#tom holland write

[musingsofheaven]

SUGAR RUSH.

peter parker x afab!reader

fluff. heavy kissing. implied intimacy. teens being ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ teens. light suggestive vibes but nothing explicit. ♡

You're on your stomach on Peter's bed, your legs stretched out while wearing the hoodie you stole from his closet a week ago. The sleeves are too long, covering half your hands, but you like it that way. It smells like him, like detergent and that cologne he pretends he doesn't use. You've been living in it like a raccoon in a stolen nest. You're not doing anything right now, just waiting for your boyfriend to finish studying, with your mouth full of Pop Rocks that won't shut up.

Crack. Pop. Crack. It's funny, honestly. It sounds like a neck getting cracked in half—well, it can sound like fireworks too. It's annoyingly loud because your mouth looks like it's trying to pick a fight with physics.

Peter groans from his desk and doesn't even look at you. "You're so annoying." The words come out flat like he's already said them three times today. You know he doesn't mean it. Not really. He's just complaining. As always. It's his nature.

You chuckle, candy still fizzing. "You said I could have them." You roll onto your side just to get a better look at him, your lips pouting as if you're using them against him. His pen is tapping against his notebook while listening to the popping of the Pop Rocks.

"Didn't say I wanted to hear them every five seconds, baby." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sometimes you wonder how he can even manage you. Maybe he's praying for patience and not getting any divine assistance.

You shift a little, cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his bed. "You can't even hear me over there," you say before scoffing and chewing deliberately, just to make a point.

"I can. It's like... background music. In my head." He spins slightly in his chair, just enough to throw a look at you over his shoulder.

You snort. "Dramatic." You drag the word out, milk it, trying to piss him off. Then you toss another handful of candy into your mouth like a kid.

He finally turns around the chair creaking. His hair's a mess, and there's a pencil tucked behind his ear like he forgot it was there. He crosses his arms and damn... those muscles are flexing. "I'm trying to study, and you're over here sounding like... I don't even know what to call it." His expression is all annoyed, but his eyes are warm. Tired, but warm. Not angry. Honestly? You love it when he gets like this, grumpy and soft around the edges.

You open your mouth real wide and go "Aaahhh," just to make the fizz louder. It's obnoxious. Truly. The kind of noise that would make people glare at you, and you're so proud of it.

Peter squints at you like he's in pain. "Why is my girlfriend like this?" He says it like a curse, like a prayer, like a man at the end of his rope who still wouldn't let go.

"Aw, come on, you love me." You say it too easily. It's not a question—something settled and obvious and unchangeable.

He exhales through his nose and walks over to you anyway, flops down next to you on the bed, elbow bumping yours. You hold out the package of candy. It rustles between you like a peace offering. Or a trap. He hasn't decided which yet.

He eyes it before looking back at you and your lips. "You're gonna shut up if I take some?" There's no heat in it, like the everyday tone he uses when you're being like this. Just a tired sort of fondness, like he's resigned himself to your antics and this weird little life you two have built. Annoyingly lovable, what he always says when you're asking for assurance if he still loves you even though you're playful.

You shrug. "Probably not." And you mean it. You're indecisive, and impulsive, with tendencies to be pushy. He knew that when he let you steal his hoodie the first time, and when you did things just to get his attention.

He sighs but takes a few and tilts his head back to chew. The sound bursts in the quiet like tiny firecrackers, and he physically winces, like he didn't think they'd be that loud. Hates the sounds. Obviously.

He looks at you like you just committed a crime. "Why does it... feel weird?" His face scrunches, and he's trying not to like it but also can't deny that it's kind of hilarious.

"It's fun-weird, not bad-weird." You roll onto your back beside him, shoulder brushing his, voice smug. "It tastes good though!"

Peter turns his head toward you and looks at your mouth. "You're ridiculous," he says softly, barely louder than the crackle. But he's still watching you, still close before he takes the Pop Rocks from your hand, gets enough from inside, and puts it in his mouth.

Then he kisses you.

Like... no warning. One second he's staring at your mouth like it's got all the answers to his questions, and the next, he's leaning in, slow but sure, like he already decided and you just didn't catch up yet. It's not aggressive, not rushed- it's soft, warm, and easy.

Your mouths meet soft at first. Just lips brushing lips, a little sticky from the candy's effect. But then the Pop Rocks crackle between you, loud and sudden, like someone just started a time bomb under your tongues, and everything jumps.

You giggle against him, nose bumping his, but he doesn't pull back. He just tilts his head and pushes in a little deeper. And, well, yeah, maybe that's when it changes.

Because now it's not soft. It's something else.

His mouth opens just enough for your tongue to catch him, and he tastes like cherry- you're sure it's from the candy. The candy's still popping, still snapping under your tongues, and it's a funny feeling. Literally. Your lips part wider, let it get messy, let it get loud. You lick into his mouth a little and feel him suck in a breath right through his nose.

And God, that's all it takes before he's kissing you back harder now, licking the taste of candy right out of your mouth like he's trying to shut it off. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, gently and soft the way he knows you like. It's steady; he's holding you in place. His teeth graze your bottom lip, yearningly, just barely, just enough to feel it, and you groan, soft and surprised and too into it.

It's clumsy, yeah. Of course, it is. You're both grinning too much, breathing too hard, lips swollen already, and the candy still going off like a fucking broken record. But you don't stop. Neither of you. Because it's fun and silly. Because it's stupid. Because it's so much better than it should be.

Peter pulls back eventually, breathing hard, his lips pink and wet, a little sugar stuck at the corner of his mouth again. He licks it away automatically, and your stomach flips.

"Okay," he says, voice low and just barely wrecked. "That was..."

He doesn't even finish the sentence.

You're already grabbing more Pop Rocks.

"Again," you say, out of breath but grinning. "C'monnn."

He laughs, but it's a little shaky now. "I'm gonna die."

"Mhm," you hum and press your mouth to his before he can say another word.

This time, it's not that gentle. It's full of tongues and teeth and stupid little moans pressed into each other's mouths, sugar and spit and heat all tangled up in a kiss that has no business feeling this good.

You taste like candy, and he kisses you like he’s starving for it.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[ptergwen]

omg can you write a blurb where peter and the reader are in the stage of their relationship where they can't keep their hands of each other and keep leaving hickeys on each other and sexiling their roommates ? love your stuff <3

my place or yours?

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 793

warnings: 18+!, smut (p in v), language

a/n: hehe one of my fave tropes, when everyone's fed up because they can't get enough of each other :D hope you enjoy! and friendly reminder to join my new taglist it's dead y'all lmao

you move your hips against peter's, rubbing yourself against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. you both make noises of content, lips and tongues intertwined. peter helps you take off your shirt and works on your bra next. you smile coyly from above him as his hands find your chest.

"when's harry gonna be back?"

peter's hands massage your breasts, eyes glazed over with lust.

"uh, i don't know... or care."

he leaves a trail of kisses going down between your breasts. you giggle and push his head back playfully.

"but what if he walks in again?"

"don't worry about it, i put a sock on the doorknob... just in case."

you ruffle peter's hair, dipping your head down so your faces are just inches apart.

"you're so extra, pete. you could've just texted him."

"i know, but i really wanted to piss him off this time."

"i feel kind of bad, though. we've been sexiling him a lot lately."

peter moves his hands down to your hips, guiding you forward so your clothed center presses against him. he gives you a cheeky smile.

"so next time we'll go to your dorm and sexile betty."

you scoff at peter and capture his lips in a kiss. he bucks his hips up, into you, needing you. you need him just as bad.

you can't seem to get enough of each other recently, so much so that you'll go at it anytime and anywhere. your friends aren't too happy about it. they either get kicked out of the room or banned from entering.

you and peter finish undressing each other, fast but somehow still not fast enough. in one swift motion peter flips you over and grabs your leg, lifting it up to his shoulder. his dark eyes lock with yours. you nod repeatedly, desperately. he pushes into you with ease, a moan instantly falling from his lips.

"fuck, baby."

you hum happily. peter keeps his hips still for a moment, lets himself fill you up and feel you wrapped around him. he takes the opportunity to connect your lips once again in a slow kiss. you smile into the kiss and curl your other leg around peter's waist, encouraging him to move. he pulls out of you just enough so he can thrust back in.

peter begins to find a rhythm as his cock thrusts into you again and again. he can tell it's one you like by the way you grab at his shoulders and let out soft moans. he holds your leg in place on his shoulder so he keeps hitting the right spot, at the right angle. you can feel yourself drip between your thighs from how bad you'd wanted him and how good he's fucking you.

"pete... feels so good, baby."

neither of you are making any effort to be quiet. peter presses his forehead to yours, hips moving at the same perfect pace. you take his face in either of your hands. you close your eyes and focus on the pleasure. peter brings a hand down to rub your clit, earning a gasp from you at the sudden intensified feeling. he chuckles at your reaction.

"you like that?"

"mm, you know i do."

"wanted to hear you say it anyway."

you groan at peter's cockiness, but god does it turn you on.

"of course you did."

peter continues stroking in and out of you as his middle and ring fingers circle your clit. you crane your neck so you can kiss across peter's jaw, his chin, then back to his lips, his tussled hair tickling your forehead. you give him a look, the look with the eyes that gets him every time.

"harder."

peter brings your other leg up to his shoulders, holding them both in place, starting to pound into you. he groans out a fuck. you arch your back and reach up, hands still cupping his cheeks. you're breathless and he's panting. you want more and more, as much of him as you can take, even more than that.

"oh my god, y/n. shit, baby."

"needed you so bad, pete."

"i’m all yours."

peter takes one of your hands and kisses your palm. you squeeze your intertwined hands, eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss.

the moment is interrupted when you two hear harry call from outside.

"again, parker? really?"

he bangs on the door for emphasis. peter stifles a laugh, continuing to thrust into you, making you have to stifle a moan.

"hey, man! respect the sock!"

"yeah. you're a real class act, you two."

you wait until harry leaves to join peter in a fit of giggles. you push some damp hair out of his face, scrunching up your nose.

"okay, yeah. my place next time."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[talaok]

Training

Pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader

Summary: Peter has never been able to last enough to take care of you, but as it turns out... practice does make perfect.

Warnings: talk about premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, sub!peter and lots of pet names for spidey.

he was always so desperate around you. He was always shy about it, but every time you gave him permission his hands never left your body.

He was so fucking in love with you it was actually a little bit scary.

Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did, and not just sex-wise (although goddamn wasn't that the best thing ever), no, but feelings-wise- like he could breathe more easily around you, like he felt light and soft and the word was perfect whenever you were near.

And everything really was perfect... except one little thing.

he couldn't last.

You weren't making it a big deal, being that you were also teaching him every other way he could make you come, but still, he wanted to do it... he so desperately wanted to feel your walls squeeze him as you came that he was willing to do anything... but it was just so hard.

Andit never got easier...

"c'mon baby" you purred, taking his face in your hands "You can do it, think of something else," you said, out of breath as you bounced on his cock "Anything else baby, I'm almost there"

His eyes were shut close.

He'd found that he didn't even stand a chance at lasting more than 2 minutes if he was watching you.

And he tried, he really tried to get his mind to make something up, to will it to find something else to focus on, but-

"you feel so good y/n- I-I can't"

"yes you can" you shut him up with a messy kiss "You wanna be my good boy, baby?" you ask, eliciting a whimper from his throat

"y-yes" he choked out, not sure how he still hadn't burst

"Yeah?" you breathed "Then you're gonna have to be good and wait a little more" you moaned, his dick hitting a particularly good spot "Can you do that for me, baby? can you wait a little more?"

"mh-mh" he hummed, sounding on the verge of tears

"good boy" you moaned, your nails scratching his chest, as he stretched you so incredibly well "fuck-you feel so good" you cried, your voice drowning out the sound of your skin slapping with his "s-so big baby" you moaned again "s-so f-fucking-"

And then, just like that, it happened- the most extraordinary thing he'd ever felt.

You came, you came on his cock- you came because of him (although, let's be honest, you did all the work), and it felt-

he didn't even have words for it, he only groaned louder than he had ever done, and finally (and inevitably) reached his own release as your walls squeezed his dick and your moans filled the air.

He was grinning like an idiot the moment you opened your eyes back up, and you couldn't help but laugh "You liked it?"

"yes" he nodded, still smiling wide "yes very much"

"mhh" you hummed, bashing in your post-orgasmic bliss as you leaned down to kiss him "I told you you could do it honey"

[im-sleepdeprived]

can you do one where peter gets hurt a little bit and gets all whiny and crap and the reader is trying so hard to stay focused. LOVE YOUR STORIES BRO!!!!!

I LOVE THIS IDEA !!! it’s definitely such a peter thing to do. here’s a short, cutesy little thing, i hope you like it and im sorry it took me so long to get back to you💞✨ !! warnings are just peter being a big whiny baby whose desperate for affection, small mentions of injuries, 1,3k wc <333

“Ow!”

“Peter, be quiet! Stop whining, I’m almost done.”

“I’m in pain, baby,” he whined. 

It hadn’t been a surprise to be disturbed by a knock on your window, Peter usually stopped by after patrol which was why you’d started leaving it open for him. But when he hadn’t slid the window open after those few soft taps, you’d gotten a little worried. 

So you’d gotten out of bed to open for him, only to find your boyfriend perched before you, mask off, pouting heavily at you. 

Of course, you’d helped him in and gotten him laying across your bed so you could start to clean him up. You’d started keeping a first-aid-kit at hand since you’d found out he was Spider-Man. It had been of great use. 

But it hadn’t taken you long to realize that his wounds, as far as his usual patrol wounds went, weren’t bad. Not at all. In fact, you were positive that he could’ve gone home, slept the rest of the night, and woken up good as new as if nothing had happened in the first place. Maybe your boyfriend had forgotten that he had super-healing abilities. 

Or maybe he just liked the way you babied him.

“Oh, are you now?” You asked, glancing up at him with a raised brow. There was really nothing for you to do other than wipe the few cuts and scratches with antiseptic and place small bandaids over them. He just enjoyed pestering you.

“Yes,” he said so seriously, you almost laughed. This Peter was a stark contrast to actually-injured-Peter, who would do everything he could to assure you he was fine when he was literally bleeding out before your eyes. You didn’t like that. At least this was funny. 

“Petey, baby,” you laughed softly, adjusting a small bandaid on the high of his cheekbone where he’d had a small scrape. “You’re actually pretty put together tonight. Must’ve been a pretty quiet night, hm?”

“No,” he sighed dramatically, grabbing the wrist by his face gently, keeping you close to him. “No, it was horrible sweetheart, I’m gonna need extra care tonight. You know, to help the trauma.”

Shaking with laughter, you leaned in and pecked his cheek, right beside the cut you’d just bandaged. “The ‘trauma’, Petey? Really?”

A large, dopey grin broke over his face as you pecked his cheek and he squeezed you wrist a little. “There. That’s perfect, such a big help sweetheart, you have no idea what you do for me. You make the pain bearable, pretty girl.” 

You rolled your eyes affectionately, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “There, all better?” You asked him as you pulled away where you were met with a scowl.

“Y/N, honey, I’m suffering! I’m knocking on death’s door, angel! Give me something!”

You absolutely lost it at that, falling back onto the bed in a fit of giggles. “I can’t help you when all you do is whine!” When you opened your eyes, Peter was hovering over you, trying to keep his little facade of being upset and in pain, which was fruitless with the large smile blooming on his lips.

“You’re so mean, you know that?”

“Oh really? I’m the mean one?”

“Yes! You just found out your boyfriend, the love of your life, your future husband, the father of your future children—”

“What?!”

“—is dying, and what do you do? You laugh!!”

Another laugh escaped you, this time the sound infecting Peter as well. “I-if you’re dying, doesn’t that mean you won’t be my husband or the ‘father of my future children?” You manage out between laughs.

Peter gasped offendedly. “I…I…” he tried to defend himself to no avail. You’d caught him. 

You laughed even harder. “It’s okay, Petey. I’ll tell my future children all about you.”

He didn’t seem to like that very much. In one swift motion, his hands were on your hips, picking you up as he laid back on the bed again, his back pressed against the headboard before he plopped you down onto his lap.

“Oh hi,” you grinned at him, loosely looping your arms over his shoulders, his own hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, his eyes soft and loving as he looked up at you.

Leaning down, you pressed your forehead against his. Peter’s hands tightened on your waist, tugging you closer till your chest was pressed against his. 

“I have another wound you haven’t patched up for me yet.” He spoke softly. 

“Yeah?” You asked, fully expecting him to be playing a bit, the smile already starting to tug at the corners of your lips. “Where, sweetie?”

He smiled right back at you, sticking his hand between where your chests were pressed together and pressing on the spider emblem on the center of his suit, making the fabric deflate with a soft breath and flood around him.

Pushing the suit away for him, you noticed a scratch on his chest you hadn’t realized was there before, making you frown. It wasn’t deep and it wasn’t bleeding, but it was long and a harsh shade of red, the skin around it tinged pink with irritation, and it definitely could’ve used a cleaning. 

“Petey, baby, why didn’t you show me this before?” You asked softly, shifting in his lap as you leaned over to grab the kit again. 

Peter sighed, biting back a smile. This was exactly what he’d needed, that soft, gentle voice of yours you used on him whenever he stopped by bruised and banged up. “Why, you think it’s bad sweetheart?”

“No, no, thank god…” you muttered as you got to work on the scratch. “But I bet it burns. Does it hurt, honey?”

“Yeah,” he answered, letting out a soft groan for show as he leaned further back against your headboard. One of his hands left your waist and found it’s way to your hair, playing with the strands and giving one a gentle tug every now and them. 

“Peter,” you grumble, refusing to look up at him.

“Your hair is so soft.” He murmured in awe, as if he’d never seen anything like it before. 

“Genetics.” You deadpanned. “Now stop distracting me, I’m trying to help you!”

“You are helping me, pretty girl. Just watching that gorgeous face while you bandage me up is doing half the healing already.” Another tug to your hair. 

You swatted his hand away before poking his side with a soft smile. “No bandages for this one, sorry Pete. I’m just gonna have to heal you with kisses.”

“That sounds great,” he beamed widely. “Your kisses make me heal way faster than bandages, trust me, I speak from experience.”

Ignoring him, you leaned down and peppered a few soft kisses along his chest, staying beside the cut but never kissing the wound itself. You could feel his breathing stutter, the rhythmic movements of his chest turning irregular beneath your lips. 

Peter hands on your waist tightened, his grip pushing you down on his lap. “Baby…” his voice was a soft, desperate thing, a deepness in his tone that made your stomach flip. Well that wasn’t right. 

You sat back up, picking up a leg to swing over and slide off his lap but his hands on your waist slid down to your thighs quickly, stopping you.

“What’re you doing, pretty girl?” The utter betrayal on his face almost had you second-guessing what you’d done for something way worse. “Why’d you stop?”

“You’re hurt, Petey,” you answered simply, “we’re not doing anything tonight.”

“W-what? I’m not hurt, no, I’m fine! I’m perfect!”

“Really? I thought you were at death’s door.”

“Oh that…Yeah, no, he sent me away. Said it wasn’t my time.”

“Right, of course,” you murmured, nodding your head with all seriousness.

“Your kisses were working,” he stated sincerely, “you have to keep going!”

“Whatever you say, handsome.” You smiled, leaning in to press your lips to his. 

[shefollowedthestars]

baker!peter parker who....‧₊˚ 🧁 ⋅ ☆

baker!peter parker whose recipes are all taken from may and mary's old homemade cookbooks because he wants his bakery and all his desserts inside it to feel like a comfortable and safe space for his customers - he wants it to feel like home.

baker! peter parker whose favorite customers are kids and pets. whenever a little kid comes into the store, he always kneels down to their level, pointing to the display cases and describing the different items for them. peter has social anxiety, but for some reason talking to kids is so easy and natural for him. and whenever a dog comes in he has a special free item (very reminiscent of the pup cup) for the furry friend and you can guarantee peter is petting that dog at every chance he gets.

baker!peter parker whose love language is gift giving. whenever you're feeling down or whenever peter just wants to do something kind for you, he gifts you a tray of sprinkle cupcakes or a bag of raspberry scones. the feeling of coming home from a long and stressful day to your favorite dessert on the counter with a pretty bouquet of flowers is unmatched.

baker!peter parker who is also spiderman, and whenever he saves someone, he brings them back to their house safely, leaving them with a croissant - or two that always makes their face light up. he tells them it's made by his 'buddy' down at the parker bakehouse and the next day he suddenly, soooo surprisingly, has more customers

[ you keep telling him that someday someone is going to find out that peter parker of parker bakehouse is spiderman, because it's so darn obvious, peter! but he refuses to believe you and lives in his own little delusional world ]

baker!peter parker who always shows up to ned's with flour on his face. ned just always stares at him knowingly and peter awkwardly realizes he hasn't cleaned his face since he was at the bakery. he tries to quickly brush it off before you walk in, but you still notice and think it's adorable.

baker!peter parker who is the light of your life and so special to everyone in the community. the bakehouse is the place where anyone in queens can go to and experience a feeling of together-ness. everyone knows and cares for each other there and it's all something that peter has created himself. it's his whole world and he's forever grateful for deciding to start the business up.

[mischievous-thunder]

[taleofharrison]

After the shocking revelation of Peter being only 21 Joaquin, Bob and Johnny become very protective of Peter but not in a "he is the baby" kind of way more like "we are genuinely concerned about you" kind of way.

Peter lives alone in a tiny apartment in NYC, Bob naturally offers him a room at the tower (they have space to spare) and he knows Bucky and Yelena won't mind. Peter declines not wanting to be a burden, but Bob does more sleepovers in winter, he knows Peter has problems with the thermostat at his place and at the tower he won't be cold. Peter never questions this he just assumes Bob just likes to have them over.

When Joaquin invites them over for dinner he cooks an incredible amount of food (his mom's and abuela's recipes). This is because he takes leftovers as lunch when he has a training day, but now that he knows Peter is juggling school, an awful job, spiderman duties and living alone the least he can do is give him leftovers to eat for breakfast or take to school as lunch. Joaquin makes sure Johnny and Bob have their fair share of leftovers too so it doesn't look like he's doing it for Peter only.

When finals season come up and everyone needs the same books from the library and Peter didn't get a chance to borrow a copy of this book he needs Johnny looks through Reed's old books, the man has an impressive amount of books, he won't notice if one is missing and if he does it's not a problem to replace, with Joaquin and Bob's help he makes sure the book makes it to Peter's bag or apartment without him noticing.

They want Peter to be alright, they have each other's backs and they just want to make Peter's life a little bit easier <3

[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.

[spiderooos]

kiss me until the sun comes up ﾒ peter parker

. . . the moon knows all my secrets anyways.

syn. peter parker finds someone to be a part of a night he didn’t want. but he does now, he really does now.

includes. peter parker x fem!reader, slightly suggestive content, reader smokes (be careful w your consumption irl bud), fluff, slight angst, peter goes to columbia here.

wc. 2k

notes. I’m cross posting this from my ao3 account here because I plan on writing on tumblr as well (not like I’ve written anywhere in a while lol).

masterlist

The noises were too loud, the bass was too harsh and the bodies too close. It was warm, so fucking warm and Peter was itching to pull off the knit sweater May had made for him, even though it was actually damn cold due to the approaching end of the year. He stumbled through the throngs of people, struggling to fight the feeling of being wrapped underwater, sounds and mind muffled and lost— loud and jarring. Apologies pained to escape his screeching lungs, asking and begging for a breath of air, unperturbed. Forcing through the crowds of his classmates, he struggled to reach the end of the room, the clear sliding glass to the backyard open and he all but sprinted in his need to get out. A force behind him pushed him and he nearly lost his balance as he stumbled onto the faintly lit backyard.

"You know, when people usually come out here during a party, they tend to want to be alone."

The voice startled him enough to notice a girl, the bottom of her black skirt riding up her thighs and boots strewn on the grass as she dipped her toes inside the pool.

"Six minutes." He had no idea how he choked that out but she looked up, hair messy and undone like it'd been pulled back for a while. A cigarette dangled from her lips as she spoke, the red closed around them drawing him to it as he watched them move.

"What?"

Peter was walking towards her. She pulled her legs out of the water, scooting back to tuck herself into the gap between the reclining chairs. "It's something . . . I used to tell Uncle B— someone I knew that everytime he smoked, that's six minutes less I'd spend with him."

She laughed —whether to act like he hadn’t choked up at the thought of his uncle (whom he hadn’t even spoken about in ages and thought he’d gotten past) or because of the absurdity of his sudden statement and appearance— and the hand squeezing at his lungs loosened ever the slightest. "Well. . . we're all dying. At least I get to control it."

Peter sat down in front of her, legs spread on either side of hers, holding a hand out. She looked amused.

"I did say I want to be alone."

"How about we be alone together then?"

She shook her head, chuckling as she passed him the cigarette. “Was waiting to hear that one,” he heard her murmur as Peter tried his hand at imitating her movements. She'd looked so graceful and had a fluid dexterity in her heady intoxication as she gazed at him, eyes on him deep and piercing. She was a contrast he couldn’t understand, but it drained the water and was cleaning out his lungs that were greedily sucking in pleasant air, trying to fill it with the purity the shaded place offered; but the bitter taste filling his lungs made him choke as he exhaled, the white fog puffing out painfully in his harsh hiccups and bleary coughs.

She was leaned over, patting his back as he calmed down. Peter kept his gaze on her eyes when he realised she was wearing a deep red lace under her silk shirt. "You've never done this, huh?"

"That obvious?" he asked, wiping at his teary eyes and adverting his gaze, not watching as she readjusted her position. The liquid was expunging from his lungs, and his mind grateful for the encompassing scent of sweet vanilla and deep and warm spice. Cool limbs pressed up against warm ones. She shrugged, handing him a bottle. Peter grabbed it by the neck and turned it towards him to look at it, the name catching his eye. "That's expensive for a student."

She smiled, a dim one, like they were best friends sharing a secret. She leaned in closer, her breath hitting his face. It smelled like the sweet wine and cigarette smoke, and some sort of berry. Peter leaned in closer to her in their constrictions, their bodies nearly melding into one. Jeans clad legs nearly forming a cage around a knees-tucked-under-her-chin beauty as she looked up at him. "That's why it isn't mine. I stole it from the parents’ don’t touch my expensive alcohol cabinet."

Peter laughed. Air had begun to slowly flow through his lungs and the alcohol he’d had earlier had stopped blocking his body. He brought the tip to his lips and took a large swig of the contents inside, the sweetness of it much better than the smoke that blew in his face. "You're staring."

“And you are drowning in alcohol. That's your poison, is it not?" she nodded at the bottle. Peter took another long draw of sweet alcohol. It tasted better than the beer that had been thrusted into his hand in a solo cup he'd promptly dropped upon seeing her— someone like her. That person wasn't his girl, not anymore she wasn’t. It couldn't have been. She wasn't here. Columbia wasn’t her scene, MIT was. Peter shrugged.

"It might be."

She hummed, looking around the place. "So, why're you here if you clearly don't want to be?"

"Isn't this how you make friends?"

She looked scoffed knowingly, sounding indifferent and yet amused. "Then you've come to the wrong place. The only friend you're getting is a night and regrets the morning after."

Peter smiled softly, musing over her words. She'd shuffled closer to the warmth he provided. Legs caging in an unknown aphrodisiac dream in their midst. The air was soothing the burning ache in his chest, the feeling cooling down through the sweet chill of the sweet wine.

"What about you?"

She shrugged, blowing out the smoke into his face when she turned to look at him from the pool, before turning back. Peter studied her, brows knitted.

"Why do you do that?" he took a hit of the cigarette she held up to his lips, and parted his lips to return the gesture when she closed in, head resting on his knee as she looked up through her lashes. Cool against warm. Familiarity against unknown.

"I guess it's what every artist goes through at some point, addiction and madness that gives into genius. I'm practically a crazy person they'll tell their friends or dates was an alcoholic and an addict and how she could've taken care of herself better while they stand in front of a a garishly done painting that I made that they somehow adore and venerate at Le Louvre or Le Musée d’Orsay."

Peter smiled at the way she pronounced the french names, the words sounding so at home and one with the thick yet comforting accent of her voice, offering the bottle she stole her way, more than half of its contents creating a warm and fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Fingers trailing the inside of her arm, brushing against the silk of her blouse. She grabbed the bottle, placing it on her lips and drinking languidly, the crimson stain of her lips colouring the rim of the bottle red. He'd usually be wary because of the germs, but there must've been something wrong yet right like everything else in that evening as he took a large sip, the red transferring onto his lips.

Peter looked up, noticing the feeling of her smoky breath mingling with his. He opened his mouth, the girl exhaling into his and luckily, he managed to succeed in keeping his hiccuping breaths to himself, the feeling less pungent than before as he blew the smoke in her face. She smiled, one twinging a deep feeling in his body he couldn't understand as he leaned closer.

"What about those regrets?"

"What about them?"

Peter took the stub from her hands, taking a slow inhale of the fatal components rolled up between his thumb and pointer finger and she let him. She was watching him with intrigued eyes, ones that held opalescent thoughts flowing through dainty burgundy painted hands as her fingers danced on his skin. Peter could feel the trace of them long after they left their heavy yet feathery weight on his body.

"You don't seem to have any."

"I don't feel the need to."

She was giving him an indescribable glance, but Peter preened under the idea of it. The idea that regrets weren't something to have. Something an enigma of his head might have made up, someone he wasn't sure as real, inebriated and alcohol addled as they traded a cigarette back and forth. Knees touching bare skin, and he could feel the warmth through his jeans. Skin touching skin, and he was tracing a steady path up the expanse of her, hand coming to rest under her jaw, thumb pressing onto her lower lip like a question, and she leaned into it, pushing forward in desirous countenance.

Unlike every other person he'd seen at the party, this had been soft. She was warm and gentle and supple and all soft edges under his palms, unlike the dark and sharp bites of her definitive gazes and answers. No clashing teeth, groping at each other against a wall. . . it was all soft and sensual and he couldn't get enough of her lips. He sprung alive under her touch as she brought her hands over his slim and harshly cut edges, over the bruises on his knuckles as she held a hand there, the other curling around the collar of his shirt as she pushed herself onto his lap, Peter following through with wanton ardour.

The quiet bass of the party had begun to get louder and she pulled away, the smudged lipstick drawing dark and hooded eyes to it. Peter turned around, seeing someone from his class, he couldn't exactly remember who it was as they noticed the pair, quietly backing up and shutting the door behind them.

She laughed, her voice lilting with the heady kiss as she sucked the air around them greedily into her lungs, a contrast from her claims of death being an inevitable pair at the end of hand dealt out to them. The sound was airy and light unlike the tension brewing as she moved back, just enough to gaze at his hooded and primal desire, her hips still pressing down into his. Peter missed her warmth at once, almost considering pulling her flush against him once again, but she seemed to revel in the cooling breeze of the approaching winter, an incandescent glow following her every move as the moon seemed to admonish her with her attention, showering her with the sweetest love Peter had ever seen been given to someone he didn't even know. And he wanted that, even if it was just for until when the fiery embers of the sun brought out a new dawn.

"Regrets?"

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pulling her closer by the waist as he caressed her cheek. She was running a hand over the splatter of blues, yellows and purples scattered across the carvings of his knuckles. She couldn't look at him —all Adonis and godly— while she was close enough to feel him. She could feel him. She was looking up at the moon as she hummed unintelligibly, the messed up hair and smudged lipstick that had dragged down the column of her exposed throat when he’d moved his thumb making her look like she was a mixture between earthly and heavenly in that moment.

"I have all night for them." Her voice was a whisper as she turned to him, eyes low and holding promises of a lifetime in a night. Sobriety had walked out a long time ago on either of them and Peter didn't mind if he could experience it. He wanted to experience it. He wanted to experience her. "What about you, sweetheart?"

He flushed, swallowing down the rationale screaming at him about his early day following him and smiled, closing the distance again, hands coming to thread through her hair as she pulled him closer by the collar of his sweater, the cool metal digging into the scarred skin of his back that was exposed as they shuffled to find exactly that point to euphoric pleasure contrasting pleasantly with his heated skin as he pressed her into his lithe body, hands running wild to trace every nook and cranny like she was doing.

There was still time for the sun.

spiderooos © 2025.

[maddoxunchained]

Yo can u write tom x reader, reader bad at study so her parents put him as her tutor he's older than her but at first day they both nervous second day they become little close each other third day they get handsy and touchy flithy especially tom fourth day they start to give hints each other by small physical things at last She's studying alone with him in her house her parents out for reason then SMUT! okai thank u

Private Lessons 📚

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Smut

Authors note: I tried to make this short (emphasis on tried) but i think i might rewrite this i fear. thanks anon!

***

You sit at the kitchen table, textbooks open, pen hovering over a blank page. Your parents said Tom would be a great tutor — smart, responsible, a few years older. You hadn’t expected him to look so young, with that cocky half-smile already playing on his lips.

He sets his bag down and gives you a nod. “Hey. Ready to tackle calculus?”

You swallow hard. “I’m not sure it’ll be me doing any tackling.”

Tom laughs, the sound easy and unexpectedly warm. “Don’t sell yourself short. We’ll start slow.”

He pulls out a notebook and a pen, and for a moment you both just stare at the mountain of formulas in front of you.

“So,” Tom says, tapping a page, “derivatives. You know the basics?”

You shake your head. “Not really. I get lost halfway through.”

Tom leans forward, voice gentle. “Okay, let’s break it down. Think of it as… the rate of change. Like how fast your heart beats when I smile at you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He shrugs. “Okay, maybe that’s not in the textbook. But it sticks, right?”

You laugh — a real one — and the tension breaks.

The next hour is slow. Tom explains patiently, correcting you without judgment. When you get frustrated, he makes a few jokes, and the room feels less like a test and more like… a conversation.

When your parents peek in to say dinner’s ready, you and Tom exchange an awkward but promising smile.

***

You hear a knock before Tom arrives. You open the door and he’s holding two coffees — one black, one with just a splash of cream.

“I remembered you like it bitter,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes but take the cup. “You’re lucky I’m bad at math, or I’d make you quiz me just for this.”

Tom grins, setting down his bag. “Challenge accepted.”

The lesson starts with fewer pauses. Tom watches you struggle but also encourages every little win, leaning closer when he points at your notes. His cologne is subtle but addictive, a mix of something fresh and spicy.

At one point, he reaches over to correct your grip on the pencil, his fingers brushing your hand. You freeze for a second, heart thudding, but then you look up and catch him smirking like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re distracting,” you say, half-joking.

“Maybe that’s my secret weapon,” he replies.

The air between you is lighter now — teasing and full of quiet electricity.

***

Tom arrives with a casual confidence you hadn’t noticed before — jeans, a fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off a little forearm.

You’re sitting in the living room when he walks in, and the moment he smiles at you, your knees go weak.

“Ready for round three?” he asks, dropping his stuff and coming to sit beside you.

He leans closer, brushing your hair aside to show you a tricky problem on your paper. Your breath catches.

“Here, try this,” he murmurs, fingers tracing a line from your shoulder to your wrist. The touch is deliberate but soft — teasing, like he’s testing your reaction.

You shift, suddenly aware of how warm he feels.

“Tom,” you say, voice shaky, “focus.”

He laughs quietly, pulling back just enough to grin at you. “You’re the one who keeps making it hard.”

When you finally look at him, his eyes are locked on yours — dark and hungry. Your heart races.

Later, as you pack your books, he sits close, his hand resting lightly on your knee. His thumb brushes small circles, and every nerve in your body tingles.

You swallow hard. “We should probably keep this professional.”

Tom leans in, lips just brushing your ear. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You glance at him, lips twitching into a smile despite yourself.

***

It starts innocent. It always does.

You’re cross-legged on the living room floor, notebook in front of you, pen tapping nervously against the page. The numbers don’t make sense. They never do.

“Try again,” Tom says from beside you, voice calm. Too calm. Like he already knows you’re going to mess up again and he’s looking forward to it.

You sigh, scribble something, then freeze when his hand suddenly slides over your wrist.

“Wrong,” he murmurs, leaning in. “But closer this time.”

It’s your third session with him. The first day, he was all awkward politeness and tight smiles. The second, he teased you a little when you got things wrong, but gently. This time? You’re not sure he’s even pretending to be subtle anymore.

His fingers stay on your wrist longer than necessary. They trace up your arm, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing how far he can go without crossing a line.

Your breath catches.

You turn to look at him, ready to call him out — but he’s already staring at you. Not at your work. Not at the problem. At you.

“What?” you say, trying to keep your voice light.

Tom shrugs. “Nothing. Just thinking about how terrible you are at math.”

Your jaw drops. “Wow. Rude.”

He grins. “I’m your tutor. It’s literally my job to tell you that.”

You throw your pen at him.

He dodges, laughing, then suddenly reaches forward and grabs your hips — pulling you slightly closer with one strong tug. It’s playful. Mostly. But there’s a beat too long between the move and the smile that follows.

Your heart stutters.

He doesn’t let go right away.

“I can help you, you know,” he says, fingers still pressing into the dip of your waist. “You just need the right kind of… motivation.”

The way he says it makes your skin flush.

You lean back just slightly. “What kind of motivation?”

Tom tilts his head, pretending to think. “Positive reinforcement, maybe. Rewards. Every right answer earns you a compliment. Or something else.”

Your stomach flips.

“Or something else?” you echo.

He hums. “Mm-hmm. Like this—”

And before you can ask what he means, he leans in and presses his lips to your jaw. Barely a kiss. More a whisper of one. But it lingers.

You swallow hard. “That doesn’t seem very… professional.”

He shrugs. “Neither is how short your skirt is.”

Your face burns.

“Okay,” you say, heart racing. “Fourth session. If I get all the warm-ups right, you owe me something.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, do I?”

You nod. “A reward. Like you said.”

Tom leans back, arms crossed. “You’re on.”

***

You answer the door in a soft t-shirt and loose cotton shorts, trying to look casual. Like you didn’t plan this. Like you haven’t been thinking about this every night since he kissed your jaw.

Tom notices. His eyes flick over you as he walks in, jaw tightening for just a second before he plays it cool.

You settle in on the couch with your book, and he sits beside you — close enough to brush shoulders.

“You ready to learn something today?” he asks.

You hum, flipping the page. “Depends. You gonna behave?”

Tom smirks. “Absolutely not.”

The session barely lasts ten minutes before the teasing starts again — fingertips brushing your thigh under the pretense of fixing your posture, his voice low and close in your ear when he explains a problem. His hand stays on your back longer than it should. His thumb strokes the inside of your knee.

You try to focus. You really do.

But then his hand slides higher.

And then your pencil drops.

And then you’re suddenly straddling his lap, textbook forgotten, lips crashing against his as his hands roam with that same confident patience — slow, warm, intentional.

The kiss turns hungry fast. Tongues, teeth, muffled moans into each other’s mouths. His hands slide under your shirt, over your stomach, then higher.

“You were so good today,” he murmurs against your neck. “Think you’ve earned your reward yet?”

Your only answer is a desperate nod and a breathless, “Please.”

Tom slides one hand behind your neck, guiding your mouth back to his, lips parting with ease. The kiss is deeper this time, less teasing. Your bodies press together with more certainty now, like the weeks of tension finally cracked open, spilling heat between you.

You’re straddling his lap, knees pressed into the couch cushions, and all you can feel is him — his hands, his mouth, his chest rising hard against yours.

“You really waited until your parents left to pull this, huh?” he mutters against your lips, one hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace your lower back.

“You’re the one who kissed me first,” you shoot back, breathless, nipping his bottom lip.

“Yeah, but you’re the one grinding on me now.”

You gasp — partly at his words, mostly at the friction when he shifts his hips up against you. You can feel him now, thick and straining under his jeans, and it sends a sharp pulse between your legs.

Your hands slide up his chest, palms greedy, and you tug at his shirt. He helps you, arms lifting just long enough to peel it off — revealing toned muscle and flushed skin beneath.

You lean in, kissing down his neck, his collarbone, dragging your tongue along the dip between his pecs. He groans softly, head tilting back against the couch.

“God,” he mutters, his hands finding your thighs. “You’re making it really hard to focus on your homework.”

You laugh into his skin. “What, this doesn’t count as extra credit?”

“Baby,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark and wrecked, “if this is extra credit, you’re getting a damn A+.”

Then his hands are under your skirt.

No pretense now — just fingers dragging up the soft inside of your thighs, teasing the edge of your underwear, then sliding over the damp center like he knew you’d be soaked for him already.

You whimper against his mouth.

“So wet for me,” he says low, almost to himself. “What am I supposed to do with you like this?”

“Touch me,” you whisper. “Tom, please.”

He obliges — slowly, deliberately, sliding your panties aside to stroke two fingers along your folds. You shudder when he finds your clit, circling it in lazy, perfect motions that make your thighs twitch and your breath catch.

And when he finally slips one finger inside, then two — curling just right — you nearly sob.

“Shh,” he whispers against your mouth, lips brushing yours as he works you open. “Don’t want the neighbors knowing how bad you want your tutor, do you?”

You clench around his fingers at the sound of his voice.

“God, you’re tight,” he groans, kissing you again. “Bet you’d feel so fucking good wrapped around me.”

You grind harder against his hand, desperate. “Then do it. Tom—please.”

He doesn’t make you beg long.

You don’t remember when your shorts came off, or how his jeans ended up on the floor. All you know is he’s there now — thick and hot against your entrance, one hand still stroking your hip while the other gently holds your jaw.

“You sure?” he asks, voice quieter now, though his eyes are wild.

You nod fast. “Yes. Want you.”

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch — and you both moan.

The stretch is dizzying, but perfect. He fills you up fully, like he was meant to. You bury your face in his neck, breath catching as he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he whispers into your ear, holding still. “You feel unbelievable.”

Tom begins to move slowly inside you, hips rocking gently at first, giving you time to adjust to every delicious inch. The couch creaks under your weight and his, the quiet room filled with nothing but your shared breaths and the soft sounds of skin sliding against skin.

Your hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging in slightly as the sensation builds. His pace grows bolder, deeper, his thumb circling your hip in a rhythmic, steady stroke.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he groans, voice rough. “So warm. So tight.”

You tilt your head back, moaning as he hits just the right spots inside you. Your body melts into his, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure.

“I want you to take all of this,” Tom breathes into your neck, teeth grazing your skin lightly. “Show me how good you feel.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing more contact, more friction. He responds immediately, thrusting harder, faster, hips rolling with increased urgency.

Your breaths come out in ragged gasps, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. The heat pooling deep inside you intensifies, spiraling toward a shattering peak.

Tom’s hand moves to cup your breast, thumb teasing your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. You arch into the touch, biting your lip to hold back a scream.

“Cum for me,” he orders softly, voice full of command but laced with tenderness.

You’re trembling, every muscle taut and ready to snap as his fingers brush your clit in rapid circles. The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body clenching hard around him as you come undone.

Tom groans deeply, his own release close behind. His thrusts falter, then deepen once more as he spills inside you with a guttural moan.

They both shudder together, a shared wave of warmth and relief.

After a long moment, Tom gently lowers you onto the couch cushions, pulling you into his arms. His breath is slow now, steadying as he brushes hair from your damp forehead.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod, voice hoarse. “Better than okay.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “You were amazing. Seriously.”

You smile tiredly, snuggling into his chest.

“Thanks for the lesson,” you murmur.

Tom chuckles quietly. “Anytime. But next time… maybe we actually study too.”

You laugh softly, your hands tracing lazy circles on his skin as you both drift toward a comfortable silence — content and close.

[whoislemoncar]

𝙀𝙋𝙄𝙎𝙊𝘿𝙀 : 𝘐𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘙𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥

"Blitzkrieg Bop" ♬⋆.˚

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: fluff ᴡᴄ: 1.1k character: Tom Holland! Peter Parker x GN! reader

summary: Peter comes home after a long day of Spider-Manning, entering his room only to find his best friend (and crush) in his bed. so he accidentally revealed his identity AND made himself look stupid.

cars ɴᴏᴛᴇs: Little silly fic, hope you enjoy! Also my first fic, so if you like it, tell me! I'm a narcissist and love to be complemented. · · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“They're forming in a straight line… they're going through a tight wind…” Peter mumbled to himself music playing through the inner speakers of his suit- which might have been the smartest thing Mr. Stark ever embedded into his suit. The frigid air picked at his skin through his suit, but it wasn’t as bad as it usually was. 

He followed the familiar path in his mind to his apartment complex, not even needing the built in map in his suit. He landed on a nearby rooftop, looking around to make sure no one was stalking him creepily like the super fans he was sure he had… or saw him enter his building. Probably more of the last one.

After making sure he was in the clear, he landed on the part of the wall above his window, looking through to see his door cracked open and May cooking some food that was definitely gonna burn. He used his little sticky hands to slide the window open, slowly as possible as to not alert the cooking Aunt May.

He kept up that same speed as he slowly crawled into his room, dead focused on making sure to close the door. Step by step, it felt like a million miles, before he stopped in front of the door. He reached out and pushed the open, creaky door until that satisfying ‘click’ entered his ears. He let out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding on like a lifeline.

Still not trying to make noise, he dropped down onto his bedroom floor, staring at the door for a second. A poster for MIT, his dream school laid on the door. A small smile twitched at his lips as he turned around to his bed- Oh. His jaw fell slack and his stomach tightened as he saw Y/N. His friend (and maybe crush since 5th grade but that doesn’t even exist, totally not, not way… shut up), sitting on the bottom bunk of his bed, just as shocked as him, mirroring him. They shot up in their seat on his bed… immediately hitting their head on the bunk above them. “Gah! Shit-” They yelped, holding their head in pain.

“Is something going on in there?” May’s voice called out from the other side, making Peter turn to the door quickly, holding his hand out like it would do something. “Ah- Nothing May!” He called back, turning to Y/N, who was no longer under his bed but still tending to their hurt head. “What are you doing here?!” Peter angrily whispered, he felt nauseous. “You’re Spider-Man…” They said in utter awe, staring at him, who at this point took off his mask and was so close to exploding all over the place. “Answer my question!” He demanded, his voice cracking embarrassingly, hurting his “demanding” tone. Y/N pointed a finger right back, “You answer my question first!” They exclaimed dramatically. “... You didn’t… ask a question?” He said slowly in confusion, wondering if the hit gave them a concussion. “Oh yeah… well.. uhhh… why are you Spider-Man?” They questioned quickly, grasping at straws. Peter rubbed his temple in confusion. “Cause I am?” Before he realized what he said, “I-I mean I’m not! I’m not… Spider-Man!” He said, even though he was dressed as Spider-Man and crawling on the ceiling… real convincing man. Somehow trying to salvage himself and prove his previous statement, he pressed the spider symbol on his chest, letting his suit go loose and fall to the ground. “I’m not…” He breathed breathlessly as he now only stood in his underwear, his light blue and white plaid underwear that was one size too big on him.

Y/N’s eyes widened as they stared him up and down, over his newly found muscles and… impressive biceps. “Dude… when did you get so ripped?” They said as they swallowed quickly, they wanted to reach out and touch it but held back… barely. Realizing what he just did, he covered his chest with his arms like an insecure teenage boy at the beach, shirtless for the first time.

“I-I’m not…” He coughed, trying to deepen his rising high pitched voice, “Ripped.” He said in a weirdly deep voice. He waved his hands, “You didn’t answer my question, why are you in my room?” He said so quickly, he was surprised Y/N could understand him. Y/N sighed, rubbing their eyes, “Dude, you told me that you were going to help me study for the Chem final.” They said, like they were the out of breath one here.

Oh shit, yeah, he was gonna do that. Damn you past Peter! Peter let out a shaking breath, rubbing his face. “Okay… Y/N listen to me… you can’t tell anyone about this- especially May! She’ll freak if she knows I’m out there everyday fighting…” He trailed off, his brows furrowing as if trying to converse a silent message to her. Y/N sensed how serious he was about keeping the secret, they nodded, “Yeah, okay…” Peter held out his pinky, “Pinky promise?” He asked, Y/N didn’t even think as they intertwined pinkies with him, shaking their hand. “Pinky promise.” They repeated. A silence filled between them as they sat awkwardly. None of them wanted to talk first, that was until Y/N filled the silence with a very important question. “Can you lay eggs?”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head. “What? No.” “If you impregnated someone could they lay eggs?” Y/N asked, why out of all the questions did it have to be these ones?? Peter felt his entire face turn red as he pulled his hand away from theirs, “W-What? No?!” Peter exclaimed, chuckling nervously at their question. “I-I mean I… never tried but n-no!!” Just then the creaky, wooden bedroom door opened to May standing in the doorway. Peter was now acutely aware of how he was still basically naked, with his best friend, alone. Didn’t look too good. The three stared at each other for a second, before May spoke, “I burnt dinner.” She said simply. “May! I-It’s not what it looks like-” “I know you’re both young-” “It’s not like that!-” “Just put on a shirt-” May, please!” “Peter!” Y/N exclaimed, nodding towards the pajama shirt on his chair near his desk. “Just… put on the shirt.” Peter sighed as he pulled on the shirt quickly, covering his muscular body. May nodded, still trying to process what was going on. “Well once you’re done with,” She gestured to the two teens, “This, I’m picking up food.” She said slowly before shutting the door.

The two sat in an uncomfortable silence, before Y/N ever so kindly commented, “Um, you look really good. Y’know… in your suit.” They said awkwardly, trying to salvage… everything. “Thank you.” Peter said as he turned to face his crush of so long, his cheeks turning a bit red at their complements. … “So when you grew muscles due to your powers, did anything… else, grow?” “Jesus, fuck Y/N.”

-----------

[musingsofheaven]

Say hello to lotus!reader…

“The water was never kind. Still, the lotus bloomed.”

Lotus!Reader who… wears knit sweaters layered over mid-length skirts. She says she likes it because it’s easier to move and more comfortable, and she is lazy because you can just throw it on her body without getting worried about the style. She wears flats with thin soles to still dance while walking or tap nicely when anxious. If she wears heels, they’re barely two inches; she doesn’t want her feet to get hurt. Her outfits are practical but pretty, feminine without ever trying too hard. She dresses like she has somewhere to be, even when she doesn’t.

Lotus!Reader who… only wears blush and lip gloss. She always looks fresh, though. Her cheeks are always a little flushed, like she’s heating up, her mouth always a little shiny, which can be compared with post-makeout lips. She smells like warm laundry and something floral but not overpowering, just enough to stay in the room after she leaves. She doesn’t try to make an impression, but she manages to just go on.

Lotus!Reader who… listens to music more than she speaks. She says it calms her down, makes her forget her emotions, and controls them. Her favorite song is Gypsy by Fleetwood Mac, and she never skips it. She always sings along with it and knows the lyrics by heart. Speakers in the kitchen, headphones by the bed, and a private playlist for when she’s completely alone. Julie Byrne, Weyes Blood, Bedouine, Nick Drake. She doesn’t want to admit it in front of others, but she feels like an old soul. Songs that sound like longing. Music with space in it- something to get lost inside. When she cleans, she dances. Twirls barefoot on hardwood. Doesn’t even realize she’s smiling.

Lotus!Reader who… buys herself flowers every week, or at least twice a month. It’s like a treat to herself, she always thinks it that way. Maybe it calms her. Perhaps she just likes having it in her apartment, something to inhale every morning until it dried and died. Pale lilies, white tulips, eucalyptus, blush-toned stems. She trims the ends like it means something. Rearranges the vase with both hands. It’s not for show. She just likes taking care of pretty things.

Lotus!Reader who… is an introvert with a big heart. She had a large friend group in high school, the one that never got away and just stayed. She was never the loud one. She’s just there. Quiet in the corner. Prefers listening and reading. Never the center. But always the one people turned to when they were hurting. She remembers birthdays. She remembers her favorite snacks. She remembers people. Now she keeps two best friends close and carefully chosen, deeply loved with all her heart. She texts them in all lowercase. Sends links to sad songs. Never says when she’s struggling, but always shows up when they are.

Lotus!Reader who… has an anxious attachment style and hates admitting it. Thinking she’s stable and secure. Types long messages when she’s overwhelmed. Gets worried and has the churn in her stomach, like her instinct always tells her something. Paragraphs full of over-explaining and soft apologies. Says “it’s okay, I get it” before you even answer. But when you do reply, she melts immediately. You can get her to the good side again with just a few words. She responds softly. She puts your comfort above hers, even if she’s still aching.

Lotus!Reader who… always says “thank you” instead of “please.” Not because she’s polite, but because she’s scared of sounding like she wants too much. She always tries to find the words that will make her sound; it won’t make her look small. She folds laundry with care. Labels her pantry. Carries tissues in her sleeve. She disappears into herself when she’s hurt and quiet, cardigan pulled tighter, eyes stuck to the floor. She never wants to be a burden. But sometimes, she just wants someone to hold her without having to be asked.

Lotus!Reader who… feels everything deeply and never shows it first. Sometimes she cries on TikTok. Some random thoughts. At nostalgia. She overthinks compliments. She always overthinks everything and gets embarrassed when teased in public. Smiles politely but goes quiet. She receives the ick when people laugh at emotions. It makes her skin crawl. When they say things like “you’re too sensitive.” She won’t argue. But you’ll feel her pull away.

Lotus!Reader who… pulls her sleeves over her hands when she’s overwhelmed, just wants something to touch, like it will control her feelings. Buys new candles when she’s sad. Uses her Notes app like a diary. Makes to-do lists with boxes to check, even for things she’s already done. Hums while she cooks. Packs her bag like she’s always bracing for the worst.

Lotus!Reader who… is the kind of girl who can spend a whole day alone and feel okay. Saying she loves her own alone time. She needs to get used to it. But still aches when no one asks how she’s doing. She doesn’t need attention. She just wants to feel safe.

Lotus!Reader who… loves gently. Soft. Steadily. With a kind of honesty that startles people. The kind that will scare people. Not because she’s dramatic, but because she means it. It’s one of the traits that makes people run away from her. Every time. She doesn’t know how to love halfway. She never has.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[ptergwen]

im not sure if you’ll see this😭 but can i have reader being like maddy from euphoria, confident, bad bitch, short skirts and she’s dating peter and they have this secret relationship cuz shes popular and hes not so they both go to a party and makes out in the restroom and comes out together and then flash is making fun of them and then she just kisses peter right in front of everyone (im so srry this is long but i hope u see this

out of sight, on his mind ‎♡‧₊˚

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: ?

warnings: making out, suggestiveness, drinking, like one swear

a/n: oh i looooved this idea thank you very much for your service babes :D also don't forget to join my new taglist y'all i only got a couple of you so far & happy reading!

you down a shooter, gagging at the bitter taste of the alcohol. you giggle and stick the tiny bottle in your bra. you're dancing with a group of your friends. one of them takes your hand, the two of you moving to the beat of the music. peter watches you from across the room with the hint of a smile.

he wouldn't typically spend his friday night in the corner of a packed houseparty nursing a cup of jungle juice, but ned insisted they go. his best friend is determined they both up their social statuses this year. they're not too popular at midtown, with the exception of the academic decathlon team.

if people only knew peter was dating one of the most popular girls in school; you.

it was peter's idea to keep your relationship secret. you'd wanted to show him off, but he's too shy. you're always the center of attention, and peter parker doesn't do well with attention. he'd much rather admire you with everyone else in public and be yours in private.

"come on, peter! it's a party! shouldn't we be, like, dancing or something?"

"i don't know, ned. just... drink your juice."

ned takes a generous swig of his drink and cringes. peter chuckles, sipping from his cup.

"what's in jungle juice anyway?"

"um, everything i think. you might blackout if you have too much."

"dude, that's the goal."

you catch peter's eye again. you're holding your friend's arm that's wrapped around your shoulders, hips swaying. you shout along to the music with the rest of the girls in your group. you look so carefree, and so damn good.

the pink, strapless dress you're wearing is hugging your body in all the right places. your hair is styled to perfection, tiny gems dotted along your eyelids. your look is complete with a pair of knee high boots. peter loves your style. there's no way to describe it other than that it's you, who peter adores an insane amount. he wishes he could be as bold as you are.

peter's phone vibrates in his pocket; it's a text from you.

are u watching me?

before he even answers, you send another.

come to the bathroom

peter briefly locks eyes with you. you give him a mischievous smile before slipping away, making some excuse to your friends. he bites his lip to suppress his own grin.

"hey, ned? how about i go get us some refills?"

"bet! i’m gonna dance."

ned hands peter his cup and claps him on the shoulder, disappearing into the crowd. instead of refilling their drinks, peter makes his way to the bathroom. there's a few people waiting in line. knowing you, you've already claimed it from them. he knocks at the door. a hand reaches out and grabs at peter's flannel, pulling him inside.

"hi, baby."

your glossy lips capture peter's in a kiss. he instantly leans into it, but you pull back much to his dismay. his big brown eyes go even bigger.

"woah... hi."

you laugh softly.

"miss me?"

"seems like you missed me too."

"maybe."

you run a hand through peter's hair. his hands settle on your hips.

"sorry for watching you, couldn't help it. you look so pretty tonight."

"i always look pretty."

your tone is playful, but peter knows you mean it, and he couldn't agree more.

"whatcha been up to? you having fun?"

your manicured nails scratch lightly at peter's scalp. he practically purrs at the feeling.

"mm, just been hanging with ned. i don't really know anybody else."

"you know me."

"but you're with your friends."

"so?"

"so... you know i’m shy, princess."

you giggle.

"it's just 'cause you're not drunk enough, baby."

"oh yeah?"

peter's thumbs run up and down your sides, face only inches from yours. you retrieve the shooter from your bra. there's still at least half a shot left.

"open."

peter does as you say and opens his mouth. you take his chin between your fingers and tilt his head back, pouring the rest of the strong, sweet liquid down his throat. he swallows. you toss the bottle aside. peter gives you a look, one that says kiss me. you shake your head, smirking.

you want him to kiss you.

peter's lips smash into yours. his eagerness makes you giggle into the kiss. you grip the collar of his shirt in both hands, lips moving slowly against each other's. peter backs you against the door.

"did i already tell you how pretty you look?"

"mhm, but not enough."

"you're right. you're so pretty."

peter kisses down your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume. you guide his lips back up to yours.

"you are too, y'know."

you peck peter's lips softly, letting your lips linger over his after, eyes searching his. they twinkle. you mesmerize him, truly mesmerize him. you kiss an awe-struck peter properly this time. he holds your waist, head tilted to deepen the kiss.

your make out session is rudely interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"yeah, one second!" you answer. "let's get out of here."

peter groans and buries his face in your neck.

"but i don't want to. wanna keep kissing you."

"not here, baby."

"why not?"

he leaves more kisses on your neck. you coax peter away, laughing, his arms still wrapped tight around you.

"the line. wanna find somewhere else?"

peter perks up at that.

"okay, let's go."

you lead peter out of the bathroom. he follows, hand in yours. even though no one seems to pay any mind to the fact that you were in the bathroom together, peter can't help but blush. he doesn't make it out unscathed, though; none other than flash thompson notices him.

"penis parker, is that you?"

you stop walking, eyeing flash over your shoulder. peter lets out an exasperated sigh.

"what's up, flash?"

"you are."

peter looks down to see an obvious bulge in his jeans. his cheeks burn hotter, hand leaving yours to readjust himself. a few people turn around to look.

"y/n's a big step up from your imaginary girlfriend. where'd you say she was from again, canada?"

you narrow your eyes at flash, a hand wrapping around peter's bicep.

"do you know him?"

"yeah, we're... friends. sort of. we do academic decathlon together."

your gaze shifts to peter.

"friends?"

"oh yeah, we go way back. any friend of parker's is a friend of mine."

flash smirks at you. you look him up and down, face scrunched in disgust.

"ew."

more people are starting to watch the exchange. you glare at flash, who holds your gaze knowingly. peter can tell you're about to go into protective girlfriend mode. he squeezes your hand that's on his arm.

"anyways, just wanted to congratulate you on your first baddie," flash tells him. "try not to fumble."

before peter can process what's happening, your lips are on his, hands cupping his cheeks to keep him in place. maybe it's just because he's tipsy, but peter actually finds himself having the courage to kiss you back in front of everyone. you smile at this. he holds you by your waist, letting himself enjoy the kiss for a while longer.

peter's lips are puffy and covered in your gloss when you two pull apart. he draws you in closer to himself, giving you one more short kiss, then another. the two of you earn whistles and chatter from everyone watching. you giggle, thumbs caressing peter's cheeks and gaze meeting his.

there's something in his eyes that you haven't seen before; confidence. he might be shy, but not when it comes to you. not anymore.

you look over at flash smugly, his mouth dropped open.

"he won't."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee

[t-lostinworlds]

Treasure Be Damned | Nathan Drake

》 PAIRING: movie!nathan drake x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: childhood best friends to lovers; angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: Nathan wished it didn't take something drastic to happen for him to finally realize what he felt for you. And no matter how much that gold was worth, you will always be his greatest treasure.

》 WARNINGS: both are orphans (mentioned), tech genius!reader, protective!nathan, switch pov halfway thru, kinda canon divergent (a.k.a. i made slight changes to some scenes from the movie), pining, jealousy jealousy, idiots in love, some angst, kidnapping, canon level violence, injuries, love confessions and a cute fluffy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.4k+

A/N: hello! me again with another fic. this may seem super random but this was commissioned by the lovely @theslayerofthevampires ! thank u so so much hun <3 my first ever commission btw. trying to stick to a certain word count was actually quite interesting to me alskalsk but this was fun to write and i hope i did it justice!

+ also i couldn't think of a better title and the summary is kinda cheesy but we love cheese in this house so alksalkslaks

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

You and Nathan had been best friends for as long as you could remember.

When he punched a guy twice his size all because they made you cry on your first day at the orphanage, he quickly gained your trust and loyalty. It was reciprocated when you dumped all your lunch on a kid when they poked fun about why his brother left him.

You two had been inseparable ever since.

Nathan was protective of you, and you were protective of him.

As years passed, that protectiveness only grew tenfold. With it came the care and affection that went from strictly platonic to something warmer, sweeter.

For you, at least.

You couldn't pinpoint when it started, all you knew was that everything Nathan did for you suddenly felt special—like it was solely for you.

The change wasn't outright. It was a slow realization, when the little things he did made your heart grow warmer and beat faster all the same.

At first, you thought it was a simple crush—a silly phase, that with time, it would fade.

But no.

As months moved to years, it went from something that lingered to something you couldn't escape from.

The moment you truly figured that what you felt about him wasn't as simple as an adoration for your best friend was on your eighteenth birthday.

Nathan had spent all the money he saved from working odd—and honest, he made sure to make that known—jobs on a silver necklace.

Maybe you watched way too many romcoms, maybe it was all in your rose-tinted head, but there was an underlying romance in the way he stood behind you, so close and warm, as he put the necklace on for you.

With bated breath, you let him, trying your best not to melt over his simple touch. His fingertips brushed against your skin so delicately but felt electric in all the right ways.

You only regained your breathing when he finally stepped back. Yet he took it away a moment later when he gently tapped the charm—shaped like a compass—sitting between your collarbone, a fond smile on his lips when he said,

"So you'll always find your way back to me."

How could you not fall in love?

What a cliché.

Falling in love with your childhood best friend.

It would've been cute if it was reciprocated.

But whatever he saw you as was strictly platonic.

You were constantly reminded of how unrequited your love was with the hook-ups he brought back to the apartment.

You had agreed to be his roommate to help lessen the expenses. Even though you had only recently moved in together, you were starting to doubt if it was a good idea—for your heart's sake, anyway.

It didn't even stop there.

Because here you were once again, sporting an ache in your chest as you watched him flirt with a blonde girl at the bar.

As much as you enjoyed visiting him at work, seeing him flirt with the pretty customers regularly will always leave a bad taste in your mouth.

Jealousy.

A feeling you shouldn't be entertaining in the first place. You were just a best friend. You had no right to go all green-eyed whenever you saw him with another girl.

Nathan Drake wasn't yours.

You didn't even realize that you were too deep into your thoughts until a familiar voice brought you out of it.

"You okay?"

You blinked, looking up to see Nathan regarding you with brows furrowed in concern.

"Huh?"

"You've been glaring at that thing for a good minute now," he explained, nodding at the personalized cocktail he made for you.

He always did that whenever you stopped by, experimenting with new mixes he thought you'd enjoy solely based on how well he knew you. You give him your honest feedback in return. It was your own little game.

"Is it bad?"

"No, no, no," you said, taking a sip before smiling. "I liked it."

"Just 'like', damn. I need to step up my game," he sighed in feigned disappointment. When you didn't react as much, he added, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Nathan looked at you for a moment, lips pursed as he shook his head.

"You're such a bad liar."

"I'm not," you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes. "You just know me so well."

"I do," he hummed, grin turning proud. "I also know when something's bothering you so, what's up?"

"Girl things." You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. You could tell it confused him, because he was never uncomfortable to talk about those topics with you. But before he could even question it, you quickly added, "I think I'm going to head home first. You didn't forget your keys, right?"

"That was one time," he grumbled, eyeing you for a moment because he obviously didn't buy your excuse. A second later, he sighed, "Yeah, I got my keys."

"Okay, See you later," you said, gathering up your things before walking towards the door.

"Let me know if you get home safe," he called out.

You only threw him a salute in response.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

It was the harsh light from the huge window in the living room that woke you up.

You must have fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of watching your comfort movie—a poor attempt at trying to distract yourself from your lovelorn predicament.

Who knew dealing with feelings could be so exhausting?

It was the smell of bacon that coaxed you out of your cocoon, though. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Nathan greeted as soon as you stepped into the kitchen. He threw you a warm smile over his shoulder before he continued making breakfast—shirtless, might you add. "There are painkillers beside your water in case your neck is killing you. I would've carried you back to your bed but you kick in your sleep and I've learned my lesson so…"

It did happen once.

He was trying to coax you off the couch and back into the comfort of your bed. But as he got closer, your leg having a mind of its own when you were deeply asleep, you kicked him straight in his jewels—his words, not yours.

The loud thud of him falling on the floor didn't even shake you awake, not even when he was groaning in pain. 

You couldn't even remember any of it.

"How many times do I have to apologize for you to let that go?" you chuckled, settling at your usual seat at the small dining table you had.

"Not enough," he snorted. "I still feel the phantom of the kick, you know."

"You're so dramatic." You rolled your eyes, glancing around only to catch a glimpse of that old yet familiar green trunk. It was then you noticed some of his old stuff littered around, trinkets and memorabilia he hadn't looked at in a while. Just as you were about to question him about it, you saw the excited look on his face. You narrowed your eyes, asking, "Did I miss something?"

"Quite a lot, actually," he chuckled, sauntering over to you with your breakfast for the day. Putting the full plate in front of you, Nathan leaned down and quickly kissed your forehead. "Eat. I'll tell you all about it."

You ignored the phantom of his lips on your skin.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

A treasure hunt.

Nathan dragged you into a treasure hunt.

You didn't trust this Victor Sullivan guy, but Nate seemed to be adamant about finding this gold in hopes of finding Sam too. And you trust your best friend's judgment so that made Sully a friend of your best friend, much to your dismay.

"Do I look okay?" you asked, straightening out your long, black evening gown as you emerged out of the makeshift changing room.

When you didn't hear an answer, you looked up to see Nathan staring at you with a certain look in his eyes.

Your face warmed. "What?"

"Okay?" he scoffed, shaking his head as if he was offended by the word you used. With a gentle smile, he gestured at you with both hands. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks. You don't look bad yourself," you responded with a shy smile, unable to hold his gaze for much longer. You fixed your entangled necklace, instead.

"Here, let me," he said, quickly walking over to you to straighten it out, his touch featherlight against your skin. "It's a gorgeous necklace. The guy who gave this to you has good taste."

"If good taste means licking his own ass, then, it's a bit questionable."

"Okay, gross," he playfully grimaced. "All I'm saying is that I picked the right one for you."

"You did." You smiled fondly. 

"Perfect," he hummed with a smile, his gaze slowly trailing from your necklace up to your eyes, his next words barely even a whisper. "You're perfect."

You didn't know if it was even meant for your ears but you could only stand there, staring into his brown eyes that seemed to shift from one emotion to another.

Nathan was about to say something when Sully came out of nowhere with that grumpy look on his face.

"Why are we bringing her again?" he asked as if you weren't standing in front of him.

"She's a genius with computers," Nathan said, a bite in his tone. "She's going to help us get through any security tech easy breezy."

Sully narrowed his eyes between you two before shrugging.

"Fine," he grumbled, looking you up and down before walking away. "We leave in ten minutes."

"I don't think he likes me very much," you sighed once the door shut.

"I don't think he likes anyone," Nathan said, smiling at you reassuringly. "Don't take it personally."

And you didn't. Truly.

But when you got to the auction house, it definitely felt more personal when the old man wouldn't tell you anything.

No communication. No updates. No information. Nothing.

Only when you ask Nathan directly were you able to get a grasp of what was going on or when to proceed to the next step—if he wasn't distracted.

With the countless pretty ladies dressed to the nines, you best believe he wasn't anywhere near focused.

You were angry because this was a dire situation. One wrong move could get you guys caught. You were too goddamn young for prison.

You definitely weren't bitter over something else.

"Do you always feel the need to flirt with anything that walks?" you spat when he finally reached the door you'd been trying so hard to keep open without getting caught. It took him three minutes more since he was busy chatting up some random trust fund girl.

"I wasn't—Jesus," he grunted, the door hitting him on the way as you walked past it.

You couldn't be bothered to wait anymore. You didn't look back and simply sped walk towards the power switch.

"You're upset," Nathan said once he caught up with you.

"I'm not upset," you grumbled. "I'm annoyed."

"It's the same thing."

"It's fucking not."

"Okay, geez," he conceded, pouting, "What'd I do?"

"What aren't you doing?" you asked sarcastically, harshly tapping on your phone as you tried to decode the security lock on the main switch. "Oh right, focusing on your job!"

"Christ, do you two always bicker like an old married couple?"

"Shut up!" you and Nathan barked synchronously.

Shaking your head, you calmed yourself, punching in the security code.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright? I was just trying to scope potential—"

You glared at him.

"I'm shutting up."

"Just do your thing. I want this over and done with," you grumbled, stepping aside once the circuit box finally opened.

"You're a genius," he praised with a smile, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. "Thank you."

"Whatever."

You wished you could say everything went smooth sailing from there, but when did it ever?

Everything happened so fast.

One minute you two were walking out of the control room, the next you were being chased down but huge men.

Running in heels was not fun.

And then it was a blur, someone grabbing your arm in a way that made you scream in pain to Nathan tackling the guy to the ground, landing blow after blow to his face until blood started to splatter on the suit he was wearing.

"Touch her again and I'll kill you."

You'd never seen him so angry before.

But that anger quickly disappeared when he fussed over you, hands soft against your cheeks yet the panic and worry were evident in his eyes.

It took several 'I'm fine's and a couple more reassurances that you weren't badly hurt to get him to fully calm down and help you up so you could get out of this place.

Unbeknownst to you, there were curious eyes watching everything closely with a knowing yet wicked smile on her lips.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

You thought the feeling of being outcasted was only a small blip at the auction house.

But you were so wrong.

"What happened to you?" you asked when he finally met up with you at the church in Barcelona, soaking wet from head to toe.

"Long story."

"So you brought your girlfriend with you" A girl—Chloe, you later learned—suddenly appeared.

"She's not my girlfriend," Nathan quickly corrected.

Yes, it was true.

But the way he shut it down so quickly as if the thought made him hurl made the sting harsher.

It didn't take long for you to notice how Nathan seemed to be following Chloe around a lot.

So much so that you were becoming more of an afterthought.

They were always conspiring amongst themselves. It was in their line of expertise, you supposed, and you were just the tech girl. But it wasn't like you were clueless about it. Nate has told you enough stories for you to get the gist of what was going on.

It was getting pathetic, trailing behind them like some puppy, wanting to feel included.

When Nathan argued with Sully that you were not leaving his side when it was time to split up, you could only laugh at it now.

What was the point when you were immediately alone when you got into the tunnels?

Even more as you stood by yourself at the club, watching him dance with Chloe, so close, in the guise of blending in.

Maybe if you weren't distracted you would've noticed the man sneaking up behind you. You would've been able to run before he could grab you from behind, hand over your mouth as he started dragging you backward. And maybe you were quite good at kicking someone's jewels when you hit the jackpot the first time, enabling you to escape and scream for help.

You were yelling Nathan's name, but it was the loud gunshot that caught his attention.

It was heartbreaking to think that it took you getting shot in the leg for him to fully acknowledge you.

You were overwhelmed with too many emotions that you became numb, simply letting them take you back to the safe house in silence.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he sat by your temporary bed, carefully wrapping the bandage on your thigh after he cleaned it. Thankfully, the bullet was only meant to slow you down, not kill. "I'm supposed to be looking out for you."

"It's fine," you sighed. You knew he was being sincere. He looked thoroughly distraught when he saw you drop to the ground. You knew it wasn't his fault, and you knew he was already blaming himself enough. But with the pain and bitterness—both physically and emotionally—you couldn't stop it. "You were busy. I get it."

He frowned. "What's with that tone?" 

"There's no tone," you grumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"You're annoyed."

You shook your head. "I'm not annoyed.'

"So…you're upset," he hummed, reaching for your hands. You pulled away, carefully getting comfortable on the bed.

"I'm going to sleep," you sighed, pulling the covers over you.

Nathan got the hint, standing from his seat with a sigh, "Okay, goodnight, just…call me if you need anything."

So when you woke up in the middle of the night when a sudden sting went up your leg, you quickly yet carefully got out of bed to look for him.

You wish you hadn't bothered.

The last thing you wanted to see was him and Chloe getting cozy on the balcony, a bottle of wine between them.

You figured you weren't important enough to interrupt their moment. Besides, the ache in your leg couldn't compare to the absolute pain in your heart. It only intensified when they started leaning toward each other.

So you quickly went back to bed, tainting the pillowcase with salted tears.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Here." Nathan kneeled in front of the foot of the bed, tying your shoelaces for you. "So, I've been thinking…"

"Uh oh," you joked.

"Maybe you should sit this one out."

Your smile quickly got wiped off your face.

"What?"

Nathan glanced at the door. You followed his gaze, catching a glimpse of Chloe before she hurriedly walked away.

You pressed your lips, nodding in understanding.

"It's not what you think it is," Nathan placated.

"Sure it's not," you scoffed.

"Look, you're injured and—"

You stood up, abruptly cutting him off. You grabbed your bag, limping around the room as you gathered your stuff.

"Woah careful, your wound is still fresh," Nathan followed you around, arms out in case you stumbled. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving. That's what you wanted, right?"

"What? No!" he rushed, hands on your shoulder, stopping you. "What I meant was, you need to recover first."

"Right," you scoffed, shrugging him off before you continued packing. "Because  it's going to be dangerous and you're looking out for me, trying to protect me and all that bullshit."

"It's not bullshit!"

"You know, after all we've been through, I thought I could count on you to at least be honest with me," you said bitterly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," you pressed, harshly zipping up your bag. "If you wanted me out of the picture, you could've just said so."

Shaking his head, he argued, "That's not it."

"Maybe," you said, looking him straight in the eyes. "But fewer people, more gold to go around, right?"

That rendered him silent.

"You've known me your whole life," he started, hurt flickering in his irises. "You really think I'd do that to you?"

"I don't know anymore, Nate." You threw your hands up exasperatedly. "Because ever since you met them, I barely recognize you anymore. You've been wanting their approval so bad you're getting desperate for it. 

"And I always thought that when we get the chance to find this treasure, we'll do it together, side by side like we always do. But all I've done this whole time is be a third wheel to whatever this is." You gestured at him and the door, laughing sarcastically. "Fourth, if you include Sully."

"That's not true," he argued weakly, realization dawning on his face.

"You whisper among yourselves, nobody tells me a fucking thing, you don't even tell me anything anymore! I'm always left chasing after you because you couldn't be bothered waiting for me to catch up. Fine, I might not know everything about this treasure but it'd be nice to get filled in every once in a while instead of leaving me clueless! Hell, you're starting to forget you brought your best friend with you—"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"You didn't even notice I was getting dragged away until I was shot!"

Nathan looked away.

"All of you are always excluding me and it sucks," your voice cracked, blinking away unshed tears. "And don't think I didn't see you conspiring with Chloe last night."

He looked confused. "Last night?"

"When I came looking for my best friend for help because my leg was hurting like a bitch but I didn't want to be a cockblock so, you're welcome."

"You're not—" Nathan cleared his throat, shoulders slumping, looking at you apologetically. "Y/N…"

You shook your head, harshly wiping at your eyes, putting your jacket on. "The more it goes on, the more I think that you just brought me along because it was convenient for you. Now that I'm considered a liability, gotta leave the extra baggage right?"

"That's not fucking true!" he gritted, pulling his hair frustratedly. "You're part of this as much as I am!"

"Right. Where are we going next?"

Nathan blubbered like a fish out of water.

"That's what I thought," you scoffed, slipping your backpack on.

"Wait, dammit," he cursed when you walked past him, chasing after you into the living room. Frustrated, he called out, "All I'm asking is for you to sit this part out because you're hurt."

You stopped, slowly facing him.

"I never thought that the loneliest I'd ever feel is when I'm supporting you to chase this dream you'd been wanting ever since you were a kid," you admitted, chest tightening as you stared into his troubled brown eyes. "So, I'm not sitting this one out, Nate, I'm done." 

You shoved the cross right on his chest.

"Have fun on your honeymoon," you said, bumping his shoulder as you walked out the door.

"Y/N!"

You never looked back.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Nathan was smart in a lot of different aspects. But emotions and feelings?

Oh he was stupid as fuck.

He wished it didn't take something drastic to happen for him to accept what he truly felt for you.

Part of him was relieved because at least you weren't there when the plane fiasco happened, especially with your injury. He was appeasing his guilt by telling himself that you were safer this way.

Nathan wouldn't know what to do with himself if something worse happened to you.

But as he was decoding the postcards Sam sent—a difficult task to focus on when he couldn't stop worrying about you so much—Chloe suddenly came in with a package.

"It has your name on it."

He opened it confused, but nothing could prepare him for what was inside.

The dread and fear started to creep up his spine when he held the silver necklace he gave you.

You never took this off.

As he emptied the box in a rush, photos upon photos of you tied up and gagged, beaten and bruised with blood tainting your delicate skin, Nathan felt like his entire heart was taken from him.

'The map or her. Choose wisely.'

It came in flashes, moments where you'd been there for each other, the joy and heartbreak, success and failures—you were always there, his one constant.

Then came the moments where he dreamed about you and him, doing things best friends shouldn't be doing.

He always knew what he felt about you but he shoved it down in fear of ruining the friendship you'd built over the years. But now? Denying it seemed insignificant. Now there was a chance he wouldn't be able to tell you at all.

Nathan was losing the love of his life.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"That didn't take long," Braddock laughed sardonically, standing up from a large rock nestled on the beach somewhere in the Philippines.

"Where is she," Nathan growled, the tube map holder slung on his back.

Braddock nodded at one of her men, Nathan's heart sinking to his stomach when they dragged you in, your yelp piercing his chest when they shoved you on the sand.

Nathan instinctively tried to run for you.

"Not so fast," Braddock hummed, clicking her gun before pressing it on the back of your head. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"I think you already figured out I don't play games when it comes to her."

"Well, let's see," she challenged. "On your knees, Drake."

"N-Nate," you whimpered, adamantly shaking your head. Even in your state, you were still trying to protect him.

"It's okay," he reassured with a smile, hands up as he did as told.

Braddock grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you closer to where he was.

He stifled his anger. But best believe he'd already plotted so many ways to make Braddock suffer for what she did to you.

But one wrong move could cost your life.

"Hand it over."

"Untie her."

Braddock rolled her eyes but did so anyway.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Nathan whispered, your tear-filled eyes meeting his. He lifted his chin once, gaze flickering behind you. "I got you, okay? You're going to be okay."

"Enough with this sappy bullshit. Hand over the map or she dies."

Nathan slowly grabbed the map, only to throw it away as far as possible.

On cue, a huge explosion distracted Braddock enough for you to abruptly stand on your feet, hitting her under the chin with your head.

"You bitch!" she yelled, dropping the gun.

Nathan quickly pulled you aside and grabbed the weapon. With no remorse, he shot Braddock on both thighs, once more on the arm to be petty.

He'd do much worse if you weren't on borrowed time.

Nathan grabbed your hand and made a run for it.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The silence was tense.

But Nathan was focused on taking care of you first.

He was busy enough trying not to cry whenever he'd discover a new cut and bruise on you that he couldn't even dwell on the fact that you were showering together. You were both in your underwear, but still.

It was when he had you sitting on the counter as he patched you up when you spoke.

"You didn't have to do all that for me."

"You know, it hurts me so much that you think I wouldn't take a bullet for you," he sighed, finishing up a bandage before meeting your glossy eyes. "You're more important to me than you think you are."

"No, I know it's just—" You bit your bruised lip. Nathan quickly pulled it away with his thumb, not wanting you to worsen your injury. You leaned into his touch as you continued, "You've been dreaming of this since you were a kid and I feel like I've ruined it for you."

"You didn't ruin anything."

"But you should be out there looking for the gold," you said. "Instead you're stuck here with me."

"Listen to me, if I had to choose between that gold and—" He took a breath, holding your face in both hands as he stared at you longingly. "The woman I'm hopelessly in love with then…"

Nathan breathed out with a smile, "Fuck that gold."

You stared at him in a way that made him believe that he'd done it.

He'd finally ruined your friendship to a point of no return.

That until you broke out into the sweetest, brightest smile that made his heart grow and his knees weak all the same.

"It's not as hopeless as you think it is."

Nathan felt like his heart was about to burst.

"Yeah?" He grinned, giddy and warm, gently parting your legs and stepping a little closer.

You let him into your space. But suddenly your brows furrowed, frowning. "What about you and Chloe?"

"So you were jealous."

"Nate."

"There's no me and Chloe," he reassured, gently taking your hands, kissing the insides of your wrists before placing them on his shoulders. "Maybe I got the incredibly stupid idea to make you jealous—I know, baby, I'm an idiot—but she shot that down real quick."

"But—"

"Those times you've seen me with her, all I kept talking about was you," he admitted, blushing. "I'm sure she'd grown sick of me being lovesick."

Nathan probably talked her ear out about how hopelessly in love he was with you, seeking advice on what to do because it was the one thing he couldn't go to you about.

She had been really helpful, pushing him to confess because it was better you know before it's too late, and that in this line of work, you'd never know when that would be.

If only he hadn't let his cowardness win.

"She argued with me that leaving you behind was a bad idea, and if I listened to her I—" He pressed his forehead against yours with a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."

"I know you like to take all the blame but this isn't your fault," you hummed, fingers combing the straggles of hair on the nape of his neck.

"It kind of is," he pressed, eyes watering as he thought about what he dragged you into.

He couldn't stop thinking about the pain you'd gone through all because he was being reckless. For as long as he could remember, he made a vow to himself to always keep you safe no matter what. Yet here he was, failing at that—failing you.

"I'm sorry for being such a shitty best friend this past week," he said, caressing the apples of your cheeks.

"You were pretty shitty," you teased, though he could see the way your body relaxed a little. He could tell that you appreciated hearing his apology. It must've been weighing on you since you left.

It made his heart ache.

"I was and I'm sorry," he said regretfully. "I guess I just got so caught up in this whole treasure-hunting thing that I lost sight of what's truly important to me. But still, it's no excuse. I was the one who dragged you into this, I should've been attentive enough."

You turned your head and kissed his palm, a silent way of saying it was okay. He felt like he was about to melt.

"And I'm sorry for taking so goddamn long to tell you how I feel," Nathan admitted.

"Yeah well," you hummed, smiling at him sweetly. "We're both at fault on that one,"

"Still, I'm sorry," he whispered, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "For everything."

You nodded, a smile on your lips. "I can't say I forgive yet—"

"Understandable."

"But hey," you hummed, leaning closer. "You have plenty of time to grovel and make up for it."

Nathan chuckled, brushing his lips against yours with a whisper, "Can I start with a kiss?"

You nodded with that cute giggle of yours, one that still echoed as he finally closed the distance.

So many things filled him up at once—soft, sweet, warm. So many emotions rattling his heart as your lips molded into one—relief, passion, love.

It was gratifying, a kiss he'd been dreaming of for as long as he could remember. But, with your fingers in his hair and his hands on your waist, your warm body flushed to his with no space in between, nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

And yes, it was going to take some time to repair the cracks that were made in your relationship. But he was willing to wait and do whatever it takes to gain your full trust back.

Nathan didn't care how long or how much work it would take, as long as at the end of every day, you came back home to him—it was more than worth it.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Kid, are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, Sully," Nathan said unapologetically. "But whatever the wife says, goes and her plan is usually better than yours."

"I'm technically not your wife yet," you giggled, your engagement ring glinting as you continued bypassing the security cameras using your phone.

"Technically, yes," he agreed, shrugging. "But in my head, you've been my wife ever since you put that ring on."

"Always thinking ahead, huh?" You finished up the job, slipping your phone into your pocket before turning to him with a raised brow.

"Oh yeah," he hummed, pulling you closer by the waist. "And once we get married, in my head, we already have three kids."

"Three?" you choked out a laugh.

"Five?"

"Let's start with one and see where that goes."

"We should definitely practice later."

"Do I always have to remind you two that this is an open line?"

"Oh we know," Nathan hummed, kissing you with a loud smack which earned an annoyed groan. He then gestured at the door with a bow. "After you, Mrs. Drake."

"Still up for debate."

"I'd take your last name any day."

"I was thinking hyphenated."

"Not a bad shout."

"Get moving you two!"

"Sully, you're getting so close to getting your wedding invite revoked."

You laughed at that.

Nathan couldn't resist kissing you once more.

"Let's go," you giggled against his lips. "We still have treasure to find."

"I'm in no rush," he shrugged, brushing his nose against yours. He was sure his eyes were glowing with pure adoration. "Already got the best one right here."

You groaned and called him cheesy but you still kissed him anyway.

Treasure be damned, with you by his side, Nathan was the richest man alive.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can ❤️

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

[im-sleepdeprived]

do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again. 

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him.  The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away. 

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion. 

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged. 

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad. 

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch. 

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it. 

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved. 

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.” 

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place. 

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her. 

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight. 

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already. 

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything. 

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book. 

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving. 

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. 

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you. 

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together. 

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more. 

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter. 

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten. 

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge. 

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly. 

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe. 

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response. 

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird. 

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail. 

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay.  He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start. 

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that. 

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away. 

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred. 

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay. 

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again. 

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault. 

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated. 

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. 

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you. 

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe. 

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit. 

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home. 

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away. 

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer. 

Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead. 

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face. 

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!” 

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again. 

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him. 

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging. 

[terrifictomholland]

my art, my muse

So, quite some time ago I said on here I'd write for Tom and well - here it is! It's been a fun ride! As always I can't help but to thank @worldoftom for being the very best beta a girl could ask for! So thank you very very much darling!

word count: 6.9K

warnings: look this is nothing but absolute filth! its got a whole bunch of stuff lmao - but oral (female and male) dirty talk, spitting (ooops) slight dom-Tom, please please please, if you are under 18, don't read this I don't want to corrupt youngsters!

Without further ado, enjoy!

The doorbell rang when you opened the door, entering the tattoo shop that you spotted on a whim. The idea had been brewing in your head for some time now to get a piece done, but you hadn’t been quite sure as to what to get done. The smell of leather and disinfectant burrowing into your nostrils, somewhat of a comforting smell and the sound of a tattoo-gun in use. 

“Yo! Welco- holy shit!” a curly red-haired guy cut himself off seeing you from a seat behind a counter. Your head swiveled around looking behind you as to why this guy cursed the way he did. 

“Y’alright?” you mused seeing the slight red tint on his cheeks. “I’ll willingly put money in the shit-I–say jar in a second, but I just know you’re my brothers’ walking sex-on-legs dream come true right now.” He explained and a raucous laugh exploded out of you, your head thrown back from the unexpected comment. 

“Oh? Who’s this brother of yours then?” you asked cheekily and the red-haired guy grinned. “He’s gonna be doing your tattoo seeing as how his client just cancelled on him, so you’re in luck to torture him,” he schemed and you grinned even more. 

“How interesting, thank you for the information,” to which he bowed his head. “Always happy to put Tom in a hard position,” that innuendo didn’t go unnoticed by you as you laughed once again. 

“Anyway, what’s your name? and more importantly what are you getting done and where?” He asked wiggling his eyebrows. “Aren’t you a cheeky bugger? M’names Y/N. As for the tattoo, only for me and well, Tom to know and you too maybe, find out if you’re lucky,” you winked and his eyes glittered.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Harry and I must say, Tom might just have met his match,” he held out his hand to which you took and shook. 

It was very fun and lighthearted talking to Harry while this infamous brother of his, Tom, finished doing some work on another client. While you waited, you and Harry made some idle chit-chat and you looked around in the shop.

It was surprisingly airy and neat, a light green with dark wood finishes. Tiny knick-knacks of things that seemed like they were personal to the brothers. Such as different but very cool mulled wine bottles, an array of different Marvel figurine bobble-heads - actually, a bunch of different Spider-Man bobble-heads for some reason. 

“Hazza? Why are there so many bobble-heads of Spider-man?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Hmm, Tom’s obsession since he was little,” he shrugged and you nodded continuing on to look at some very professional looking photos of a guy tattooing a client. You presumed the artist was Tom, but you couldn’t see his face. Only his gloved hand holding a tattoo gun working on a very detailed rose piece. It was stunning, both the photograph and the design of the piece. 

“Who took this photo?” You couldn’t look away from the various photos that hung on the walls, all in the same kind of style, showcasing the talent of both the photographer and the tattoo artist. They worked brilliantly together and it really showed.

“Oh! I did, I’ve shot all of these photos in here actually,” you could hear the pride in his voice and you turned to him, giving him a wide smile, “these are incredible,” to which his cheeks turned an adorable red hue. 

“Thank you,” he said modestly, “but in all fairness, Tom’s a really good sport in letting me hover over him when he’s working, he makes my job fairly easy,” he told you earnestly and so far, from all that Harry had said about this Tom, he seemed to be a really good and stand-up guy. “That’s a really nice thing to say about your sibling. But, may I ask where this brother of yours is? Not that you’re not impeccable company,” you winked.

“This brother of his is right here,” a raspy voice said from behind and you saw Harry grin and throw you a wink as you turned around. 

Oh boy.

What Harry had seemed to forgot to mention was that Tom was sex-on-legs for you, because damn oh damn. 

Standing against the door-frame to a room in the back, was easily the hottest guy you’d ever laid eyes on. You felt him give you a once-over as you did the same. Time suspended for a moment as you drank all of his features in. 

Black fitted jeans, showing off what looked to be very strong and muscled thighs which you wouldn’t mind climbing all over. Your eyes wandered further up over to his chest and arms, he was wearing a white simple t-shirt that he made look a million bucks. A broad chest and neck which you wouldn’t be opposed as to sink your teeth in and really mark him up. 

An air of confidence about the way he held and carried himself, something slightly dangerous, but in the best and more enthralling way. He wasn’t afraid to show you who was boss, and for him? You’d abso-fucking-lutely let him. 

But the killer? For sure his arms, splattered with tattoos, at first seemingly random ones but the closer you looked, they weren’t random at all. They all told a story - the story of Tom. 

You couldn’t really take your eyes off of his arms. So defined and fucking hot, his biceps were stuff you wrote poems about. So well-sculpted, as though he was made of marble. Veins running all over his forearms that just pulled you in. 

Veiny arms and hands were your ultimate weakness and something told you that he knew he was hot-shit, by the way his eyes raked all over you. 

“You’re Tom?” you cleared your throat once and a smirk formed at the corner of his lips. “The one and only,” his voice was ever so slightly husky and raspy when he spoke to you and you shuddered in delight. 

All of a sudden, getting a tattoo today was the best goddamn decision you’d made in ages if it meant getting to spend the rest of your day in the company of Tom.

He had the perfect face, a jaw sharp enough to cut glass, dark brown eyes that could read you like a book and the most perfectly kissable lips. Which you wanted to do, very badly. 

“and you are?” he prodded and you snapped out of your own little world which was full of Tom, all over you and very sweaty. “Hmm? Oh! I’m Y/N,” you recovered giving him a slight smile. 

“Nice t’meet ya,” he pushed off the door frame to come closer to you, giving you his outstretched hand. 

Fuck, he smelled intoxicatingly good as well. As if he didn’t already have everything going for him. 

“You too,” you said taking his hand and shaking it confidently and he licked his lips when your hands met, briefly looking down on them. “Wanna head back?” You swore his voice deepened ever so slightly when he said that, or it was merely your imagination. He smirked once again and you knew he knew the effects he had on you. “Lead the way,” you said and you could hear Harry snickering behind you, having watched your exchange.

“Don’t forget to wrap it before you tap it!” He shouted and you couldn’t help but the mortified laugh as Tom flipped him off. 

“Well that’s professional,” you smirked taking a seat in the chair. “What can I say, if he can dish it out he can damn well take it too,” he shrugged nonchalantly taking a seat on his chair, facing to look at you. 

“So, what are you wanting done?” all of a sudden his voice changed and he was back to professional Tom which made you smile to yourself, “I’d like a mandala,” you said after a beat seeing him pull out an iPad, pulling up a programme in where he started to draw on it. 

“Yeah? That’s cool, anything specific you want in the mandala? A specific pattern or so?” he prodded having already started to work on a design for you. 

“Nah I’m good, putting my faith in you not to fuck me up,” you grinned cheekily and he snorted, “Thanks for the vote of confidence,”.

“Anytime,” you winked and he let out a small laugh. “What about this?” he turned the iPad after a moment and you were rendered speechless, he’d drawn up the most gorgeous mandala design you’d ever laid eyes on. “Yeah, yep it’s perfect,” you hummed not being able to take your eyes off it. He smiled proudly seeing the way you looked at it, feeling a burst of warmth inside of him. 

“Where do you want it?” 

“My thigh, please,” he nodded, eyes landing on your thigh, ever so slightly moving upwards which made your insides clench. “How big?” he asked, his eyes landing on yours and you flushed imagining something else entirely. “The piece?” he added when you were still far too in your own head and your cheeks heated even more now and he smirked - a devious look in his eyes. “Oh, um, I was thinking maybe half of my upper thigh? Would it be a good size?” watching the way he fiddled on the iPad for a moment before a stencil came from the machine by all of his equipment and he smiled at you, “I think it’ll be good, I’m just gonna place it on you and if you’re not happy with it we’ll change it because I won’t let you leave here unhappy okay?” his eyes shone with earnest and it made butterflies erupt inside of you. 

“Thank you,” you gave him a warm smile and he returned it before gloving up in a black latex glove and he put some lotion on the tip of his finger, rubbing it on your skin and placing the stencil there. 

You couldn’t help but to stare at him as he worked, eyebrows pinched together in concentration, lips pursed as he moved quickly and swiftly with precision, you felt utterly at ease in his more than capable hands. 

And oh, those hands. 

Albeit gloved up, those hands were something else entirely. From the glance you got before he put those gloves on, they were slender, long and veiny in all the right places. Not to mention how skillful they were, oozed a certain kind of confidence that could completely unravel you. 

“Have a look and say what you think of the placement, if anything feels wrong we’ll fix it,” he urged, and you stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror he had and you looked at it, both in the mirror and down on your thigh. 

“It’s so good, it’s the perfect place,” he grinned feeling happy with himself you could tell. “Thank you, that makes me happy to hear,” he grinned right back and you went back to his chair that he had wrapped in cling-film while you admired your soon-to-be tattoo. 

“I’m taking it you’ve done this before, but even if it’s been a while, just a quick reminder,” he started and to be frank, you didn’t hear much of what he said except all of the innuendos he’d managed to capture in that one single sentence. “If at any point, you start feeling woozy, or just really fatigued, tell me or tap my shoulder and I’ll stop okay? I’ve got juice and snacks so just tell me yeah? I really don’t fancy you fainting in my chair,” the seriousness in his eyes made you melt inside. 

“I promise I’ll let you know if anything is bothering me,” you reassured and he gave you a quick but warm smile, a small nod before he turned to filling up his little ink caps with black ink.

“Is it just gonna be black or do you want some colour?” he asked, taping up his tattoo gun.

“Nah black will be fine,” you got yourself comfortable as the buzz of the tattoo gun came alive. Soon enough you felt the familiar sting of the tiny needles against your skin and you shut your eyes at first. No matter how many tattoos you had, the first few strokes were always the roughest. 

“You okay?” he asked as if he could read your mind. “Yeah, yeah, just getting used to the pain again,” you told him honestly and he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to say it’s too late to change your mind now, if I stop now you’ll just end up with a dickish looking line,” he smirked to distract you from the pain and it worked, it made you laugh. 

“I’ll be fine, i’m a big girl,” you braved and his eyebrows raised slightly, “Oh yeah?” his voice laced with something more, something darker. 

“Intrigued now are we?” you teased and he gave you a cheeky grin as he kept working on your piece. The pain lessening with each stroke he did. 

“Maybe,” 

“Your brother said a curious thing when I first came in here today,” you started and he momentarily stopped and looked at you very cautiously. 

“What’d he say?” 

You smirked, “Oh just something that piqued my interest is all, how I’m apparently your sex-on-legs dream come true,” and he let out a husky laugh. In that moment you felt a rush of confidence go through you knowing that Harry was right. 

“Well, he can sleep with one eye open tonight then,” he muttered and you shook your head amused, “I’m not hearing a denial,” 

“Watch it, I’m the one with a gun,” he warned going back to your thigh starting it back up. “Yeah, apparently two,” you smirked smugly. He met your gaze for the briefest of seconds and that glance alone told you everything he didn’t say out loud. 

“The mouth on you,” he muttered as he kept going on the tattoo. You felt absolutely victorious. “What’re you gonna do about it?” 

“Have half a mind to just put you over my goddamn lap,” those words went straight to your core and you sucked in a breath and by the smirk on his face, he’d heard it. Your heart thudded in your ears at the thought of his strong hands coming down on your ass, your cunt leaking all over this thigh - right here in the tattoo chair. 

Oh god damn. 

“Oh? Did I press a button there?” now it was his turn to sound all smug and mighty when you tried to ever-so-slightly shift positions. He knew he did and you really fucking liked it, you pondered how far you could let it go. 

“So what if you did?” you played nonchalantly as though this didn’t effect you in the slightest when you both knew it very much did. 

A smirk widened on his face, “well then, we’re gonna have fun in this chair aren’t we?” and that sent heat pool in your core at the words and your previous thought that flooded your mind. 

“I guess we are,” you fired back with equal amount of heat. You didn’t think you’d ever wanted someone as badly as you did in that moment, in all of your life. The time left in the chair would be unbearable with him touching you and the ache you felt between your legs. 

That’s how it went for another hour and a half while he filled in the lines and started on doing the shading, the two of you walking along a precarious line of chatting and getting to know one another and coming up with the craziest foreplay you’d ever been apart of. 

All the while you felt a consistent heat in your core that simply never faded but you tried to move past. 

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” you hummed and he glanced at you while he filled up with some more ink. “Yeah?” 

“Do you like watching tv-series?” you began and a confused look crossed his face, “sure, who doesn’t?” 

“So here’s the real question, from all the shows you’ve watched - which show has the best first kiss?” he let out a small laugh.

“Sorry babe, but that’s not really what I focus on when I watch shows,” you pouted, “c’mon! Ask me the same question then!” you tutted to which he rolled his eyes, going back to the tattoo. You winced and he noticed and stopped immediately, “You okay?” 

“Yeah yeah, just quite sore from earlier when you went over that,” you told him honestly and he gave you a sympathetic smile, “Sorry babe, I’ll be more gentle,”. That however made you perk up, “who said I want gentle?” 

“You’re fucking incorrigible,” he groaned and you giggled, “ooh look at you and those big words,” you taunted and he just sighed, “anyway, who’s the best first kiss in a show?” 

“Nick and Jess from New Girl, don’t you fucking dare tell me otherwise - that’s right! I said what I said,” you stuck your chin out daring him to say anything else. He pondered your answer for a moment before nodding, “yeah okay, fair enough, can’t argue with that kiss - it’s a really epic first kiss,” and you smiled satisfied with his answer. 

“Good answer, I approve,” 

“What do you do for a living anyway?” he changed the subject and you smiled knowing he was doing his best to distract you from a very dull pain and you were eternally grateful for it. 

“Oh you know, I’m a pornstar,” you said off-handedly and the tattoo gun went quiet and he just stared at you, “Yo-what?” 

You smirked smugly at him, “nah I’m fucking with you, I’m a florist,” you said with a whole lot of enthusiasm in your eye and he let out a laugh, “Ah damn, what a shame I thought I’d seen you somewhere on Pornhub,” he winked and you let out a loud cackle. 

“That’s meee!” you followed along and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the banter. 

“How do you like it?” he asked after a while, “I love it, it’s all I’ve ever known - my grandmother started the business when she was a young girl and it was passed down to my mum and now I’m running the show,” you smiled proudly and he smiled in turn hearing you speak so passionately about your family business. 

“That makes a whole lot of sense that’s your job, you were made for making others happy,” 

“That’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me,” you said shyly and he gave you a tender smile. “Well you deserve to hear it,” 

                              ****

“How many do you have?” you motioned towards his tattoo on his arm, a few of them splattered here and there. “Around twelve or fifteen I think, I’ve lost count,” he sheepishly admitted. “How do you lose count?” you asked with genuine curiosity. 

“Well, it’s quite easy to forget when you get them done absolutely sloshed,” he winced and you let out a laugh.

“Which one matters the most to you?”

“Oh, easily this one, my most recent one. My dog recently died so I’ve got her little paws with me forever,” he gave you the gentlest smile and showed you the paws he had on the inside of his left arm. “I’m sorry for your loss, but it’s a beautiful way to honour her,” you gave a gentle smile in return. 

                               *****

You let out a small gasp seeing the tattoo all done in the mirror, “Oh Tom, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” you whispered in awe, unable to take your eye off of the beautiful piece, moving closer to really take in all of the tiny and beautiful details in the tattoo in all of it’s glory. 

“Thank you,” he gave you a warm smile and you knew that he took pride in your reaction and was full of pride knowing that he had made you happy with the results. 

“You’ve been the most outstanding client,” his words were genuine but ever so slightly laced with something more sinister and it made your gut clench. His eyes wandering from your thigh, moving slightly higher and you swallowed thickly. Without word you moved back to the tattoo chair, perching yourself up on it. “Have I?” he followed suit, sitting on his chair in front of you. You looked down seeing his glove-free hands and you licked your lips having fantasized about them for all this time now that you’d been there. “Mostly,” he smirked and you swung out with your leg to playfully kick him. He snorted and took your leg with ease putting it over his thigh and all of a sudden your throat went dry. 

Your eyes following his every move as he poured some lotion on his hands and rubbed it onto your new tattoo. You exhaled shakily feeling his hands on your skin. Your skin tingling from where he touched you. 

“Are we alone?” you referred to Harry as Tom inched closer to you, his hands gliding further up your thigh and you couldn’t look away from his gaze. He had you completely locked in your place as his hands barely touched your inner thigh, your heart racing in anticipation.

“Yeah, Hazza left some time ago now, it’s just us.” That’s all that was needed for the sheer unadulterated lust to take over and take charge. 

Before you knew it, your eyes met in a wild and heated kiss. The hours you’d spent riling each other up were surely paying off now as his hand wound his way to your hair, pulling on it making you whimper into his mouth. 

He bit down on your lip making you part them and he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth with ease - you fully surrendered yourself to him as you climbed over into his lap, straddling his hips. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked inside these walls,” he pulled away briefly letting those words wash over you. His voice full of lust and want and it drove you crazy. 

“So why don’t you fucking take me?”  his eyes were burning with barely contained fire and you sucked in a breath knowing you were in for quite the ride. 

“Shut up,” he growled, making the tiniest smirk form on your face. “Make me,” his eyebrow raised in challenge but you knew he wasn’t one to back down - neither were you. 

“Maybe I should just have your mouth stuffed if all I’m gonna get is back-talk,” that no doubt, had the desired effect on you. Your mouth salivated at the thought of Tom using you for his pleasure any way he wanted. “Fucking please,” your voice coming out far breathier than you intended. 

His whole demeanour changed and a down-right filthy smirk spread across his face as he took your desperate state in. Your erratic breathing, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from sheer lust and want. 

“Get on your damn knees then, princess,” you bit your lip nodding as you dropped to your knees, coming face to face with his bulge and all you wanted to do was devour him. 

“Do you need an invitation?” he hummed watching you with interest as to see what you’d do next. Your hands making quick work on getting him out of his jeans. His cock was straining through his boxers and you licked your lips, it was all you could think about. But for a brief moment all you wanted to do was savour this moment, before you took off the last piece of clothing, leaving him completely naked. It was something so thrilling this part, you’d always felt that way. You glanced up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as you removed his boxers, his breathing laboured, flushed cheeks and his eyes never leaving you, keeping you locked in place and it was unbearable in the best way possible.

His fingers wrapping in your hair, nudging you forward towards his cock, all angry and red, tip covered in pre-cum that you used as glide to work your hand up and down his length. His cock hot and pulsating in your hand as you gave him a few tugs. A low moan falling from his lips, “fuck,” he breathed, urging your mouth towards him. 

“What should I do, sir?” you taunted, your hot breath falling on his cock, so close yet so far away. “Fucking suck,” he ordered giving no room to argue and you let out a moan when you engulfed his cock, feeling the weight of it on your tongue. 

You were giving Tom the performance of your life, but oh my, it was the most rewarding blowjob you’d ever given. He was so responsive to every little thing you did. “Fuck, oh,” he moaned running a hand through his own hair - you could tell a small part of him was holding back and you didn’t want that. 

“Stop holding back,” 

“Sure?” his voice was wrecked and you looked up at him, mouth full of his cock giving him a nod. 

 “God the sight of you, such a pretty cock-slut for me aren’t you?” He pushed your head further onto his cock and you whimpered, feeling your panties getting absolutely soaked by the second. He must’ve had an innate ability to sense all of your kinks, such as dirty talk was the way straight to your cunt. “You gonna take all of me? Be a gagging mess for me?” he kept going and you whined against him. 

“Please, fucking please,” was all you managed to say before Tom took over, fucking your mouth making the most obscene noises you’d ever heard. All of them going straight to your throbbing cunt. You closed your eyes, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged quite a few times which only spurred him on. “Oh yes, the best fucking cockslut,” he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. You preened at the praise feeling like the best girl for him.

Just when you thought he’d cum, he pulled you off of him and you looked at him confused with mascara running down your face, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. “oh babe, what a sight you are,” he grunted running a finger over your swollen lips. You grabbed his hand, pushing his finger in your mouth and his eyes darkened shoving another one in and your eyes fluttered shut. 

“You’re just begging to have your holes filled aren’t you?” he tsk-ed and you whined, nodding your head, feeling drunk on lust. He removed his fingers and you opened your eyes, watching him for what was next. Instead of answering you he slated his lips over you and it went straight to your head, letting yourself get lost in the kiss and you let him guide you. 

“I just bet that cunt of yours is drenched now huh?” he hummed against your lips, the air of confidence returning to him. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” 

His large, warm hands pushed your skirt way up, letting it bunch by your waist and his fingers danced across your inner thighs making you squirm trying to get his fingers where you needed them most. 

“Don’t be impatient,” he tutted and you stilled at once, your breathing coming out laboured. “Sorry, so sorry sir,” you breathed letting out a moan feeling his lips on your neck, nibbling and biting on the sensitive skin there, causing tiny goosebumps all along your arms. 

“My oh my, what a filthy slut you are, I just bet you love letting me use you however I want huh? All this from sucking my cock?” he drawled and you shut your eyes in embarrassment when he felt your drenched panties. Hell, your juices ran down your legs - you were that turned on. “Yes sir, I’m such a slut,” your hips moving forward desperately needing his fingers inside of you. 

“You really are,” you bit your lip, batting your eyelashes at him, “what’re you gonna do about it?” 

His hands moved to your hips, gripping them tightly, “do I strike you as a person who will just..give you the answer to that?” he searched your eyes and you gulped. Your faces so close together you could practically touch his lips with yours, your breath falling onto each others. “Yes?” he tilted his head sideways and your stomach flipped. 

“No then?” he smirked, trapping you with his arms on each side of you. “No babe, we’re gonna have some fun now - so,” he hummed running his finger tips along your collar bone leaving you a shivering mess. “Why don’t you show me just how desperate you can get you filthy slut hmm? Beg for it,” he nearly growled and it had you in a puddle, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Please, please sir, please touch me,” the words just fell out of you, a desperate and almost incoherent mess by now. “Touch you where?” his fingers working on removing your top, and he drew in a breath seeing your tits, both of them pierced and hard as rocks.

“Say it,” he growled, flicking your nipple making you gasp. “My cunt sir, please touch my slutty cunt,”��

“Good girl,” he lowered his head, lips finding your neck and moving lower down to your tits taking one of the swollen buds in his mouth and you moaned, arching your back and pushing your tits in his face feeling him pull and tug on them with his teeth. His large hands cupping your free one, playing with it whilst the other continued to tug quite roughly with his teeth causing your body to jolt forward and goosebumps to run over your entire body. “Oh god,” but he was generous and switched, giving the other tit the same lavicious treatment and you were in heaven. 

Your head falling back and your legs spreading automatically and you felt him rip your panties from your body. “Fuck that’s hot,” you moaned running your fingers in his hair.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he murmured, moving to your other nipple, lavishing it with the same amount of attention. You bucked your hips trying to get him to touch you, but he wasn’t biting. 

“Fucking please! Sir!” you begged almost to the point of tears, you’d never been this sexually frustrated and it drove you mad with Tom’s teasing and torture which was so delicious. “Don’t you get fucking bratty with me or I’ll shove these in your mouth,” he warned holding up your panties and your jaw went slack. “That’s what you want isn’t it you filthy whore? You want your own cunt juice all over yourself while I fuck you senseless,” your cheeks burned in embarrassment once again. His eyes were dancing with raw desire for you now, his eyes never leaving yours as he bunched your soaked panties into a ball, shoving it in your mouth and you moaned, nodding your head that this was okay. 

“I haven’t even touched you yet and look at you,” he hummed, his finger ghosting over your folds and you nearly collapsed, you were so ready for him, for whatever he would give. 

“Fuck,” he cursed at how easily his finger slid past your folds due to your slick and you swallowed letting the pleasure roll through you, against your panties feeling his thick and long finger disappear with little resistance, exploring your walls and your eyes rolled back, letting his finger expertly move in and out of you. 

“More,” you muffled out as tears formed in your eyes, needing so much more. “What a greedy little whore you are,” he smirked adding a second finger, finding a rhythm with ease and you cried out. He was building up his pace, paying close attention to every little reaction you made. He angled his fingers up and further in and your vision turned hazy when he found the spot. The one where your toes curled and you screamed out against your panties, your orgasm rocking into you from nowhere and he fucked you through it and then some, letting you ride your high for as long as possible. 

He carefully removed your panties from your mouth once you calmed down and collected yourself ever so slightly. He licked his fingers clean and you let out a weak moan at the sight, “That’s hot,” you hummed licking your own lip and he smirked. “You good?” he pressed a kiss to your temple and you nodded. 

“Best fucking orgasm of my life,” you concluded and he laughed. 

“You think we’re done so soon?” you lifted your head glancing at him, “We’re not?” 

“Fuck no princess, we’re barely getting started. I’m gonna fuck you into oblivion and then I’m gonna have a real good taste of that cunt of yours before I’m letting you leave here,” and that was a promise. 

It made your stomach drop and fill with anticipation, “So what’s next?” you were game for anything and everything. “Get in front of the mirror and spread your legs,” 

Well, fuck. 

You did as told, walking over to the mirror on shaky legs, your heart racing in anticipation for what was in store. 

Your skin prickled, feeling Tom come up behind you, his cologne mixed with sweat surrounding your senses in the best way. His solid chest pushsing against your back, his fingers gliding along your waist and hips up and down causing goosebumps all over. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” his voice low and husky and you closed your eyes at the sensation of having Tom’s lips over your neck, sucking rough marks on the delicate skin there.

“Feels so good,” you twisted your fingers in his hair and you let out a breathy moan when his hands snaked up to your tits and he cupped them. Rolling the hardened buds between his fingers causing your back to arch and you tried to rub your legs together to ease the ache between them ever so slightly to no avail. “Is this all it takes? Pathetic, is that why you had them pierced? To be used and tugged til’ you’re a crying mess?” his eyes were sparkling with mischief. 

“Please,” you whined craning your neck to look at him, only to see his burning eyes watching you. He was just as affected as you, you could feel it now too, his cock pressing into your lower back and you moaned softly. 

“Look at me,” he ordered and you obliged, he gave you a hard kiss and you eagerly kissed back as his hand snaked to your front, toying with your cunt, running his finger along your sopping wet folds and your knees buckled. 

He pulled away from the kiss, holding your chin with his free hand and you hissed when he circled your clit, your slick making the glide of his fingers so easy. You were just about to look away when he motioned for you to open your mouth to which you did and he did the hottest fucking thing you’d ever seen. 

He spat right into your mouth and you nearly came right then and there. He must’ve sensed it too because a wicked smirk formed. “Oh you like that huh, you filthy little thing?” just to prove his point, he did it again and you swallowed thickly, your vision hazy from lust. 

He pulled away for a moment and he rummaged through his clothes, returning with a hand on his cock, stroking it and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his condom-clad cock, wathcing the way his wrist flicked at the tip.

“Such a pretty cock,” you bit your lip, watching as he walked up to you, his hand finding your front once more, easily slipping a finger inside and fucking you open simultaneously as he pushed you against the mirror, making sure that the two of you had the perfect view to watch what was going to happen next.

“Best put on the show of a life time huh slut?” he growled in your ear, slapping your clit and you cried out. The pain hurting so good and Tom lifted your leg up, making the slide into you easier and you both let out a ragged breath at the sensation of your walls clamping down around him. “Fuck, fuck oh Tom,” you gasped as he bottomed out and you had to take a few breaths to steady yourself. 

“The tightest cunt I’ve ever felt,” he grunted, nails digging into your hips that you were sure was going to leave a mark. You couldn’t form words any longer once Tom started fucking into you, his hips doing the lord’s work and all you could do was hang on and enjoy the ride. Which you very much did. 

You loved the way his cock felt inside of you, the way he was rolling his hips finding new bursts of pleasure inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. You screamed out when he angled his hips up, finding your g-spot and he started rutting into it over and over until you were a quivering mess, barely able to stand up. 

“Fuck that feels so good, sir,” Your breath coming out in short pants, tiny fireworks going off behind your eyelids as Tom figured out your body and what made you tick. 

He tsk-ed you, a free hand finding your clit, rubbing it in circles. “Come on, cum for me, let me feel you cum all over my cock. Show me what a good little whore you can be,” he growled and with those words, something inside of you snapped like a coil. 

A dam coming undone as your orgasm wrecked throughout you, screaming his name over and over as he fucked into you giving you what you so desperately wanted. 

“Such a fucking sight you are,” he moaned, his hips jerking as he came into the condom, his hips working their way inside of you. You watched in the mirror his facial expression as he came, eyes glassed over, cheeks flushed and jaw slacked. “Nothing like you,” you hummed, clenching your muscles and he groaned loudly putting his sweaty forehead against your neck. “Fucking shit,” he cursed finally calming down and you whimpered when you felt him slip out of you, already missing the feeling of him inside of you. 

“Wow,” he panted, slipping away from you, removing the condom and tossing it in the bin. You smiled lazily, sliding down against the mirror sitting on the floor completely spent, drinking in the sight of him. 

He really was the sexiest guy you’d ever laid eyes on. Muscles in all the right places and the juiciest ass that you simply wanted to sink your teeth into, if given the opportunity - god did you hope you’d get the opportunity to do this again. 

“Wow indeed,” he looked over at you, giving you a small chuckle when he saw you on the floor. “Y’alright?” he came over with some paper towels, giving you a bashful smile as though to say ‘sorry it’s the best i’ve got’. You took it nonetheless, carefully wiping yourself clean the best you could. “That was ..absolutely mindblowing,” you confessed honestly,  and his eyes lit up, a wide smile taking shape across his pretty face that left you molten at the sight. “It was pretty fucking sensational,” he agreed easily.

A moment passed between the two of you, your head resting on his shoulder as a comfortable silence washed over you, “so, what now?” you hummed feeling how your body finally relaxed after all it had been through, both the tattooing and getting the railing of a lifetime all in the same afternoon. He chuckled softly, “I don’t know about you but this has made me famished, so, wanna grab some dinner?” his voice turned surprisingly soft and unsure which made you grin, “aren’t you a smooth one then? All shy and bashful,” you teased and he let out a laugh, rolling his eyes, “well?”

“Yeah, let’s go for some dinner,” you agreed and he got up a hell of a lot more smoothly than you, Tom having to help you up and your legs were so shaky still. “Fuck,” you cursed walking on wobbly legs - of course Tom noticed it and he smirked proudly. 

“Shut up,” you muttered and he let out a laugh, “You can’t honestly think that this won’t give me such an ego boost, you can hardly walk and that’s all me,” he wiggled his eyebrows which infuriated you, “and here I was going to say we should definitely do this again sometime, buuuut,” you trailed off and he scoffed, pulling his shirt over his head. “Oh princess, you know we’re ending up in bed together again, no doubt,” he radiated confidence as he was checked you, not so subtly, out and it made your cheeks burn as you got dressed. 

“First, you buy me beer and dinner,” he let out a groan, walking behind you and you felt his eyes on your ass, “god, marry me already,” he begged and you couldn’t help but to be helplessly enamoured by him. 

“If that’s your way of proposing, you suck,” you shrugged and he clutched at his heart, “come on now, Romeo,” with that, you waited outside for Tom to close up the parlour.

“Thanks for waiting around,” he smiled, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together and you felt the same jolt of electricity as before when he touched you. 

“Anytime, something tells me you’re worth waiting around for,” you laced your fingers together as the two of you walked down the street and into a pub. 

if there's people still around to read ill tag a few of you

@duskholland @tetralea @thirsttrapholland @thefallenbibliophilequote @xoluvx @greenorangevioletgrass