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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months ago

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Kinktober day 28

Dick Grayson + Markings (hickeys, bruises, tattoos)

Insert that one dove meme that’s like “gazing lovingly at his gigantic angry wife” but its Dick and the Reader whos a former criminal. I eat up all size difference, so, big reader :3c.

I may have had tom hardy in the back of my mind during this.

2024 kinktober masterlist

Dick loved a lot of things about his lover, the list was way too long for him to state right then and there. Hell, he could probably go on for hours about how much he loved you. He loved your personality, how you always acted grumpy and mean, but you cared so much under all the walls you had to build during your life.

He loved how big your hands were, and how they dwarfed his, and Dick wasn’t a small guy either. He loved how some of your teeth were chipped or slightly crooked from how many fights you have been in, or that one of your ears if permanently bigger than the other because of fighting. He loved how you saved your smiles for him, your real smiles and not just the crooked smirks you gave others.

He loved your muscles and how big you were, well, everywhere. From height, to width, to just bulk in general. You may not be the most flexible, but Dick is flexible enough for the both of you, so you don’t need to bend your legs or arms too wildly when you guys are together.

And most importantly, he loved your tattoos. They were kinda cheesy, in your words anyways. They clearly screamed “I got these tattoos when I was 17 and started gangbanging”, at least the first ones you got did. The ones you got later on as well as coverups have a sense of taste, at the very least they look good on you.

Dick couldn’t forget about your strength either, and how easily you left bruises on him. His all-time favourite is the shape of your fingers on his hips, knowing how easily you could move him around, fold him in half or spread his legs until you got what you wanted.

It was against all his bat training, but Dick had started wanting tattoos too because of you, something he regularly whined about just because he could. Every time he saw you wandering around the apartment in your baggy basketball shorts, or worn thin sweats, muscular tattooed torso on display. Well, Dick always made sure to whistle and appreciate the sight a little, before he would slump against your back, grope your pecs and whine about the ink in your skin.

You didn’t care much about what he did, if Dick got tattoos or not. Part of you understood the whole identifying thing about it, having been caught by cops multiple times based on the fact that you had tattoos all the way up your neck. But if that’s what he wanted, then who was Batman to stop him.

Maybe you were a bad influence, as some part of Dick always wanted to defy Bruce in one way or another if he could get away with it. And its not like a little tattoo would be hard to hide or anything, he just needed to get it done a place that most people wouldn’t look.

You weren’t a real tattoo artist, having never gotten the title or anything. But you had done enough tattoos on yourself and others to know what’s up and how to care for them, so it should be no surprise when Dick wanted you to be the one to put the tattoo on him.

All you needed to do was sit back and wait for Dick to put the stencil on and lay down on the spot you prepared. You hadn’t expected him to choose your initials for his stencil, or for him to place it on his inner thighs, near the crevice where the thigh became his hips. It was a nice spot to hide it, sure, but it was also so close to his… everything. You had a feeling hed put it on his taint if he could, and part of you almost asked only to hold yourself back.

Instead, you two got to work, Dicks leg draped provocatively over one of your broad muscular shoulders, your love rubbing his foot up and down your shoulder blades as you did quick work of the tattoo. It wasn’t anything big or difficult, what distracted you the most was Dicks twitching and squirming, or the tiny huffs and hums he let out.

“What?” Dick huffed as you looked up at him with an unamused raised brow, seeing how hard he had gotten from something as small as a tattoo. “It’s a normal bodily reaction” your lover pouted, only for you to shake your head and stand up to clean up the things you used to tattoo him, as well as wash your hands.

“Its really not. But you aren’t normal babe” you grunt, shooting Dick another unamused look as you hear the slick noise of him touching himself. Vigilantes truly had crazy stamina from your experience, even if your experience was only Dick, but he got worked up so easily and never knew when to control himself when it was just you two.

“Really?” you snort out with an upwards pull at your lips, as you pat your hands dry on a towel. “You… take your shirt off” your partner demands, his voice a tone higher than usual as his hand works himself in quick short flicks, as Dick gropes at his pecs with the other.

“Oh? I’m a dancer now?” you jab, even if you don’t mean it to sound confrontational, taking your shirt off in the meantime. You didn’t need to do more than flex and stand there, Dick seemingly putting in all the effort as he worked himself into a panting groaning mess.

Having someone so attracted to you was always a bit of a humbling and flustering experience. You knew you were attractive to certain people, but that was mainly those people into the whole “big dangerous criminal” look you had going on, even if you didn’t mean too. But it never felt the same as what Dick seemed to see in you.

He just needed to see you to get off to you, hell, some days he didn’t even need to see you and thinking was enough. If you had left bruises and hickeys on him the days before, then Dick always just needed to press at them and think about you to push himself over the edge.

Some may call it unhealthy to be so obsessed with his own boyfriend, but Dick could care less. You treated him well, fucked him so good he cried in pleasure just thinking about it, and you loved him because you wanted too and not because someone ordered it, or you wanted to use him.

It did annoy you a little to see him cumming all over his own torso, abs flexing, and jaw clenched, right after you had just cleaned him up. At least he got none of it on his new tattoo, even if you feared the sweat he must have been producing would bother it.

“You just have to help me keep and eye on it” he snickers as you lift his leg to make sure everything is as it should be, and put a cover over it so it can heal a little before Dick can walk around with it. “You can help me with something else first” you snicker, easily picking Dick up and throwing him over one of your broad shoulders, your lover picking up on where you were going quickly.

And yeah, maybe tattooing your partner was hot, or maybe it was all the hickeys and bruises you left on him, or just the fact that Dick could get off just looking at your tattoo covered body flexing. But it had gotten blood pumping for you too, and maybe you couldn’t fuck him or his thighs for a while, but Dick always seemed more than willing to offer up his mouth or pecs.

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sebastianswallows · 9 months ago

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Nobody's Darling — 1. The Road

— PAIRING: Benny Cross x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Benny comes across a girl walking alone in the middle of nowhere and offers her a ride to the nearest town. They stop at a motel.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.1k

— A/N: Hello, my dears! So yeah, I saw The Bikeriders because of Austin (and Tom Hardy) and of course I had to write something for it 😂 I've been labouring at it for the past two weeks lol This was meant to be a one-shot but it kept growing and I decided to split it into chapters. The plot is partly based on something that happened to me, namely I missed my stop and the bus drove me way out of the city before I realised what had happened 💀 Anyway, hope you enjoy it! 😘💕✨

Grey clouds floated across the sky. Fields of yellow and burnt grass rolled along like waves. A string of birds cut through the far horizon. The fading light of the sun seeped softly through the glass and warmed her cheek but she was happy to keep sleeping, caught in that special spot between awake and dreaming when her thoughts were peaceful, settled, and she could weave from them a pretty fantasy. The chill of a November evening didn’t quite make it into the bus but the windows were already fogging and the seats grew cold.

She woke up with a start when the wheels struck a hole in the ground and everything jolted.

“Where am I?” she groaned, squinting at the window. Her reflection frowned back but beyond it, she could see… nothing. She was in the middle of nowhere with only naked fields and swaying power lines around her. She checked her watch and her heart stopped.

“I should’ve been home by now. Oh no, I did not sleep through my stop,” she whispered to herself — but she did. “Wait! Driver!”

She got up and ran to the front, scrambling past all those empty seats, her jacket in one hand and purse flailing in the other. The driver gave her a bored expression as she leaned panting against the divider.

“Wait, please, I need to get off! Where are we?”

The man looked at her with all the serenity of an overworked drone in a dead-end job. He didn’t seem particularly alarmed to see her there, nor did he seem to care about her predicament.

“Halfway to the next town,” he mumbled as he started to slow down. “There’s another stop ‘bout a mile back.”

“Great…”

“Next bus comes tomorrow ‘round seven thirty.”

“Oh.”

She looked around again as if she could see something different from up here but it was all the same. The vastness of it frightened her and she half-wished she’d never woken up.

The driver pulled over at the side of the road and tilted the cap on his bald head, his teeth tight around a toothpick.

“You’ll be alright?”

“Yeah…” she said automatically. “Sure.”

He opened the door and her whole body began to tremble, the situation suddenly completely real. She gathered all her nerves and put one step in front of the other, and as soon as her feet were on the ground the bus started to move again, driving away.

The sun was dipping into a pool of pink and the birds that circled overhead were growing louder. She was alone in a darkening field with nothing in front of and behind her except for lamplight spilling yellow and pale over an empty road and dead grass all around. If she regretted getting off that bus, it was too late now.

“At least it was warm inside,” she muttered. “But I could never make it back in time for work tomorrow from the next town… Damn it.”

There was nothing left to do. She sighed to herself and started walking back. In her head, she tried to calculate how late it would be by the time she made it home but each result only scared her further.

“Best not to think about it,” she said. “Just keep walking…”

She hadn’t gone on such a hike since she was a little girl, and never far outside of town. She’d only walked through fields and meadows and the forest that stretched east. There was certainly no time for it since getting hired at the local newspaper, and she liked it that way. Her days were measured and predictable, her clothes were always clean, and nothing ever hurt her — except her back if she sat down writing for too long. She was scared now not just because she was alone and in the dark but because she’d never done a thing like this before. Her heels were unsteady on the crumbling tar and her purse felt heavy on her shoulder. Insects were singing in the grass and creatures rustled through it that she dared not think about. Were there snakes around here? Rats? She pulled her jacket tighter around herself.

After half an hour she came across the bus stop that the driver mentioned. The sign for it was half-chewed off and the wooden bench was worn and stained a sickly yellow beneath a flickering light. She considered for a moment sleeping there until the morning but then the ignominy hit her: to sleep on a dirty wooden bench under the flutter of moths and mosquitoes. To come home unwashed and stinky with her hair a mess and her stockings torn. And if any of the neighbours saw her… No. She walked past that bus stop and didn’t look back, and soon found herself surrounded by darkness again.

“You deserve it,” she muttered as she wrapped her arms around herself, her body ambling forward with none of the grace and poise she had half an hour before. “How could you fall asleep? You weren’t even that tired, and the bus ride is so noisy. You couldn’t wait another ten minutes to get home? Idiot, idiot…”

The walk back to the city was taking longer than she thought it would, and by eight o’clock she was still out there. The sky was sprinkled with stars and the wind was flitting gently through her hair and the creatures in the bushes were growing ever louder. If she weren’t so cold and terrified she might have felt exhausted. Her feet hurt and her back was bent under the weight of her purse and she hadn’t eaten since noon. But suddenly, in the distance, she saw a glint of something made of glass and metal — it was a phone booth. The joy that rushed through her wiped all her pain away and she hurried to reach it, nearly tripping. She felt halfway home as soon as she stepped inside its murky walls.

“Please work, please work, please please please.”

She picked up the receiver and held it on her shoulder as she opened the phone book and started leafing through for the nearest police station. They would be obliged to come and pick her up — that is if she could only explain where she was…

“Hello? Operator?” But no voice came from the other side. The tone was dead. “Operator?” she tried again, her voice growing shaky. “Hello? Anyone?”

As she kept tapping on the phone hook, desperate to reach someone, a bright light came peeking over the horizon from the direction she had just come from. It couldn’t have belonged to a car but whatever it was that approached her was fast and loud as all hell. She held her breath as she watched it getting bigger, brighter, closer. This was the only driver she’d seen the whole night and she was equal parts hopeful and horrified of just what it could be. After all, what kind of person would be out driving at this hour on a weekday?

She forgot about the telephone as she followed this strange light until it was close enough to blot out all the darkness. It blinded her for a moment but that thunderous rumble soon settled to a pur and it stopped on the other side of the road from her. When her eyes adjusted to the brightness she realised it was a motorcycle, thin and lean and silver.

Its rider propped himself against the ground on one long leg clad in blue jeans and reached into his pocket. He was tall and slender, his figure swathed in shadows, his motions simple but relaxed and almost elegant.

“It doesn’t work,” he said as he lit a cigarette. “Been broken for a while now.”

The flash of flame from his zippo lighter gave her a hint of his face. He was young, perhaps even younger than her, with full pink lips and a slight stubble, soft blue eyes, and a sprinkle of dirt like freckles on his face. There was a wildness to him and an air of gentleness as well, but his jacket was a dark denim and thick with patches, symbols that probably meant something to him — he must’ve belonged to some sort of “club”. She didn’t know much about bikers aside from what she read about them in the papers, but they’d always seemed to be a bunch of layabouts. Aside from drinking far too much and smoking she knew they got into trouble with the law, had fights, caused accidents, and were generally dangerous to be around.

“I’m… just trying to get to town,” she said in a wary voice.

“Well, I’m headed that way.”

She said nothing, her hand still frozen on the telephone.

“Want a ride?”

It was a tempting offer but one that made her shiver. She’d never been around a man like that, never even exchanged words with one, and everything that she expected from his kind — rudeness, lewdness, and a bad attitude — was suspiciously absent from him. He looked at her with those soft eyes, his long leg braced against the road, and waited. She should have accepted his offer, she should have just gotten on his bike and wrapped her arms around him, but… she couldn’t.

“No, thank you.”

He kept on smoking quietly and looked her up and down much as she’d done with him. She wondered what he saw… She was probably a pathetic sight and a strange kind of person to come across in such a place. When his eyes finally left her figure they strayed across the wilderness. There was nothing around them for miles, they both knew that, and other cars wouldn’t be around that road for hours.

“You know how far away you are?” he asked, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s a long walk.”

“I don’t want to…” She was about to say she didn’t want to ride all the way back with a stranger but instead said, “trouble you.”

He didn’t react at first, keeping that air of stillness about him that made her wonder what he thought. But after a few moments, he nodded and dropped the cigarette, crushed it underneath his boot, and with a leisurely motion mounted his bike once more and revved the engine up. Before she could say another word he’d already sped into the distance and left only a cloud of dust behind.

She almost felt sorry to see him go. Almost felt guilty too… She didn’t want her distrust of him to be so apparent or to cause offence, no matter what kind of a person he was. But she told herself he must’ve been a dangerous man and that she was better off alone than riding back to town with him. Well, she wouldn’t be riding back with anybody now… The telephone line was dead, just as he’d said. The wire must’ve been disconnected somewhere.

She wanted to cry. Instead, she began to walk once more, trudging through the dark.

The sky was as black as a curtain cast across a silent stage and against it lit from below the pale lights of interspersed lamps. The roaring of the bike got slowly lost in the road that lay before her and soon only her steps echoed to remind her of how alone she was. She watched the small light of the rider fade and hugged herself against the cold, holding the purse to her chest as if it could protect her. Her feet were hurting so much she worried they were bleeding and she considered taking them off until she looked down at the road and its uneven dirty tar. She closed her eyes even as she kept on walking, too tired to gaze out at the same old nothingness again.

But then she heard a roar floating on the wind and felt a tremble in her chest as if an earthquake was approaching, and when she opened her eyes again she saw that lone light making its way back to her. He seemed to ride back faster than he did as he was leaving and he reached her in no time at all. She slowed down to a stop and so did he, parking right beside her.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward, boyish way. “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. But I can’t just leave you out here. You sure you don’t want to —”

“Alright,” she said, her voice already weak and weary. She was hungry and cold and scared that she’d never make it back to town that night. Too scared to refuse his help a second time. “Just… just get me to the edge of town. I can make my own way home from there.”

If he was surprised at how quickly she accepted now, he didn’t show it. He simply moved closer to the front of his seat and made space for her behind him.

She took a deep breath and approached him carefully as if he rode a beast, not something made of metal. It looked solid and precariously thin at once and yet he straddled it confidently. The saddle looked just big enough for two. She hopped on as best she could and tried to keep her legs together but when he looked at her over his shoulder he shook his head and laughed.

“Legs on either side,” he said. “You’ll fall off if you ride like that.”

“But, my skirt…”

He looked up and down her legs and she tried not to read too much into the way his eyes had darkened.

“Roll it up,” he said in a low and soothing voice. “Don’t worry. I won’t look.”

She held her breath as she rolled her skirt up high enough so that she could throw her other leg over the side. He waited while she settled into the position and planted her feet firmly.

“Ready? Hang on,” he said as he revved the engine up. “I’ll go real slow, alright?”

“A-alright…” she said as she placed her hands timidly around his waist.

But he didn’t go slow, at least not by her standards.

It was completely different to riding in a car, more visceral and real with no windows to protect her. She let out a little scream and clung to his body more tightly than she meant to, eyes falling shut, legs tightening around his bike. He smelled of gasoline and metal and several days’ worth of sweat cooled down by the chilly autumn night but he felt so solid in her arms, so firm and steady, even as the world flashed by. Eventually, she was brave enough to rest her cheek against his back and opened her eyes to look at the vacant countryside. It was a little frightening, as she expected, but peaceful too. As she fisted her hands in his jacket, right over his heart, she tried to peek over his shoulder but could just see the side of his face, focused and relaxed, and the white circle of the headlight. Somehow, that was enough for her. His hair tickled her forehead, feeling softer than it had any right to be, and she found herself smiling. There was something base and ancient in the way he smelled, the way he spoke, even in the way he moved. It was as if he had in him the blood-memory of an ancient Knight on armoured steed galloping alone and steadfast through the fields and woods of untamed lands.

The outskirts of town were much tamer than that, however, and before long they could see the faint lights of the outermost buildings, squalid flats, and blinking advertisements. When he started slowing down she felt herself breathe a sigh of relief. It must’ve tickled the back of his neck because he bent his head forward as if to get away — or to ask for more.

“Where are we?” she asked once the noise of the motorcycle died down.

“Marshal Avenue,” he said, easing the bike to the side of the road.

She didn’t know exactly where that was, but she guessed they were on the other side of town from where she lived. All along the street were boarded-up shops, derelict flats, and liquor stores. Across from where he parked was a building that looked to be about a hundred years old. She could hardly fathom walking home at that hour, especially through a neighbourhood like that, but it was better than being in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, thank you. For the ride.”

He lit another cigarette and dismounted the bike, rolling his broad shoulders to unwind. She got off quickly, scrambling to cover her legs in the crumpled skirt before he turned around and saw her. He gave her a look over his shoulder when he heard her fussing and slowly turned around.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

“Yeah, I… I can walk from here.”

He looked at her and stayed quiet but there was something in his eyes behind that veil of smoke that made her curious about what he had to say. He simply nodded and turned toward that old building behind him. She hugged herself and looked up and down the street, waiting for him to say anything — to ask for money, to make fun of her for thinking she could make it home, to make a pass at her…

“Well, good night,” she said.

And as soon as she started walking away he spoke to her again.

“Hey, it’s kinda late. They got rooms upstairs.”

“What?” she asked, turning on her heels a bit unsteadily.

“Owner knows me,” he shrugged, crushing the cigarette beneath his boot and immediately lighting up another. “Could get you one for cheap.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to another and looked around pretending to think… but her eyes kept coming back to him. He puffed quietly away and gazed at her with no design behind those clear blue eyes, looking just as uncertain and awkward as she felt standing in the middle of the street. She didn’t want to trust him but a part of her responded in the same way that she did when she saw a homeless puppy.

“You mean, a room of my own?”

“Yeah.”

She looked from him to the large building again.

He could probably tell that she was torn because he helpfully supplied, “They got food too. Hungry?”

She was. It had been over twelve hours since she’d eaten or had anything to drink.

“I kind of am.”

“Me too,” he said. “Come on.”

#Benny Cross #The Bikeriders #Benny Cross x Reader #Benny Cross x You #Benny Cross imagine #Austin Butler #Austin Butler imagine #The Bikeriders Fanfiction #Benny The Bikeriders #sswallow;fanfics #fanfic;nobodysdarling #sswallow;made a thing

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partycatty · 1 year ago

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johnny cage > character development

reader dating johnny as he trains at wu shi academy and visits outworld

notes: i was inspired by that one fanart of johnny cage inspired by myspace era tom hardy

masterlist <3

•johnny cage sending you stupid fuckboy selfies while he's away at the wu shi academy training to be a champion (he hasn't been thru his character arc yet, he's still johnny "can't cut back" cage)

•he'd pull up his undershirt with his teeth and expose his midsection, looking into the camera with that trademark grin and wink combo that sends his fans to the moon

•sends u update pics on his build, sure, he was built before but his muscles came in even more defined with the excessive training the monks put him through

•would send you every. fucking. photo and video this man takes. ipad baby could not put that damn thing away in chapter 3 good LORD.

•"babe look" and it's a man you've never seen harnessing the power of lightning. what.

•whispered phone sex since he's in a shared room

•send you texts like "missin u like crazy rn" and "cravin that sweet ass rbn"

•of course you roll your eyes at your boyfriend's ridiculousness but you also hope he goes through a genuine development in his life. god knows he needs it.

•and when he finally returns, there's a new spark in his eye. a new, mature sparkle. he tells you about liu kang, outworld, the hourglass, kenshi, kung lao, raiden, the tarkatans, and the lin kuei. he sounds happier. he sounds inspired. and before long, he's running out of the room to make frantic phone calls about a new franchise pitch: mortal kombat.

#quick silly blurb since this man's arc isn't talked about enough #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader

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nex-has-gender-envy · 10 months ago

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Not waiting around to find out. *Draws it*

My canon now.

#venom always accidentally making eddie rlly punk #just cuz he has teeth everywhere #this was such pain to do #never again suits ever #art #fanart #symbrock #venom #nex #veddie #tom hardy #eddie brock #marvel #nex art #venom the last dance #venom 3 #venom symbiote

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hecatemoon87 · 4 months ago

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Tom Hardy Characters Needing to Wear Glasses

Part III

Johnny *smut* 18+

You walk in to see Johnny snatching a pair of glasses off his face when he sees you. Grinning widely, you saunter over to him at his designated table in the bar. "New glasses, Johnny?" You inquire as you nonchalantly sit down beside him. "Huh? Nah, I don't actually need 'em," he said, shaking his head. You were younger than he was by a few years to make a difference, but not unreasonably so. And you knew he didn't want to appear old to you. There were plenty of younger men about that was for damn sure, and he aimed to keep you as his girl.

You slip a hand into his shirt pocket and fix the glasses back upon that handsome nose of his and stare into his excruciatingly gorgeous eyes. Then let your hand come down to rest on his upper thigh, gripping him in a way that only conveyed arousal for him. "Mhmmm, makes you even more irresistible, daddy," you pur, your lips close to his as you speak. "Yeah? Maybe so irresistible I can take you to the back and you and I can get a little stress relief?" He grinned slightly, thinking you'd just laugh and blow him off. But his eyes widened as you stood up and took his hand. "Uh, really? But the club..." Johnny was about to say, "I think Brucie can handle it for a little while," you quip and turn heel.

Johnny doesn't think twice and follows you. In moments, you pull him into a storage closet, and his hands are already pushing up your dress and pulling down your panties. You kiss each other deeply while not wasting a minute, as you are undoing his belt and pulling down his zipper. His cock pops upward, erect and ready to spread open your aching pussy. He roughly grabs your outer thighs and places you on a shelf and drives himself home, sliding into you, so thick and pulsating. As you tilt your head back and moan his name, he trails hot, sloppy kisses down the nape of your neck, then removes the shoulder strap of your dress with his teeth, releasing a breast and a throbbing pink nipple which he opens his mouth and fully covers.

You are putty in his hands and whimper for more as he drills you in the storage closet. All the while, those gosh darn glasses are still on his face, those trouble some little things. "You like that, huh? You like a real man taking care of ya, not some fucking boy out there?" You spread your legs wide, "mhmm yeah, baby, make me know who to come home to," you whisper as he speeds up and finishes.

He tenses and moans sexily and then lets your legs go. You hop off the shelf and adjust your clothing. Johnny does the same, and he brings you close and smooths back your hair on both sides and clasps your face gently. "You alright? I didn't get too rough?" You giggle. He always asks that after a bit of intense sex. "Yes, I'm fine." "Good, now I gotta go sort out the club dues in that damn notebook, so I need to wear my glasses. Try not to get too hot and bothered before I get you home to do you properly. " You shiver with arousal from him saying "do you properly." "Yes, Johnny

#tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #the bikeriders #Johnny

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siremasterlawrence · 1 year ago

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My Personal Virtual Transition

I won a weird competition to use a Spiralistix virtual reality A+ glasses at the laboratory I am assigned to go to and I pack my bags to head to London when I am greeted by a the limo driver.

The limo is rather bare all that I see is a less then twin like bed I lay down in when a pair of the goggles pop down and I place them on my head instantly a light flashes in my eyes.

I fall deep a sleep as my mind transfers over to the mainframe of the device leaving me in a pitch black room and I am left in darkness until a ball of light appears filing up the whole space.

The ball projects a image of a blank virtual male leaving me at a loss except I saw Tom Hardy in the ball showcasing him at some major celebrity event in a dashing suit I can only imagine.

Next thing I know suddenly I am falling in to a deep sleep body, mind and soul are soon transferring in to the ball all of sudden I am hit with a shock appearing at the event and I see it.

Crowds screaming as they are surrounding me, more hands reaching out to grabbing me too and pulling left, right, up, down and center until my eyes land on the glass door and window.

I am now literally in control of actors super sexy and hot ass mother fuckers body in the midst of the spectacle and I decide to play along with it taking his finger licking it and messing his hair up.

I flash a bright smoke showcasing my teeth then make my way down the red carpet my hands are in air and waving it to the sea of massive amounts crowds who are lusting after me.

I slap my ass hard while making a hot sizzle sounds, then make gun signal in my hand and shoot upward and make a weird facial expression as I ditch my wife to have some old fun.

Taking a second I sneak off to the private bathroom of the hotel locking the door a bit and start to undress my self slowly as I lay my cell on to the counter as it records my every movement.

Doing a sexy dance routine just live stream for everyone to see declaring that I am hot ass mess and I need to give myself to some one and he has no idea I am about to make him mine.

I grab my cock starting to pump it creating a heavy undulating movements as I I scream, howl, and shout in pain and pleasure before I cum and I feel the horror of Tom from inside of my body.

“Time to clean up this mess!”

“God! Look at this face “

“I am about to hit some pussy and ass”

“Yeah! I am talking about you bitch”

“Oh Stop! You are embracing this “

“I can feel your heart racing “

“Do not ignore me”

“Or deny my”

“This is my body now “

“Anyone let’s go “

“Hello everyone!”

“Let’s fucking party “

“Hey babe”

“Let’s dance “

“Are you ok Tom?”

“Yeah? By the way”

“Huh?”

“I want a divorce! Sorry babe! Bye”

I call for my limo, calls hotel to set up a room for me and we are off as they park and I am heading in to my hotel room disrobing me of my clothes stripping till my underpants as it all leaves me naked.

I stand in the mirror soon enough I see his reflection looking back at me with anger is ranging on and waving his fist at me so he is getting closer to me as close as the mirror gets closer to me.

He stood stronger in a super height equal to mine, his arms are wide across from me now padding his arms to his body and I love it I can feel the panic in his throat and the pure surge of energy.

“This is impossible! You cannot do this.”

“I am allowed to do anything I want.”

“I chose you “

“I am in control “

“This is my will”

“I will you to obey “

“FUCK You!”

“You will be fucking “

“Some ass”

“You evil creep”

“Evil? Creep? No! No!”

“Oh Tommy! Tom…Tom”

“I am Tom Hardy”

“I am Eddie Brock”

“Asswipe”

“On a deeper level “

“I understand you “

“I am suffering with mental health too”

“I am not as confident as I should be”

“We have to exude it”

“That’s a life”

“Stop falling it “

“Enough fueling it”

“I am your Master now”

“I consume you “

“There is no freedom”

“No free will”

“I love you Tom”

The end

#tom hardy #virtual reality #vr goggles #body possession #the possessed #take over #Master Lawrence Universe

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classicmarvelera · 9 days ago

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Venom’s Evolution: From Spider-Man’s Foe to Marvel’s Most Iconic Anti-Hero Across Comics, Games, and Film

Venom, one of Marvel Comics' most enigmatic and multifaceted characters, has undergone a remarkable evolution since his inception. From his debut as a sinister alien symbiote to becoming a complex anti-hero, Venom's journey is a testament to the collaborative genius of writers and artists who have continually redefined his narrative. This article delves into Venom's rich history within Marvel Comics, his significant impact across various media, and the extensive array of merchandise that has solidified his status as a cultural icon

Genesis of the Symbiote: Secret Wars (1984)

Venom's origin traces back to Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #8 (1984), where Spider-Man acquires a sleek black costume from an alien device during a cosmic battle on Battleworld. Unbeknownst to him, this costume is a living symbiote with its own consciousness. This narrative twist introduced a new dimension to Spider-Man's character, setting the stage for future developments

Transformation into Venom: The Birth of an Icon

The symbiote's true nature unfolds in The Amazing Spider-Man #252 (1984), where it exhibits a sinister will, attempting to permanently bond with Peter Parker. Realizing the parasitic intent of the symbiote, Parker rejects it, leading to its fusion with disgraced journalist Eddie Brock. This union births Venom, a being fueled by mutual animosity towards Spider-Man, marking his full debut in The Amazing Spider-Man #300 (1988)

Architects of Venom: Key Contributors

Venom's evolution is the result of contributions from several visionary creators:

David Michelinie: Co-creator of Venom, Michelinie crafted the character's complex psychology and motivations, emphasizing the symbiotic relationship's duality

Todd McFarlane: Renowned for his dynamic artistry, McFarlane introduced Venom's menacing aesthetic, characterized by an imposing physique, elongated tongue, and razor-sharp teeth, which became defining features

Mark Bagley: Instrumental in the Venom: Lethal Protector series, Bagley's illustrations further cemented Venom's visual identity, balancing ferocity with nuanced emotion

Venom's Evolution: From Villain to Anti-Hero

Initially portrayed as a formidable adversary to Spider-Man, Venom's character arc underwent significant transformation:

Lethal Protector Era: In the 1993 miniseries Venom: Lethal Protector, Venom transitions from villain to anti-hero, relocating to San Francisco and battling greater evils, reflecting a shift towards a more nuanced character

Agent Venom: The 2011 storyline introduces Flash Thompson as the new host, portraying Venom as a government operative, adding layers of complexity and exploring themes of redemption and control

Donny Cates' Definitive Run

In 2018, writer Donny Cates, alongside artist Ryan Stegman, embarked on a seminal run that redefined Venom's mythos:

Introduction of Knull: Cates introduced Knull, the primordial god of symbiotes, expanding Venom's lore and connecting him to a cosmic narrative, enriching the character's backstory

'King in Black' Event: This crossover event sees Knull invading Earth, with Venom playing a pivotal role in the planet's defense, highlighting his evolution from antagonist to central hero within the Marvel Universe

Venom Beyond Comics: Multimedia Presence

Venom's appeal has transcended comic books, permeating various forms of media:

Video Games: Venom has been featured in numerous games, notably Marvel's Spider-Man 2 and Marvel Rivals. In Marvel Rivals, Venom's popularity is evident with the introduction of a twerk emote, reflecting his cultural impact

Film Adaptations: Tom Hardy's portrayal of Eddie Brock/Venom in Sony's Spider-Man Universe has been commercially successful. The films, including Venom (2018), Venom: Let There Be Carnage (2021), and Venom: The Last Dance (2024), have solidified Venom's status in mainstream cinema

Venom Merchandise: A Collector's Haven

Venom's iconic status is celebrated through a diverse range of merchandise:

Epic Collections: Marvel's Venom Epic Collection series compiles essential storylines, offering readers a comprehensive journey through Venom's evolution. These volumes are invaluable for both new readers and longtime fans

Action Figures and Statues: High-quality action figures and statues capture Venom's menacing presence, with intricate designs that appeal to collectors and enthusiasts

Apparel: Venom-themed clothing, including t-shirts, hoodies, and accessories, allowing fans to showcase their affinity for the character, blending style with fandom

Conclusion

Venom's trajectory from a malevolent symbiote to a multifaceted anti-hero encapsulates the dynamic storytelling that defines Marvel Comics. Through the visionary work of creators like Michelinie, McFarlane, and Cates, Venom has become a symbol of complexity and redemption. His pervasive presence across comics, films, video games, and merchandise underscores his enduring appeal and cultural significance

Get the Ultimate Venom Collection

#marvel comics #venom #eddie brock #flash thompson #david michelinie #todd mcfarlane #donny cates

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kawaiiwitchy · 10 months ago

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*in my Stefan voice* The Bikeriders has EVERYTHING: Austin Butler's biceps, Norman Reedus without any teeth, homoerotic moments, fist fights, constant smoking, Midwestern accents, a killer soundtrack, beehive hair do's, hedonism, Tom Hardy being a bad ass as usual...

#the bikeriders #austin butler #tom hardy #benny cross

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mymanreedus · 1 year ago

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You star in the film The Bikeriders (scheduled for June 2024) directed by Jeff Nichols (Mud: On the Banks of Mississippi). How did you join this project?

I was at the Cannes Film Festival and I was talking to someone without knowing that it was the director Jeff Nichols (which I love). And here, he tells me that he's making a movie called The Bikeriders. I said, "Like the book of photographer Danny Lyon?" "And he says, 'You know who it is?' I explained to him that I had prints of his home. He then offered to play in his film, which is adapted from Danny Lyon's book, which photographed a biker club. The film is about the club that started in Ohio in the '60s. As it grows and the message spreads, other motorcyclists come to see them. I'm playing a member of the Hells Angels who is from California to beat someone who is on the Ohio gang, to sum up. But I end up loving them all and celebrating with them. What would really have happened...

You're playing alongside Austin Butler and Tom Hardy in this movie...

I read the script and I said to Jeff, "There are too many beautiful guys in this movie. It's just leather, tobacco and all that. Can I try something?" And he said, "Of course." And so, I play Funny Sonny, a crazy character with rotten teeth. I had false teeth, a wig and a big beard that itched me. I hadn't met the casting yet. So the actors hadn't seen me yet with my crazy look. We were shooting in a field and I had been made up without the rest of the team. I then went down a hill on a motorcycle in front of about 100 extras. There was a plastic duck on the sleeve of the motorcycle that made it difficult to drive using my fingers. The make-up artist had these pretty pink glasses, old glasses, which I borrowed from her. I put on the glasses, but in fact, they were eyeglasses. I still kept them, and I had to cross all these extras, stop, get off the bike and walk towards Tom (Hardy), Austin (Butler) and Jodie (Comer). They were looking at me thinking, "But what the hell is he doing?" "I thought in my head, "Go it's going to be nil, or it's going to be fine." But, come on, shit. Let's try. So I got started."

Do you have any anecdotes about the film set?

The film was really fun to shoot. Jeff Nichols is a very good filmmaker and all these actors are so talented. It was cool. I was going to France, at the same time, and I was flying back and forth in Ohio to shoot The Bikeriders. I walked in the city with smashed teeth and would order cafes, just to see if I could be understood with my teeth. People were looking at me, "Oh, my God, what happened to you?" I have a five-year-old daughter and sometimes I put on the teeth of the film (which I kept) to read her a story at bedtime. It's funny.

Norman Reedus, Numero

#norman reedus #interview #the bikeriders #behind the scenes

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tomhardystories · 4 months ago

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Part 5

The night of the gala had arrived, and Jules was in her apartment wrestling with the zipper of a sleek black gown.

“I swear this dress fit better when I bought it...” she muttered, twisting in front of the mirror like a pretzel. “Does fabric shrink in closets? Is that a thing?”

Samantha, sprawled across the bed scrolling her phone, didn’t look up. “Maybe it’s all the wine you’ve been stress-drinking this week. Liquid courage adds volume, babe.”

“Thank you for that helpful observation” Jules said through gritted teeth, finally yanking the zipper closed with a triumphant gasp. She smoothed the gown over her hips and turned to Charlotte, who was fussing with her own dress in the mirror.

“You look stunning” Charlotte said, stepping back and giving Jules an approving nod. “That dress is perfect.”

“Yeah, sure” Jules said, eyeing her reflection skeptically. “At least it’s black hides wine stains, sweat stains, tears. You know, all the essentials.”

“Lovely” Miranda deadpanned from the corner, where she was battling with the clasp of a necklace. “Remind me to stay out of splash range during the toasts.”

Samantha smirked. “The real question isn’t whether Jules will spill wine; it’s who she’s planning to dazzle tonight. Or are we still holding out for a certain British movie star to miraculously show up?”

Jules rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw the back of her head. “Tom Hardy is not showing up, and I am not sitting by the phone waiting for him to swoop in and rescue me from a dull evening. We are over him. It’s ancient history.”

“Ancient?” Samantha raised a brow. “You left that voicemail like four days ago.”

“Four and a half, actually” Jules corrected automatically, then winced. “But who’s counting? I’m not hung up on the guy. He didn’t call back, big deal! I’m not in love with him or anything.”

“No” Samantha said, flipping onto her stomach with a wicked grin. “But you did try to make him your gala date.”

Jules grabbed a pair of earrings, her tone defensive. “It was a joke. A half-joke. I just thought, you know, since we kept bumping into each other at coffee shops, maybe for once we could plan to meet instead of leaving it to fate.”

“And by fate, you mean stalking his Instagram for clues about his schedule?” Charlotte teased.

Jules jabbed an earring at her. “That is slander. I don’t even have Instagram.”

“Uh-huh” Miranda said, finally clasping her necklace. “Let’s just call it what it is: desperation.”

“Desperation?” Jules scoffed, turning to the mirror. “No. It was practicality. He seemed like he’d clean up nicely for an event like this. Plus, he’s hot.”

“Practical” Charlotte said, smirking. “Nothing says romance like ‘convenient arm candy.’”

“I’m just saying” Jules replied, popping in her other earring, “it’s not like I’m sitting here writing his name in hearts on my notebooks. He was an option. I’m not hung up on him. Tonight’s about celebrating the school and looking fabulous - not British men who don’t know how to return a phone call.”

Samantha raised her glass of champagne. “Now that’s the spirit. No more brooding over Mr. Convenient.”

“Exactly” Jules said, grabbing her clutch and striking a dramatic pose. “Tonight is about me. And maybe a little about the school. But mostly me.”

Miranda grinned. “I like this version of you.”

“Agreed” Samantha added, clinking her glass against Miranda’s.

“Alright ladies” Jules announced, heading toward the door with a flourish. “Let’s go dazzle these New Yorkers. And if Tom Hardy does miraculously show up, well, he can wait in line like everyone else.”

Her friends laughed as they followed her out of the apartment. Jules felt lighter already. Whether or not Tom Hardy - or anyone else - showed up tonight didn’t matter. This night was hers, and she was going to own it, one spilled glass of champagne at a time.

The grand hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art glittered with the kind of elegance Jules usually only associated with the Oscars or movies where everyone mysteriously knows how to waltz. Crystal chandeliers hung like overpriced disco balls, casting a golden glow over the crowd of New York’s finest. Educators, philanthropists, and city officials mingled like they’d been born clutching champagne flutes, their laughter tinkling off the impossibly high ceilings.

Jules walked into the gala flanked by her friends, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte, like some sort of ragtag, overdressed girl gang. She adjusted the neckline of her sleek black gown for the third time, muttering under her breath “Just stay put, will you?”

“This is... impressive” Miranda said, pausing mid-step on the grand marble staircase to take it all in.

“Not bad” Samantha replied, already plucking a flute of champagne from a passing tray with the precision of someone who’d done this a thousand times. She took a sip and smirked. “Let’s see if their PR team can live up to all this glitter. If I’m not crying during the speeches, they didn’t do their job.”

Jules snorted. “I’ll be sure to tell them that while I’m up there.”

“Oh, you should” Samantha said, deadpan. “Really let them know.”

“You’ll do great” Charlotte interjected, her tone warm and supportive as always. She placed a hand on Jules’ arm, looking like the human embodiment of a motivational quote. “This is your moment. You’ve worked so hard for it.”

Jules gave her a tight smile, though her stomach was already threatening to stage a rebellion. Yes, it was her moment, right up there with the time she accidentally tried to pay for groceries with a library card. Thrilling and surreal, sure, but mostly terrifying.

They descended into the main reception area, weaving through clusters of beautifully dressed people. Jules caught sight of a live string quartet playing in the corner, their bows moving in perfect harmony. Waiters floated by with trays of bite-sized food that looked far too fancy to eat.

“Oh, look” Miranda whispered, nudging Jules and nodding toward a waiter. “Tiny food on tiny plates. So much effort for a single bite. It’s basically art.”

“Art I could eat a hundred pieces of” Jules muttered, snatching a mini tartlet off a passing tray. She stuffed it in her mouth before realizing that was probably not how classy people operated.

As they moved further into the room, Jules scanned the crowd, trying to focus on the energy of the event rather than the growing nerves gnawing at her. She recognized a few faces - colleagues, city officials she’d worked with, and teachers from her school. All people she probably should greet. Later. After another tartlet.

Suddenly, Samantha grabbed her arm. “Don’t look now” she whispered, her grin wide and conspiratorial, “but I think that’s the mayor by the bar. Should we introduce ourselves?”

Jules rolled her eyes. “By we, you mean should I introduce you? Go ahead, Sam. Tell him about your groundbreaking PR empire and your plans for world domination. I’ll stay here and pretend I know what I’m doing.”

Samantha raised her glass in salute. “Love you for this” she said before strutting off, her heels clicking like she was auditioning for a high-fashion runway.

Miranda leaned in closer as the mayor got ambushed by Samantha. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been scanning the room like you’re expecting someone. Or hiding from someone.”

Jules hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m not expecting anyone. I just... I don’t know. It’s a big crowd.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, clearly not buying it.

Truthfully, Jules wasn’t looking for anyone in particular. Well, okay, maybe she was. But only in a general sense. Like, maybe a handsome stranger who’d sweep her off her feet, or a former flame who’d regret all his life choices. Or, fine, maybe Tom Hardy, even though she was totally over that whole situation.

The string quartet played on, waiters kept circulating, and Jules let herself relax, just a little. At the very least, she still had half a glass of champagne, one functioning heel, and an army of tartlets to get her through the night.

As the evening unfolded, Jules found herself swept into an endless parade of conversations with donors and city officials. There were congratulations on her school’s success, polite questions about her future plans, and one slightly terrifying moment when a city councilman leaned in far too close to explain his thoughts on public education reform, while holding a canape that seemed determined to escape his grip.

She smiled, nodded, and occasionally muttered things like, “Absolutely, so important!” and “Oh yes, equity!” with just enough conviction to avoid follow-ups.

On the bright side, she managed to dodge all awkward encounters with ex-boyfriends, meddling reporters, or anyone likely to ask about her still totally normal and not at all embarrassing voicemail to Tom Hardy. The food helped - a lot. Mini lobster rolls that melted in her mouth, truffle risotto bites that were almost better than wine, and a dessert tray that might as well have been sent straight from heaven. Jules mentally calculated how many she could eat before someone noticed.

At one point, she found herself at the edge of the crowd, clutching a glass of sparkling water and trying to remember how to breathe. She stared out at the sea of faces - confident people, laughing and gesturing like they’d been born at galas. They even held their champagne glasses in that perfect, nonchalant way that Jules could never quite master.

“See?” she muttered to herself, sipping her water. “You don’t need a date. You’re fine. Totally fine. Tom Hardy who?” She let out a quiet, overly forced laugh, then immediately stopped because a waiter glanced at her like she might need help.

She shook her head, banishing the thought. Tom wasn’t here—of course he wasn’t. And that was fine. Totally fine. Fine like this dress that’s trying to suffocate me.

“Jules, come on!” Samantha’s voice jolted her out of her spiral. She turned to see her friend striding toward her, looking radiant and exasperated. “They’re calling you to the stage!”

“Oh God, already?” Jules whispered, as if the award committee could hear her panic. She gulped, nearly spilled her drink, then handed the glass off to a passing waiter with the elegance of someone pawning off a ticking bomb.

“Right, yes, stage. Got it” she said, straightening her posture and smoothing her dress, which had suddenly decided it was too tight in the wrong places.

As she followed Samantha to the front of the room, Jules tried to channel every movie scene she’d ever watched of strong, confident women striding to their destiny. But in her head, all she could think was: Don’t trip. Don’t sweat. Don’t... oh god, is that shrimp in my teeth?

She squared her shoulders, adjusted her dress again for good measure, and plastered on a smile. This was it. Her moment. A room full of New York’s finest, all here to celebrate her.

And if she got through it without accidentally thanking Tom Hardy in her speech? That would be a win.

Jules stepped onto the stage, her heart pounding so hard she was convinced the mic might pick it up. The spotlight hit her face like the world’s brightest interrogation lamp, and she instantly regretted not powdering her forehead one last time. She adjusted the microphone, which made an obnoxious squeaking noise, then froze, awkwardly smiling as the sound echoed across the room.

“Good evening, everyone” she began, her voice cracking just slightly. She cleared her throat and tried again, her tone more confident this time - barely. “Wow. This is... this is a lot of people. So many brilliant, accomplished, intimidatingly fabulous people.” She laughed nervously, realizing she hadn’t blinked in at least 15 seconds.

“I mean, honestly, it’s a bit overwhelming. But, you know, I work in education, so I’m used to tough rooms. Like, uh... have you ever faced twenty five-year-olds on a Monday morning? No? Well, let me paint you a picture—it’s 8:00 a.m., you’ve got coffee spilled down your blouse, they’re all buzzing from weekend sugar highs, and one of them’s already crying because someone said Pikachu isn’t real. Terrifying. And that’s just the first five minutes.”

The audience erupted into laughter, and Jules allowed herself a relieved grin. Okay. Maybe she could pull this off.

“In all seriousness, though” she continued, her hands gripping the podium like it might bolt for the exit, “I am deeply honored to accept this award tonight. It’s... well, it’s surreal, really. When we started the school, I thought, wouldn’t it be great to teach people languages AND somehow not go bankrupt? That was the dream. And, uh, I’m thrilled to say we’ve accomplished at least half of that!”

The crowd roared with laughter again, and Jules could feel her nerves beginning to fade. She even spotted Samantha in the front row, giving her a thumbs-up and mouthing: You’re nailing it.

“But truly...” Jules said, her tone softening “we started the school with one simple idea: to create a place where people could not only learn a new language but also feel like they belonged. Because language isn’t just about grammar rules or vocab lists - it’s about connection. And in a city as gloriously messy and diverse as New York, connection is everything. Well, that and knowing how to order a decent bagel.”

The audience chuckled warmly, and Jules gave a little shrug. “I’d like to thank my incredible team for making this all possible. They are brilliant, hardworking, and shockingly tolerant of my tendency to accidentally schedule meetings at 2:00 a.m. instead of 2:00 p.m. because I can’t read a digital clock. Honestly, they deserve this award more than I do.”

She paused, glancing at her friends, who were grinning and nodding like proud parents.

“And finally” she said, her voice a little steadier now, “thank you to everyone here tonight for supporting education in this city. It’s not just about textbooks or classrooms; it’s about creating a future where everyone gets a chance to succeed. So, here’s to that future.”

The audience broke into applause, cheering and whooping as Jules stepped back from the mic. She gave a polite nod, almost tripped over her own heel, and quickly exited the stage, her cheeks burning.

Backstage, Samantha was waiting, her arms crossed and a wide grin on her face. “You killed it!” she said, handing Jules a glass of champagne.

Jules sighed in relief, taking a sip. “I’m pretty sure I said Pikachu wasn’t real, though. Someone’s kid is going to hate me forever.”

“You’re fine” Samantha said, clinking their glasses together. “And by tomorrow, everyone here will be asking if you’re available to host their next event.”

Jules smiled. Maybe she didn’t need to be perfect. She just needed to be her - and that, apparently, was enough.

Jules slipped through the crowd like a woman on a mission, muttering, “Sorry, just need some air...” to anyone who tried to intercept her. She wasn’t sure if her hands were shaking from the speech or the sheer, primal need for nicotine. Probably both.

Finally, she found the terrace, blessedly quiet and bathed in the cool glow of city lights. The crisp evening air hit her face, and she exhaled dramatically, pulling a slightly crumpled cigarette from her clutch. There it is, she thought, fumbling for her lighter. Her savior.

“Nice speech.”

The voice nearly made her drop the cigarette. She turned, wide-eyed, to see none other than Tom Hardy leaning against the railing like he’d stepped out of some moody cologne ad. Black suit, slightly loosened tie, and, of course, the signature smirk that should’ve come with a health warning.

Jules blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “What, not happy to see me?”

She finally got the lighter to work, taking a long drag to steady herself. “Oh, thrilled. Honestly. Just one more thing to add to the ‘What Is My Life’ file.”

“Glad I could help” he said, his grin widening. He pushed off the railing, strolling toward her like he owned the entire terrace, and maybe the planet. “Didn’t want to bother you before your big moment. Figured you had enough to worry about.”

“How thoughtful” she said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. She took another puff, blowing smoke into the chilly night air. “Didn’t think you’d show up at all, to be honest.”

“Neither did I” he admitted, hands sliding into his pockets. “But... here I am.”

She tilted her head, giving him a skeptical look. “So, what, you just happened to get my message?”

He shrugged, all casual coolness. “Eventually. You know how it is - busy schedule, running into fans, saving puppies, that sort of thing.”

“Of course” she said, rolling her eyes. “The glamorous life of a world-famous actor. Must be exhausting.”

“You’d be surprised” he said, flashing her a grin. “But seriously, Jules, you were great up there. Funny, sharp... presentable. Rare combination at these things.”

“Presentable?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Wow, stop, you’re making me blush.”

Tom laughed, leaning on the railing beside her. “You know what I mean. Most speeches at these events are, like, ‘Thank you for the award, insert inspirational quote, blah blah, everyone claps.’ Yours? People actually paid attention. You’re... refreshing.”

She snorted. “Refreshing? What am I, a cold beer?”

“More like whiskey” he said, his tone playful but his eyes sincere.

Jules let out a laugh before she could stop herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe” he said, the smirk softening. “But I mean it. What you’re doing with your school, it’s amazing. You should be proud.”

Her laughter faltered, replaced by something warmer. “Thanks” she said quietly, flicking ash from her cigarette. “That actually... means a lot.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the muffled sounds of the gala behind them and the city lights stretching endlessly in front. Jules glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, curiosity bubbling up despite her better judgment.

“So...” she said, tilting her head, “what made you come tonight? Surely there were better parties with more interesting people to attend.”

Tom turned to her, his gaze steady and, annoyingly, very distracting. “Your message, obviously” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You’ve got a way of getting under people’s skin, Jules. It’s hard to ignore.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the fact that her cheeks were definitely heating up. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head. It’s already enormous.”

“Too late” he said, grinning as if she’d just proven his point.

Jules took a final drag of her cigarette, stubbing it out under the heel of her shoe with the determination of someone squashing a spider. She glanced at Tom, who was still leaning against the terrace railing like he was posing for a perfume ad. He looked so effortlessly casual that it was borderline offensive.

“You know” she said, smoothing down her dress, which was clinging in all the wrong places after her public-speaking sweat fest, “I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

Tom smirked, because of course he did. “Tired of being the star of the show?”

“Something like that.” she replied, crossing her arms and staring dramatically at the skyline, as if the Empire State Building might swoop in and save her from this conversation. “I’ve done the whole speech thing, shaken hands, smiled for the cameras. I think I’ve reached my limit for adulting tonight.”

“Good” Tom said, straightening his jacket. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jules turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “Let’s? As in we? As in you are coming with me?”

He nodded, his smirk only growing. “Exactly.”

She snorted, half-laughing, half-choking on her skepticism. “Okay, let’s just pretend for a second I entertain this idea, how, exactly, are we getting anywhere? You don’t even know where I live.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can direct me.”

“That’s not the point!” she said, throwing her hands up. “The point is, this is... this is ridiculous! Don’t you have more important people to talk to? Like, I don’t know, a senator or some billionaire philanthropist?”

Tom shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’ve done enough schmoozing for one night. Besides, you’re more fun than anyone in there.”

That made Jules stop in her tracks. Her brain short-circuited as she tried to process the compliment. “I... uh...” was all she managed before her sense of self-preservation kicked back in. She shook her head and gave a forced laugh. “Well, you have terrible taste in company, but sure. Why not?”

Tom nodded toward the terrace doors, and before Jules could rethink every decision she’d ever made, she was following him out through a quieter exit. The noise of the gala faded as they stepped onto the street. Jules glanced around, expecting a sleek town car or maybe a driver in a fancy hat waiting nearby.

What she saw instead was a motorcycle. A gleaming, black motorcycle.

“Hell no” she muttered, stopping dead in her tracks.

Tom grinned, already pulling on a leather jacket like this was some kind of Hollywood audition. “What? Never been on one before?”

“Absolutely not” Jules said, folding her arms. “And I’m not starting tonight. Do you see this dress?” She gestured down at the fitted black gown that was clinging for dear life. “It’s not exactly motorcycle chic.”

Tom laughed, unfastening a helmet from the back of the bike. “Relax. I’ll go slow.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He stepped closer, holding the helmet out to her like he was offering her a poisoned apple. “Trust me. You’ll love it.”

“Trust you?” she repeated, laughing hysterically. “You’re the man who didn’t call me back for a week. I’m supposed to trust you with my life?”

Tom’s grin only widened. “It’s more like four and a half days. And yes.”

Jules groaned, grabbing the helmet from him. “Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you forever. And I’m going to be Annabelle. I’ll ruin all your movies.”

“Deal” Tom said, clearly trying not to laugh.

What followed was a humiliating display of Jules trying to climb onto the bike without ripping her dress, breaking her dignity, or flashing the entire street. She twisted awkwardly, got her heel stuck on something, and nearly slid right off the other side before Tom caught her arm.

“You’re going to need to sit properly” he said, his voice calm but deeply amused. “Otherwise, you’ll just... fall off.”

“Oh, thank you, Captain Obvious” she snapped, finally managing to straddle the seat like an extremely uncoordinated flamingo. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Once she was on, she stared at her hands, which were hanging limply at her sides. “Okay, now what?”

“You hold on” Tom said over his shoulder.

“To what?”

“Me.”

Jules froze, her brain screaming ABORT MISSION! before she reluctantly wrapped her arms around his waist. “If this ruins my dress, you’re buying me a new one” she muttered.

“Noted” he replied, revving the engine.

When the bike finally started moving, Jules let out a strangled shriek that probably scared a pigeon off a lamppost. Her grip tightened around Tom like he was a life preserver in a hurricane.

By the time they reached her apartment, she was still alive but emotionally scarred. Her legs felt like jelly as she climbed off the bike, wobbling like a newborn giraffe. Tom dismounted with irritating ease, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his hair like some kind of shampoo commercial.

“See?” he said, grinning. “Not so bad, was it?”

Jules glared at him, shoving the helmet into his hands. “It was horrific. I can’t believe people do that for fun.”

“Next time, you’ll love it, I promise” he teased.

“There won’t be a next time” she shot back, though she wasn’t entirely sure she meant it.

Tom stepped closer, his expression softening. “Thanks for letting me ruin your night.”

Jules brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You didn’t ruin my night. In fact, it wasn’t the worst thing ever.”

“High praise” Tom said, his grin returning. “Goodnight, Jules.”

“Goodnight, Tom” she replied, disappearing into her building with as much dignity as she could muster, which wasn’t much, considering she was limping from one of her heels breaking during the dismount.

As she climbed the stairs, she muttered, “Tom Hardy and a motorcycle? What is this, a bloody rom-com?”

And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

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