much vulnerability in his eyes, "That's my little girl. I don't even know how she became this person because you left me." He has tears in his eyes now as you stare up at him. You swallow, 

"I can't have her used against me-" 

"I can give you a detail. Protection 24/7. I just… I hated feeling like the one person I was supposed to trust was double crossing me. I thought you hated me. Please… please, don't take her from me again. You think I liked not having you around? I fucking loved you." He explains. You blink up at him, 

"I'm scared." 

"You don't have to be. Trust me." He tells you. Glancing at Evelyn, you swallow, 

"I just don't wanna lose her." He takes your hands, 

"I… have you both." Finding his eyes, you sigh after a moment and nod, 

"Fine… but the second something happens to her, that's it. I'm done." He nods,

"You're not gonna have to worry. Anyone that touches either of you… dead on the spot." He tells you. You sigh, 

"And I don't wanna stay in this house. I've always hated this house." You admit. He nods, 

"Done." Moving in, he drags you in, his lips covering yours in a searing kiss. He drags you into his lap, stroking your hair back, 

"Fuck I missed you." He grumbles." You smile, staring down at him. He swallows, 

"What'd you name her?" Glancing over your shoulder, you smile,

"Evelyn Nicole." You admit. He smiles, 

"My mum will be… you've just inflated my mum's ego so hard." You giggle, 

"She's the best part of you." He shrugs, 

"She was… that little girl over there is the new best part." You stroke curls from his forehead, 

"This is true. Hence the name. Passing it from one to the other." He smiles, 

"She deserves the world." 

"And you know what… her father can give it to her." He nods, 

"And he intends to do so." You smile down at him, "starting now." He practically dumps you onto the couch, moving towards your daughter. When he crumbles onto the floor next to her, crossing his legs beneath him, you remember why you've loved him for so long. 

[peterdarlingg]

On a completely different note here’s a sneak peak of a series I’m working on :)

Thoughts, opinions?

Pairing: Mob!tom holland x reader

~~~~~

You suddenly felt a hand on knee and instinctively recoiled, letting out a sob choking you. “Hey, hey it’s okay,” you heard a soft voice say. Well as soft as a voice can be in a bar. But the lump In your throat was too big to reply to it. Loud sobs racking through your body when someone tried to touch you again on the shoulder.

“No, don’t touch me, please don’t touch me, please, please just…” you panicked. “Same thing happened when I tried talking to her, she wouldn’t talk to me,” Harrison told Tom. Tom glanced over to Haz from his crouched position in front of you. “Okay darling, I won’t touch you again okay?”

“Can you please just look at me?” “I just want to help,” Tom explained calmly. “No, I-I-no-“ you stuttered unable to catch your breath. “Shh, hey look me darling it okay, you’re okay,” you stared to look up slowly but surely until you faced the person owing the soft, calming voice. “That’s it darling,” “Hi, my name is Tom” “can you tell me what your name is?” He asked gently with a smile.

“You we’re still taking harsh breaths but calmed a bit looking into his eyes. “I-I don’t remember,” you mumbled, looking down, almost ashamed. “You don’t remember your name?” Tom asked skeptically. “I don’t remember anything,” you cried.

[msclaritea]

"Biopics of massively famous musicians are rarely very good, often because they stumble at the question of whom exactly they’re being made for. Are you making a movie for the already initiated die-hard fans yearning to see the life and times of their hero reflected back at them in exacting detail? Or is your movie a welcome mat for novices, a breezy jukebox of greatest hits aimed at cultivating new generations of fans, goosing streaming tallies and catalog sales in the process? Most musician biopics never manage to resolve this tension, in part because they’re usually also serving a third master, namely the musician’s estate, which tends to hold its own, very specific ideas about on-screen depiction.

Bob Marley: One Love, the new movie about the late reggae superstar that’s produced by Marley’s widow, Rita, along with some of his children, is a biopic that does seem to know whom it’s for, which isn’t a point in its favor. The film is directed by Reinaldo Marcus Green (King Richard) and stars Kingsley Ben-Adir as Marley, who does his best with the role despite not really looking or sounding much like the real Marley. (Within the past four years Ben-Adir has played Malcolm X, Barack Obama, and Bob Marley, quite the triptych of historical figures.) Lashana Lynch plays Rita and steals the film in every scene she’s in, even if the movie’s script fails to elevate her character past the archetypical suffering-yet-supportive wife of a genius.

Rather than taking a cradle-to-grave approach to Marley’s life, One Love instead focuses on a single period of Marley’s career, his self-imposed exile to England in the aftermath of the 1976 attempt on his life at his home in Kingston, during which time he recorded Exodus, the 1977 LP that marked his full breakthrough into global superstardom. The film opens with the assassination attempt, after which we’re quickly whisked to London, where the film depicts Marley writing most of Exodus’ songs in a cloying series of “eureka!” moments that tend to populate movies of this kind. Snippets of Marley’s classic “Redemption Song” surface as a recurring musical motif in the film, and in one of the last scenes, we see Marley performing the song for his awestruck family in a sappy flourish that’s also anachronistic. (By most accounts, Marley didn’t write “Redemption Song” until 1979.) Periodically we’re treated to a series of flashbacks of the singer’s earlier life, a clichéd device that this movie could have used more of: Brief forays into Marley’s conversion to Rastafarianism are surprisingly well done, and a scene of a teenage Marley and the Wailing Wailers performing “Simmer Down” at Coxsone Dodd’s Studio One is the best moment in the film.

One Love is an inspirational tale about a Great Man who used music to unite the world, one that reduces one of the most consequential and complicated artists of the 20th century to a walking fount of genial aphorisms, the guy who suggested we all get together and feel all right. As such, the film indulges a decadeslong public appetite for a particular imagining of Marley that his estate now seems depressingly eager to feed. It’s been 42 years since Marley died of a rare form of melanoma at age 36, and I’m not sure there’s a musician who’s more literally iconic: Go to any commercial district in any part of the world and within minutes you’ll find an opportunity to buy something bearing Marley’s likeness. In the United States, Marley has been a staple of dorm-room walls for generations: The casual and underinformed co-optation of Marley by American bro culture has even inspired a recurring meme in which Marley’s name is erroneously affixed to an image of Jimi Hendrix.

To a certain brand of musical cynic, Marley has become the embodiment of a musician whom people own posters and T-shirts of but don’t actually listen to, which isn’t totally fair to most of the owners of those posters and T-shirts. Some of Marley’s music is still enormously popular: His 1984 greatest hits compilation Legend is currently enjoying its 820th week on the Billboard 200, a position it will likely maintain for the foreseeable future given One Love’s early, strikingly robust box-office projections. The only album that’s spent longer on the chart is Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.

But in the pop-cultural imagination, Legend has completely eclipsed everything else Marley ever released. The album has sold more than 15 million copies in the United States alone, while no other Marley LP has sold even 1 million stateside. From a purely mathematical standpoint, this would indicate that for many fans, Legend is the first and only Marley album they’ll ever listen to. I’m not sure there’s another greatest hits compilation that has played such an outsize role in the public definition of an artist.

Legend is a fine little collection, but the idea that it’s some sort of one-stop synopsis of Marley’s career is absurd. For starters, 10 of its 14 tracks date from the period of 1977–80, a four-year time frame that represents the height of Marley’s global popularity but is a relatively minuscule cross section of a staggeringly prolific, nearly two-decade-long recording career. (Five of Exodus’ 10 tracks are included on Legend, which I suspect is one reason that One Love is so invested in the album’s significance.)

This period also coincides with a time when Marley’s music seemed to take a step back from revolutionary politics, a tack that may have been driven at least in part by the aforementioned assassination attempt. The Marley canonized on Legend is not the Marley who sang “I feel like bombin’ a church/ Now that you know that the preacher is lyin’ ” or who called for “burnin’ and a-lootin’ tonight … burnin’ all illusion tonight” or declared that “Rasta don’t work for no CIA.” The dominance of Legend in the U.S. is particularly striking when one considers that Marley’s highest-selling album in this country during his lifetime was 1976’s Rastaman Vibration, which peaked at No. 8 on the Billboard 200 and includes such overtly political tracks as “Crazy Baldhead,” “Rat Race,” and “War.” Legend doesn’t include a single track from Rastaman Vibration, instead opting for romantic fare like “Is This Love” and “Waiting in Vain” and feel-good anthems like “One Love/People Get Ready” and “Jamming.” (For an excellent deep dive into the history and legacy of Legend, I recommend this article from the Ringer earlier this week.)

One Day’s Director Has No Regrets About the Movie’s Controversial Ending

Legend’s preeminence has helped turn Marley into the musical equivalent of a tourist destination, at which One Love is just one more cozy attraction. This is worse than a shame, because the real Bob Marley was one of the most remarkable musical talents of the 20th century. As a songwriter, he was so prolific that music seemed to pour out of him, a quality that has sometimes led to a naturalization of his gifts that veers into exoticizing primitivism. (One Love certainly partakes in this.) But rather than being some carefree savant, Marley was a fiercely disciplined and ambitious artist from the very beginning. He wrote and recorded his first single, “Judge Not,” in 1962 at the age of 16, and it remains an astonishing debut, an effortlessly catchy melody sung by a voice that sounds both nervous and supremely confident in a way that only a teenager can manage.

By the time he signed to Island Records in 1972 and began his ascent to international superstardom, Marley had already written a lifetime’s worth of great songs. He had a preternatural ear for hooks and crafted songs that were ready-made hit records, three-minute gems of perfectly crystalized musical ideas. As a singer, his indelible tenor rasp and thrillingly improvisational style were the byproducts of an extraordinarily well-honed sense of intonation and time. And during the 1970s, he fronted what might have been the best band on the face of the earth, grounded in the peerless rhythm section of drummer Carlton Barrett and bassist Aston “Family Man” Barrett, the latter of whom died earlier this month at age 77. (Aston’s son and namesake, an accomplished musician in his own right, plays his father in the film.)

One Love doesn’t know how to begin exploring this artist and his art in any way that even begins to be interesting. Instead it just feeds back the same sanitized and saccharine idea of Bob Marley to the same audience who has been eating that up for generations. It’s a movie about a poster. Over the end credits of One Love, archival performance clips of Marley flash onto the screen, and for a few moments we’re treated to sounds and images that are infinitely more magnetic and thrillingly alive than anything we’ve seen over the preceding 100-ish minutes. That Bob Marley, and the extraordinary body of music he left behind, is still out there for those who go listening for it, but this movie isn’t where you’ll find him."

[moon-fics]

A/n: I love this request because I love mafia AUs!! I sadly couldn't come up with any ideas as an actual fic, so I made headcanons for you to enjoy anyway!

Request: Hii, I hope you are having a good day! Can I request one with the mob! tom holland × reader where tom is really protective of his private life and everyone thinks he is non-committal and only hooks up for one night but actually, he has been with the same girl since he was 15 and they just get more in love every day 🥺🫶

Tom HATES sharing his personal life with the public

He will do everything in his power to keep his life private, especially from the newspaper

He only does it because anything can and will be used against him by many people who could easily take him down

So, even though the public yearns for details about him, nothing is really confirmed

There have been rumors that he sleeps around or can't keep a girl for more than a week

That's far from true bc this man has one love and it is you

He's been in love with you since high school before he became the powerful man he is today

Even though he can be intimidating and brutal, you know he's still the same dork that you met back in freshman year

He will do anything for you and only you

He refuses to let the tabloids know about your connection to him

He absolutely adores you in every way to the point where he won't denounce the rumors just to keep your identity hidden

He honestly doesn't mind being called a player because you both know he's far from it

At some point, the rumors about him sleeping around did bother you, but he quickly assured you that they'll never be true

Now, him keeping your private does not mean he's never in public with you

Quite the opposite, he's almost always in public with you

He just has people on the inside of the newsroom who do everything to stop headlines from running

This may seem like it's the opposite of privacy, but the public only gets information about him through the news

He hires people to block any photos that contain you and him, even at premieres or dinners

Not one paparazzi has successfully gotten a photo of him and you together

Even though he worries for your safety he would never lock you up and keep you inside

He enjoys going out with you, knowing he has other people keeping your identity safe

Not to mention his bodyguards admire you and are just as dedicated to protecting you

At the end of the day, you laugh at the rumors with him, pretending to catch him cheating and acting out dramatic scenes you saw in movies

[euphoricdreamsidreamabout]

A Dance with Death (Mob!Tom Holland X reader)

Teaser

Being enemies as well as allies with the best mob leader out there had to result in random, unwanted run-ins and conversations, at least for you, the daughter of the biggest Mob leader in London. However, when both of your mobs are at risk ,you wouldn’t let some decade old feelings take over, right ? But can hating someone so much lead to love ?

[maple-the-awesome]

Heir ||

Pairing: Mob! (any) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 2,825

Requested by Anonymous: Okay so can u write (or if u don't take request can we just discuss?) about mob! Peter Parker when the reader is pregnant?? Like he'd be absolutely hyperactive and take care of her every second. Not leaving her for a sec alone and then taking all his work into his office at home bc he just wants to stay near to her. Constantly spoiling her and buying her everything she is craving, baby proofing the whole house, constantly having sex bc she is extra horny and then of course talking to her baby bump when he thinks she's fast asleep!! Just . So. Cute. I'm always a sucker for pregnant reader stories. Here you go 💜 Warning: Suggestive/Explicit content (nothing too detailed, but the request does involve a horny pregnant reader and Peter's a deliverer, sooo~)

Marvel Masterlist 🖤 Fandom Masterlist 🖤 Requests

Peter Parker, a young tycoon from upscale New York who likes to attend the most lavish of social gatherings and only owns what is considered 'top of the line' be it clothes, jewelry, houses, cars - you name it, but that is, of course, a part of his carefully constructed public image. Hidden in secret and shadows, his name is one often whispered as a form of jinx from the mouths of the criminal class. They understand the red ink Mr. Parker's name is written with; they know the true nature of his work.

Peter has quite the reputation, to put it short. Extortion, loan sharking, and corruption of public officials can be considered the 'nicer' side of his dealings, although seeing the exact lengths most individuals go through just to avoid a frown upon his face, it can easily be concluded that he's perfectly willingly to go much further if business calls for it.

He's headstrong and cold meaning that, once he sets his mind to something, there is no convincing him otherwise unless a certain voice is to plead it. There is a voice that can speak louder than his all by a mere breath against his ear; a sound sweet enough to poison his every thought, shatter his iron will, and remove that fearsome reputation of his like a form of temporary baptism.

For you, his precious wife, there is only 'Peter', a loving husband so devoted to the one who holds his heart that he would remove mountains if you preferred the view, carve the earth until it's hallow if you desire a gown of rare gems, and set fire to all of New York just to see your face shine in the golden flames. For you alone, Peter will take a knee, being whatever pleases you, although at the moment, all you ask is that he accepts defeat.

It's quite amusing really. Within the years of your marriage, you've heard countless accounts about how savage and gruesome your dear husband is; the wolf from fairy tales or, more fitting to his nickname, a spider haunting the dreams of those with severe arachnophobia. You'd be more inclined to believe such stories if not for how adorable he currently looks, his legs sprawled out across the floor as he struggles to put together the complex design yet remains very adamant that he will not be accepting defeat against a pile of rosewood.

You've been here watching the scene for well over an hour now, sitting rather comfortably yourself in a new rocking chair while snuggled up in an equally young silk blanket, soft cotton pajamas, and wool socks with a warm mug of ginger tea housed in your hands.

Without anything else to truly do and knowing full well any offers of assistance will continue to be denied (you've tried), you have taken to either sitting or pacing about the room every now and again to stretch your aching back, but you make sure to do the latter sparring since you've discovered the more you move, the more you increase poor Peter's worry.

The record so far is five minutes before your husband is hovering at your side, fussing like a British nanny over something: do you need anything, princess? Medicine? Another blanket? Is it too cold in here? Too warm? Perhaps it's best if you go lay down or shall we go for a walk in the garden for some fresh air?

It's amusing to you how doting Peter can be - well, how much more doting he can be, is a better way of putting it. Truth be told, he has always been an attentive husband, existing at your every beckon and call despite his own busy work schedule.

Each morning, you awake to kisses down your collarbone and a freshly picked flower next to your plate at breakfast. Throughout the day, he spares every possible second that he can for your request, becoming all yours during those breaks no matter how short. Do you want to read together in the library? Eat lunch in the garden if he has that much time? Peter has never been against any suggestion regardless of how rushed he may be in the moment, going as far as to sneak into the nearest closest for…Well, you can probably use your imagination for that part.

Peter prides himself on rarely letting you down, pained too deeply by your tears and too afraid of your shouts (a funny thought considering what his job entails). Fortunately, your fights are few and far inbetween, his anger reserved for work alone, not his precious wife who, quite honestly, is the only good thing to enter his hectic life aside from May and even Ben when he was still around - Oh, and also that little life you currently carry within your womb; they’re a fairly recent add on to Peter's list of loved ones.

You remember it like just yesterday when you had first told him the news. You, yourself, had been a nervous wreck despite having been actively trying for children. All of your preparation and desires seemed to instantly go out the window in that moment, replaced by the weight of the world upon your shoulders as you stared at that little white test confirming for certain that you are, in fact, carrying the weight of a little world inside of you.

Pregnant? Are you really ready to do this? Can you really be a good mom or will you somehow mess it up? What if Peter was only pacifying you when he offered to fulfill your desire of bearing his children? What if he wasn't being honest then and actually detests the idea of children running around his mansion, screaming and creating messes as children typically do? So many worries plagued your mind that day, all put to rest once receiving Peter's true reaction.

It took him a minute - actually four - where he just stared at you, letting the wheels turn inside his head while carefully asking if you were being serious. Then, within seconds - which is no exaggeration -, you were within his arms, your face soon cupped in his hands as he tearfully asked you the same question again followed by giddy laughter when you confirmed it a third time.

Your husband has always been doting, however now that you hold his child - his heir - this behavior has been increased tenfold. You officially bear double the importance to him, thus any harm that may befall you would become his downfall leading to him collapsing in on himself like a dying star (excuse his dramatics). Therefore, Peter has amplified his protective and attentive behaviors, becoming a hyperactive presence in your life that can be admittedly overwhelming at times.

It began plainly enough with him moving all of his work to the home office where he could be within range of your calls for every second of the day. Parties, business trips, and anything else that would require traveling became forbidden, not that he ever cared much for them anyways. Security had also been added upon with Peter triple checking all interviews and background checks which were usually entrusted to his right-hand man, Miles, who has never steered him wrong before, but one can never be too careful.

While not bad in the beginning, Peter’s anxieties soon became suffocating. His innocent research into all things parenthood soon started viewing every piece of advice or recommendations as holy. The doctor said too much of something isn't good to eat? Then you won't taste a grain! There can be germs around the mansion that cause you illness? Everything must be washed! Everything! Oh, and the mansion must be entirely baby proof! Each corner, every nook and crank - Nothing left to chance! Simply put, Peter doesn't want to take any chances, treating you as if you're some sort of ticking time bomb which is, in a way, true given your horrendous mood swings at times.

For a while there, it felt that Peter was coming to you everyday with something new he wanted to try. Playing certain music to help the baby's development or drafting a new meal plan that gets rid of some of your favorites because a certain ingredient isn't 'good for you'. Being currently drained due to a changing body, you’ve been in no mood for Peter's 'crowding', and the meal thing had been your final straw. He unfortunately learned this the hard way when you finally lost your patience resulting in a full hour of shouting at him then another sobbing your apologies. 

After that day, Peter has backed off a little. He still spends every night reading parent books which are left stacked at his bedside, but he's much more reasonable with his suggestions and has learned to not believe everything he reads, usually running it through Aunt May first just to be sure he won't get his head ripped off if he brings the information to you (yeah, you're not quite sure he's recovered from the trauma of your scolding, poor baby). 

Of course, you can never truly be mad at Peter for caring, something he knows, too. Pregnancy is stressful both mentally and physically, thus it's lovely to have a husband just as willing to trek through the ugly as he is to observe the beauty. 

As it's hopefully been made clear, he has no issue in spoiling you. Anything you want is yours to have. Are you craving some foreign food? He'll have it flown in or hire a special chief to prepare it just for you. Do you wish for cuddles? He'll move his schedule around the best he can to accommodate for a day in bed, snuggled in mounts of blankets as you rest comfortably in his arms. Even if you're suffering from horrible mood swings, be it awful crying or livid screaming, he will happily endure it feeling it's the least he can do in return for all his wife is doing for him.

Oh, and then there's the sex. Why hadn't anyone told you being pregnant would make you this horny? Some days, you're barely able to keep your hands off of poor Peter (not that he's actually suffering in any shape or form, quite the opposite). Of course, you blame him for it because not only did he make you this way, but he insists on being in the same room as you practically all hours of the day. How are you not to leap at him when he's sitting right there, looking all hot and sexy as he runs his hand through his hair or bites his lip in concentration while going over paperwork?

…Yeah...Peter's probably fucked you more than he's actually completed any of his work, but when your wife is sitting on top of your lap, peppering your neck in kisses and pawing at your erection all while swelling with your baby within her womb? What's a man to do?

Looking back at how perfect Peter has been, you don't think you could ever feel more confident in who you've married. He could've turned you away that first day you asked him to impregnate you, he could be doing the bare minimum without any personal inference just to keep you ‘happy’ and out of his hair, but instead, he has remained loyal to his responsibilities, going above and beyond in the name of pure love. It's enough to make you swoon (and maybe a little aroused, damn your hormones), however at the moment, you're a bit too tired to express any of it outwardly. Maybe later when you have the energy for something more physical. 

Right now, you only wish to close your eyes, enjoying the warm sun which floods through the window at just the right angle that it blankets you in the rocking chair - something you're sure Peter took into consideration when planning the layout of this nursery. Bless him indeed. 

You have zero intentions in moving, too warm and too at peace especially since the baby has finally stopped wiggling around like a little worm inside of you. Not wanting to disrupt the precious bean, you'll remain put in silence where you can both rest together.

You hear Peter give an exasperated groan from where he sits on the floor. Based on it, you're certain he must have his hands in his hair, tugging at the roots. Accompanied with the sound of him stretching his legs and the amount of time it takes him to actually stand up, you'd guess it must've been hell for his muscles to stay in such a position for so long, not that you feel that bad, only for a second at most. If you've survived seven months of your entire body aching, he can surely manage a numb feeling in his legs for a few minutes. 

He tip toes over the hurricane of wood planks, but gives a good kick to some of the screws with a hissed breath and hands placed on his hips. He'll have to ask Miles for someone who can build this damned crib for him, he doesn't have the patience to fiddle with it any longer, but at least his anger is forgotten once he looks at you. The golden sun dressed over your face, the peaceful rest of your skin and slight part of your cherry lips as you take in each breath: you’re truly the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, a fact he is constantly reminded of especially in the small moments like this.

Peter wonders if your baby will take after you. He desperately hopes so, if not in appearance than at least in personality. He hopes that whoever they end up being, it isn't anything like him. Although he was happy to take Uncle Ben's place in the business, it wasn't what Ben wanted and, now that he is going to be a father himself, Peter finally understands that.

The more he thinks of his precious child, the more certain Peter becomes that he doesn't want them to be his heir. He doesn't want them to know violence or bloodshed, lies and deceit. He doesn't want them to tell the other children at school that their daddy is their hero - to ever think such a thing in admiration because that would just be the first step down his path.

He wants them to be like you. He wants them to be kind and patient, fair and dignified. He wants their love, yes, but he also wants them to be realistic as you are - to know that what he does for a living isn't truly a good thing and that they should strive to be something more, something better. They don't need to be proud of him, but he will forever be proud of them. That's what Uncle Ben wanted for him, and while he failed on that front himself, he hopes his child can do better; he'll do better by being around to lead them down that right path. 

Kneeled in front of you, Peter whispers all these things, his hands gracing your swollen stomach as he makes a trail of endless promises to the unborn child who can’t process any of it at the moment, however that's fine; Peter will be there to remind them of his love throughout the rest of their life. 

"...I can't wait to meet them..." He hushes, pressing his lips to your stomach in a long kiss. Only a few more months and he'll be able to do the same to their forehead. He'll likely never stop either, not if he remains this drunk on admiration towards them.

You smile, blinking open your eyes to gaze down at him, "They can't wait to meet you either."

"How do you know?" He challenges playfully, leaning into your touch when your hand rests upon his cheek, always so warm to him.

"Because they kick anytime they hear your voice," you explain, letting your other hand fall onto your stomach, "They were sleeping peacefully until you started talking. Now they’re wide awake waiting for you to say more."

"I'm sorry," he doesn't look it, a delighted smile still tugging at his lips. He always apologizes, although he's far from being meaningful. Sorry that you must endure so much pain and stress, but not sorry that it's all going to be for your beloved child. Nine months in return for a life which will continue to grow and carry the best traits of you both, isn’t that a good deal?

Fortunately for your husband, you have never been truly mad, agreeing that it’ll indeed be worth it in the end. Slumping back your head against the chair, you close your eyes again and hum as you remind him, "...Peter, they're waiting for you to say more."

He beams, dropping his head lightly against your stomach where his ear can press against your covered skin as if it’ll allow him the deepest connection with the life waiting inside, "Then I will say more."

[evermorx89]

some recs of mob!tom holland series or mcu! peter parker? thankss

[peterdarlingg]

Mob!tom holland one shot is almost done as I promised!

Ngl i’m kinda scared to post it but I will anyway!

[urfav-wife]

This is Chef kisses

 leiasfanaccount648.tumblr.com you did amazing!!

Pointe Before You Shoot [Masterlist]

Single Dad!Tom x Fem!Dance Teacher!Reader (Mob!AU)

Summary: No matter where you come from, everything you were taught since you were young was for a reason. Whether it was pointing your feet in dance class or learning how to properly shoot a gun. Either way, your past seemed to define you. Can you fix the aftermath enough to shape your future into what you want it to be? Or will someone end up on the wrong side of the trigger?

Word Count: 70.4k

Warnings/Contains: Angst, fluff, cursing, violence, character death, usage of guns and knives, blood, talks of human trafficking, usage of drugs and alcohol, mob work (specified in chapters), minors committing crimes, car crashes, dance termonology (keep in mind that everything dance related is based on what I was taught as a competitive dancer).

Completed on Sept. 21st, 2020 | Edited on Jan. 7th, 2022

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