#toms record club

[animesickos]

I forgot to post here for like three months. Uhh. I made a newsletter that is an album-of-the-week club so I can write about music. If you want to read a white boy non-musician yammer for ages about music for freaks, uhh, maybe check it out. I will try to remember to post new episodes here too.

[lisamarie-vee]

[scarygoblins]

my talking heads + solo favs playlist

A playlist of my favorite songs from the Talking Heads discography and the songs from the their individual solo careers :)

[paintingsandrecords]

the human fish; ink and watercolor

last twelve day’s listening:

teens in trouble - what’s mine

taylor swift - the tortured poets department

tom waits - big time

defiance ohio - share what ya got

your heart breaks –new ocean waves

the tune-yards - i’m a virgo

amerigo gazaway - yasiin gaye: the return (side two)

joan baez - in concert

jon snodgrass and buddies - tace

vacancy - vacancy

woody guthrie - dust bowl ballads

culture club - colour by numbers

worriers - trust your gut

[ozkar-krapo]

V/A

"Musicworks #37 : Mechanical Disturbances, especially in Air"

(cassette. Musicworks. 1986)

[trevlad-sounds]

Invisible Waves 49.

08.12.2024

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

On Set Shenanigans || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

GIFS by me :) cred if use!!

Summary: just a bunch of random scenarios on set I thought of while I was in the shower lmao 🤣

Warnings: noneee

Wc: 1,553

A/n: sorta all over the place sorry lmao

Divider by @pommecita

“If you could describe Y/n and Tom in one word, what would you say?” Rachel purses her lips, side eyeing the two of you who were watching her with silly grins. “Y/n and Tom are,” Rachel hums, tapping her chin as she breaks out into a chuckle.

“Goofy.” You and Tom turn to each other and just break into laughter. “They are seriously the most goofiest people I have met in my entire life! There is never a dull moment on set when these two around,” Rachel shakes her head as she smiles at the two of you who blow kisses her way.

“Tom and Y/n, there’s a behind the scenes video circulating around of the two of you in costume, dancing to Low by Flo Rida,” “Oh my god,” You drop your head on Tom’s shoulder as the two of you couldn’t help wipe the grin off your faces.

“Yes, there is,” Tom laughs as they put up said video. “If you guys haven’t see it, here it is,” Dressed in his peacekeeper outfit, white singlet with his dog tag out, and you in your outfit, you and Tom were dancing along to your favourite song to dance to, Low by Flo Rida.

Rachel was recording the video during your break and was dying of laughter. The camera was shaking the entire time because of it. You and Tom loved goofing around and dancing.

You could say it was your love language. You grab Tom’s peacekeeper hat and plop out on your head slightly wonky as you move along to the song, acting as if you were at a club in Berlin and not on set. The way you and Tom danced and moved to the music just made so much sense.

“She turned around and gave that big booty a smack,” Tom spun around as you slap his ass causing an eruption of laughter from everyone who was watching.

You and Tom were trying to hold your composure but that failed miserably as you grab Tom’s arms to stabilise yourself but turned out he had no sense of stability at that moment as the two of you fall to the ground. A light scream leaving your lips as you fall on top of Tom.

And then the camera focused on the ground as Rachel had leaned over, hands on thighs as she laughed out loud. If anyone didn’t know the context of that clip, they probably would have thought that you two were drunk but truth was you were quite sober.

The crowd on set burst out into laughter as you cover your face in slight embarrassment, Tom laughing along with the host as he pats your head.

~

“What do you usually do when you’re not filming on set?” Tom gives you a look as you bite back a laugh. “I think everyone knows this but, film tiktoks” The crowd breaks into laughter as they knew what you were talking about.

“Yeah Y/n is always filming tiktok and forcing me to do them with her,” Tom grips your thigh, shaking it lightly as you roll your eyes. “No I do not, you always want to be in them!” You argue with him. “Why don’t we watch a few of them here?” Kelly Clarkson recommended as you squeeze Tom’s arm with a smile.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CQrdGn8AYiD/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA== The first tiktok was of you, Tom, Rachel, and Josh in your trailer. You had the idea in your head for a while now and showed them all. “Please don’t drop me babe,” You say to Tom as you set up the camera, “I would never,” You hear him say followed by giggle.

You expected to land in Tom’s arms. Not the floor. You let out a yelp as Tom slaps his hand over his mouth. The three of them laughing their asses off while you landed on yours with a loud thud. “It’s not funny you idiot,” You slap his arm as he picks you up, apologising to you by peppering your face with kisses.

You had to admit it was pretty funny rewatching the tiktok. “You weren’t supposed to catch my feet!” You say in between laughs as you post the tiktok.

~

“This one, captioned name a better duo, I’ll wait has gone quite viral with over 10 million views,” Kelly exclaims as you cross your legs at your knees nodding your head as the video plays on the screen. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNVsM6kw/

“Tom,” You tap your boyfriend’s shoulder as he hums. You had just finished filming a scene together and had abit of time before you were up again. You were both in your mentor outfits, Tom having his blonde locks today.

“I wanna film this tiktok, come be in it?” You urge him as he looks up from his phone seeing a glint of playfulness in your eyes as he lets out a sigh.

Tom secretly loved making tiktoks with you, especially since he wasn’t on it and found the stuff you make him do were interesting and funny. You had hundreds of random tiktoks that you filmed on set saved into your drafts, half of them were of you and Tom.

Your hair stylist helped film the tiktok as the two of you did it out in the open, a bunch of the filming team watching with curiosity and laughing as they walk by. Other cast members such as Josh, Hunter and a bunch of the mentor actors walked by ended up being in the background of it.

You and Tom moved along to the beat, literally just vibing to the music. You wrote on the tiktok “the funniest duo on set>>>” and you weren’t lying.

~

“We are here with the cast of the Hunger Games Prequel, the ballad of songbirds and snakes!” The crowd cheered as you, Tom, Josh, and Rachel smiles. “From what I’ve seen, you guys are actually TikTok sensations!” An eruption of laughter followed.

“This TikTok here specifically,” https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNqguTEY/ you all turn your head to watch the TikTok play on screen as you all start to laugh. “Tom, where were you while this was happening,” The host looks at Tom whose eyes were trained on the ground, a grin forming on his lips.

“I’m actually there in the tiktok, on the bed. Trying to sleep.” He deadpans as you giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder as you grip his arm. “Yeah this was after we came back from partying in Berlin, obviously for some of us, our night didn’t end yet,” Tom chuckles as everyone bursts out in laughter.

“Let’s do that tiktok!” You squeal the second you enter the room. Opening up tiktok, you find the video and show Josh, Hunter, Rachel, and Tom it. Tom’s arms were thrown around your shoulders, his head resting on your head due to the height difference.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” He yawns, kissing your cheek before you all bid him goodnight. Tom couldn’t even get 5 minutes of peacefulness as the four of you spill into the bedroom and set up your phone. He lets out a quiet groan at the noise and flashing of lights as he digs his head deep into his pillow.

~

“Babeee,” You call out as you step into the hair and makeup trailer. He was sitting on a chair, fully dressed in his peacekeeper outfit, hair free from his wig.

He looked more presentable compared to you and Rachel who still had hair rollers on and were still in your robes. You had seen a new trend going around tiktok where you would stare at a guy with Justin Timberlake’s mirrors playing in the background, and you wanted to do it with Tom https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNqnRSNJ/

One side of his lips turns up as he looks up at you, “I’m filming a tiktok and I want you to be in it,” You say with puppy eyes although you know he wouldn’t refuse. You even got his hair and makeup artists, Stacey and Jade to be in on it too.

You pull up a chair beside Tom as you set up the camera. “Wait what am I supposed to do?” He asks, “Nothing, just sit there,” You innocently smile at him as he gives you a suspicious look but nods nonetheless, complying with whatever you were up to.

He honestly just expected to be on camera while you were doing something, but he did not expect to be stared down at by his girlfriend and hair and makeup artists. You stare intensely at Tom, trying your hardest to not laugh or look away.

Staring at your boyfriend has always not been an easy task, especially since he holds such intense eye contact. And his pretty blue eyes did not help at all. Tom tries not to laugh either as he gazes at you before his eyes flicker towards Stacey and Jade then back to you. “What’s going on,” He finally says as his body shakes from laughing.

The TikTok ends and you let out a small laugh, looking over the TikTok. You throw your head back in laughter at Tom’s face when you all look back to stare at him, honestly was priceless.

[princessbrunette]

playlists for the readers … ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

bunny!reader ♡

just girly fun vibes — she likes her music catchy, pop-y and fairly relatable. rafe never lets her play her music in the car unfortunately, because he cannot be seen speeding down the road blasting the pussy cat dolls.

🎀 cassie — ditto

🎀 kali uchis, steve lacy, vince staples — only girl

🎀 frank ocean — sweet life

🎀 coco & clair — pretty

🎀 sabrina carpenter — feather

🎀 flo milli — never lose me

🎀 cassie — miss your touch

🎀 childish gambino, jhené aiko — pink toes

🎀 flo.rida, wynter — sugar

🎀 kali uchis — honey baby (SPOILED!)

🎀 angels — my boyfriends back

🎀 foxy brown, kelis — candy

🎀 lana del rey — music to watch boys to

🎀 jhené aiko — maniac

🎀 fergie — clumsy

🎀 ciara, 50 cent — can’t leave ‘em alone

🎀 shelley duvall — he needs me

🎀 nancy sinatra — sugar town

🎀 heidi montag — i’ll do it

🎀 nicki minaj, jeremiah — favourite

🎀 kali uchis — melting

🎀 lady gaga — boys boys boys

🎀 cassie — long way 2 go

🎀 the pussycat dolls — when i grow up

🎀 tom tom club — genius of love

🎀 beyoncé — freakum dress

🎀 gwen stefani — bubble pop electric

🎀 marina — primadonna girl

🎀 madonna — material girl

🎀 pussy cat dolls — stickwitu

🎀 leven kali, syd — do u wrong

🎀 kiana ledé — mad at me

kitty!reader ♡

listens to her music to feel cool n edgy. shes one of those people that think she’s a bitch but she’s not at all, just a lil grumpy. wants everyone to know she liked deftones before it was cool.

🐈‍⬛ pixies — is she weird

🐈‍⬛ arctic monkeys — mardy bum

🐈‍⬛ black box recorder — child psychology

🐈‍⬛ the smiths — pretty girls make graves

🐈‍⬛ ethel cain — crush

🐈‍⬛ mazzy star — she’s my baby

🐈‍⬛ radiohead — creep

🐈‍⬛ chris isaak — wicked game

🐈‍⬛ limp bizkit — rollin’

🐈‍⬛ the pretty reckless — makes me wanna die

🐈‍⬛ pearly drops — bloom for me

🐈‍⬛ deftones — root

🐈‍⬛ fka twigs — two weeks

🐈‍⬛ deftones — romantic dreams

🐈‍⬛ hole — doll parts

🐈‍⬛ margeaux — hot faced

🐈‍⬛ siouxsie and the banshees — she’s a carnival

🐈‍⬛ kip tyler — she’s my witch

🐈‍⬛ deftones — mascara

🐈‍⬛ soho dolls — bang bang bang bang

🐈‍⬛ enigma — sadeness

🐈‍⬛ DANGERDOOM, MF DOOM — perfect hair

🐈‍⬛ radiohead — idioteque

🐈‍⬛ björk — come to me

🐈‍⬛ the nbhd — fallen star

🐈‍⬛ arctic monkeys — crying lightening

🐈‍⬛ deftones — diamond eyes

🐈‍⬛ the smiths — girl afraid

🐈‍⬛ ethel cain — unpunishable

🐈‍⬛ mitski — townie

🐈‍⬛ gorillaz — kids with guns

🐈‍⬛ evanescence — taking over me

deer!reader ♡

she’d say her playlists are all over the place — but it’s organised mess. she has them perfectly collated and in her head they make perfect sense. don’t put her on the aux though, not because the songs aren’t good but because the vibes are all over the place.

🍪 shura — 2shy

🍪 minnie riperton — les fleurs

🍪 april march — chick habit

🍪 benee — kool

🍪 camille saint- saëns — … le cygne

🍪 the little dippers — forever

🍪 allie x, mitski — susie save your love

🍪 she & him — why do you let me stay here?

🍪 lesley gore — i’m coolin’ no foolin’

🍪 sza — prom

🍪 the penguins — earth angel

🍪 SALES — renee

🍪 cleo sol — sunshine

🍪 japanese breakfast — be sweet

🍪 kate bush — cloud busting

🍪 mazzy star — halah

🍪 the mamas & papas — dedicated to the one i love

🍪 scissors sisters — filthy / gorgeous

🍪 fiona apples — shameika

🍪 fleetwood mac — mystified

🍪 margo guryan — under my umbrella

🍪 erykah badu — apple tree

🍪 mort garson — plantasia

🍪 sza — sweet november

🍪 quadron — sea salt

🍪 corinne bailey rae — green aphrodisiac

🍪 sade — lovers rock

🍪 ella fitzgerald — moonlight serenade

🍪 cigarettes after sex — truly

🍪 tv girl — heaven is a bedroom

🍪 the velvet underground — femme fetale

🍪 clairo, coco & clair — racecar

🍪 james blake, rosalía — barefoot in the park

🍪 tame impala — nangs

puppy!reader ♡

never seen without her walkman — loves running around and dancing to her upbeat music. her playlists will remind you of days in the sun and dancing in summer rain.

🐶 her’s — love on the line (call now)

🐶 HAIM — summer girl

🐶 the la’s — there she goes

🐶 stacey q — two of hearts

🐶 faye webster — right side of my neck

🐶 bakar, summer walker — hell n back

🐶 beabadoobee — sunny day

🐶 dominic fike — babydoll

🐶 jungle — back on 74

🐶 pinkpanthress — attracted to you

🐶 duran duran — girls on film

🐶 shuggie otis — strawberry letter 23

🐶 sixpence none the richer — kiss me

🐶 matilda mann — bloom

🐶 HAIM — falling

🐶 311 — amber

🐶 earth, wind & fire — boogie wonderland

🐶 lorde — ribs

🐶 lesley gore — sunshine lollipops and rainbows

🐶 stevie wonder — all i do

🐶 the human league — don’t you want me

🐶 the turtles — happy together

🐶 pet shop boys — west end girls

🐶 clairo — bags

🐶 pat benetar — love is a battlefield

🐶 the psychedelic furs — love my way

🐶 scouting for girls — she’s so lovely

🐶 noisettes — wild young hearts

🐶 the all eyes i — beat goes on

🐶 tame impala — elephant

🐶 sublime — waiting for my ruca

🐶 mgmt — boogie down

[braxlrose]

being in a love triangle with bill and tom

bill x f!reader x tom

a/n: i know bill and tom have said before that they don't let a girl come between them and if they like the same girl they let the girl choose who she wants, but let's pretend there's a little more to it.

• their love languages are very different when it comes to trying to "woo" you.

• you met tom and bill at different places. you met tom at a club and bill at a record store. you hadn't even realized they were twins since it was pretty dark in the club and tom and bill have different voices so you had no idea until they both talked about you and realized they met the same girl 💀

• tom is much more dominant than bill and way more out-there with his feelings for you. tom doesn't like to be submissive in relationships and bill himself has even said that tom is more aggressive in relationships (not like abusive though 💀)

• bill isn't exactly the opposite but he's a lot less dominant than tom. he really likes it when women take the lead or are even challenging rather than easy. i feel like bill would really like girls like kat stratford.

• when you first met tom, you were dancing in a club with a drink in your hand when he came up behind you and slipped his hands around your waist. you looked back at him with a smile on your face, obviously drunk.

• you turned your head back around and continued to dance with him.

• "im not sleeping with you before a date, i hope you know that!" you said to him, laughing your ass off and he just nodded his head.

• "really?!" he yelled, "you look the type!" he said, slurring his words and laughing at your offended face.

• "hey!" you slapped his arm, still dancing, "was that your bad attempt at telling me a look like a prositute?" you laughed again, leaning back on his shoulder.

• "maybe." he giggled, staring into your eyes.

• a little while after that he figured you were pretty drunk and he should take you home.

• he asked you where you lived and you told him you were staying at a hotel. you guys couldn't get an Uber so you ended up just walking back with him.

• you starting rambling about dumb, drunk shit like your future and things you wanna do before you die, and tom was totally infatuated with you. he had met other girls before, but you just seemed so much cooler.

• you guys ended up sitting on some old swings at a playground and just talking about life for hours until he finally brought you back to your hotel room

• when you had first met bill, you were at a record store looking through the records and cds. you already had a stack of cds on the counter when bill came up to you.

• "I like nena too!" he said with a smile, coming up behind you.

• "hmm?" you whipped your head around to see him, your eyes widening at his height and not even registering what he said at first.

• "oh, nena!" you turned you head to the stack of cds, one of nenas cds was on top. "yeah, I love her. her music is totally inspirational."

• bill just smiled at you and pointed to you cds "may i?" you nodded your head as he picked up the cds and looked through them. you continued to look through records and talked about all kinds of music.

• he grabbed your hand and brought you over to the otherside of the store. he grabbed a tokio hotel cd and put it in the cd player and put headphones over your ears. "ya' like?" he asked as your wrinkled your eyebrows.

• "huh?!" you said loudly, causing him to laugh and take off the headphones.

• "i said, do you like it?" he said giggling, as you nodded. he continued to tell you it was his band and you guys listened to a bunch of other music.

• "im bill, by the way." he said to you, as you guys walked out of the store and began to walk back to your hotel.

• "y/n."

• he gave you his number once you were back at your hotel and you jumped on the bed, smiling to yourself.

• once bill and tom got home they started talking about you a lot, and soon realized they were talking about the same girl. this wasn't really a surprise to them since they have crushed on the same girl in the past.

• "well. i think i should date her because I met her first, okay?" said tom and bill just sat there like.

• "yeah, yeah we could do that...orrrr i date her. because it's pretty obvious she's more into me."

• now this didn't start a fight between them, but they decided they would do a bunch of stuff and see which one you liked better.

• you weren't an awful person though. you made sure to tell both of them that you were sort of seeing another guy and they were like "oh, it's no problem!"

• tom brought you out to a super fancy restaurant, because he was all like "girls like that stuff." and I mean it was a super fancy restaurant and he told you to order whatever you wanted because he'd be paying for it. but right after you two had finished eating he brought you home and you two ended up making out for a little while.

• he was super proud of himself, and was like 99% sure that he had won you over. that was until he found out bill took you ice skating and said that you two had tons of fun.

• bill had remembered you had mentioned that you had never gone ice skating before so that's why he took you. he held your hands the entire time and you were practically gripping onto his body so you didn't fall over. you were super fucking scared.

• but you ended up getting the hang of it and having so much fun with him. bill didn't kiss you though, and when you asked him why, he said he wanted to take things slow with you because he really liked you. that honestly would've been enough to win me over #lowstandards

• after that, tom brought you to this place where you could taste different kinds of hot chocolate from different countries. you loved chocolate so you had the best time with him.

• but then bill took you to a petting zoo. usually those are for kids but you literally had so much fun petting all of the different kinds of animals.

• tom took you out to a party and you guys danced a lot, and ended up having sex in one of the empty rooms.

• at your next date with bill, you told him you had sex with the other guy. you were really confused on why he didn't care, but you didnt question it. bill had taken you dancing that night and that was the night you two finally kissed. it was warm and magical.

• on the next date with Tom, he brought you to a carnival and he won a giant panda for you. and he bought you whatever you wanted. you two had tons of cotton candy and ended up kissing at the top of the ferris wheel 🥺. you didn't really think of Tom as that kind of guy, but the more you got to know him, the sweeter he got.

• you were at a point, where you weren't sure who to choose, you liked them both so much and you didn't want to hurt either one of them.

if you chose tom:

• if you chose tom, he was so fucking happy. he picked you up and spun you around. he liked you so much and you liked him so much and he was really happy you chose him. obviously, he made sure that didn't get in between him and bill.

• he continued to take you out to restaurants and kiss you backstage at concerts. he would invite you over to his hotel room to have sex, but you would also hang out afterwards. he'd wrap his arms around you and smother you in kisses.

• he cooked with you all the time and loved that you would teach him how to cook new things.

• he would play guitar for you and bring you to parties to show you off.

• but you guys dated for only a couple months before going your separate ways.

if you chose bill:

• if you chose bill, he kissed you so passionately, it made your head spin. you wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him in as close at you two could possibly be. that was the first time you two had sex. it was beautiful, and sexy and intimate and he couldn't stop saying how happy he was that you chose him.

• for dates, he would bring you to all sorts of places. but his favorite was this old little café and he would order a bunch of pastries for you, even if you couldn't eat all of them.

• bill would make picnics for you at night, and you guys would fall asleep looking at the stars.

• he would sing to you all the time and sing you to sleep whenever you couldnt fall asleep. and show you new songs he wrote.

• giving eachother massages all the time

• he loves it when you come back stage before a concert to wish him good luck

• bill dates to marry. so you too either broke up after 2 years of dating, or got married.

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles @saumspam @5hyslv7 @killed-kiss @memog1rl @80s-tingz @billybabeskaulitz

[vodkababy]

video recordings 🍨🎭 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

tom kaulitz x fem! reader

fluff? i seriously do not KNOW what kind this is tbh

age pairing : 15-16

warnings : none

i could never express any kind of feelings towards people. it just didn't seem like someone who i was.

she grabbed her camcorder from her 11th birthday, placed it down the table by her bed and fixed her hair. she always recorded herself during every one of her birthdays, this is the 5th time she's done it.

“my name is _______, it’s 2005 now, so i’m currently 16. uh-“ she rambled. hearing the door creak open.

“hello?” a voice called. it was tom, one of her best friends.

best friends who have unsaid feelings about each other.

“oh, it’s you.” she looked up at him and smiled.

when you two met, tom was in a band, tokio hotel. you were quite surprised to be friends with a rocker.

being friends with someone like tom was like a job. he was spontaneous, he was the right amount of sugar and spice. he wasn’t always nice. sure, he was like one of those slacking teenagers who were always on the couch, but he was a serious person.

he was never the one to be sarcastic to you - but to be genuine with you. it was shocking to you, as he was a playboy after all. he grew up on an addiction to porn, magazines of naked women and the thought of sex made him smile mischievously.

she was a reserved girl. a quiet girl, a soft spoken girl, who dressed up like it was always winter. she never usually showed a lot of skin, as they would call her; “a girl with decency”. secretly, she would go to clubs without the permission of her mother - dressed in all sorts of tiny clothes, ones that her parents would probably never think of her to have.

tom would never call her a “hoe”. to him, she was like an angel. she was precious, like a doll. she was that one piece of innocence in his life.

“are you recording?” tom asked. walking to her bed, and plopping down next to the girl.

“what do you think?” she says, rolling her eyes playfully.

he scooted closer to her, their arms touching. positioning the camera over on their faces.

“i never would have thought of you to be a vlogger.” he chuckles. looking into her eyes once deeply. “you’re pretty. you’re like an angel.”

he takes her features in. her cat-like eyes, her long lashes, her slightly flushed pink cheeks and her lips. he stares at her lips for a second - immediately flashing his eyes back into her eyes again.

her gaze on him softens, her face going pink. all of a sudden, in his eyes, she looks like an angel. the yellowish light from her old lamp reflecting onto her face. the slight glitter on her eye lids shining, her lips glossy.

“you know that, right?”

“know what?”

“that you’re beautiful.” he says, tucking a piece of hair into her ear. they both don’t say anything. without warning they both close the gap in between them. his hands on her hips, digging into her skin. her arms on his neck.

they go on about this for about 15 minutes, his lips starting to trail down from her lips to her jaw.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ time flies by to 2006.

y/n was sat on her beside diana, one of her friends who came over to hang out. diana couldn’t help but be curious about the camcorder that was placed on the shelves of her bedroom.

“what’s this?” diana said, picking it up.

“it’s my camcorder. you can check if you want.” y/n answers nonchalantly.

diana checks the videos on y/n’s camcorder, one video particularly catching her eye. it was tom and y/n’s video, making out. y/n hears the video playing, and immediately couldn’t wrap the sounds that were familiar on her finger.

“what video’s playing?”

“you and some boy making out.”

shit.

[mydaddywiki]

Jimmy Johnson

Physique: Average Build Height: 5′ 8″

James William Johnson (born July 16, 1943) is an American sports analyst and former football coach. Johnson served as a head football coach on the collegiate level from 1979 to 1988 and in the NFL for nine seasons. He is the first head football coach to win both a college football national championship and a Super Bowl, achieving the former with University of Miami and the latter with the Dallas Cowboys. Since his coaching retirement, Johnson has appeared as an analyst for Fox Sports and is one of the featured commentators of Fox NFL Sunday. He was inducted to the College Football Hall of Fame in 2012 and the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2020.

Handsome silverdaddy with a decent body and what I like to call 'perfect hair forever.' Would just love to run my fingers though that hair of his. Kinda disappointed about the ExtenZe deal, but he has other qualities I can abuse.

Johnson attended high school at Thomas Jefferson High School, now Memorial High School, in Port Arthur, Texas. Johnson played college football as a defensive lineman at the University of Arkansas between 1962 and 1964. During his time in Arkansas, he played with future Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones.

Johnson held his first head football coaching position at Oklahoma State University from 1979 to 1983. He became Miami's head football coach in 1984 and guided the team to a college championship, before succeeding original Cowboys head coach Tom Landry in 1989. He served five seasons with the Cowboys and guided the team to two Super Bowl championships. Johnson also coached the Miami Dolphins for four seasons and led the club to the playoffs in all but his first year on the job. In all, Johnson’s record as an NFL head coach was 80-64-0 in the regular season and 9-4 in the playoffs for an overall mark of 89-68-0.

Twice married, first to Linda Kay Cooper on July 12, 1963, with whom he had two sons, divorced in January 1990. On July 18, 1999, Johnson married Rhonda Rookmaaker. I swear… why do I even bother. There isn't much else I can say about him. He's good looking and I'd love to fuck him like crazy. Like a lot of other people no doubt.

Career Highlights and Awards As Head Coach: 2× Super Bowl champion (XXVII, XXVIII) AP NFL Coach of the Year (1990) Dallas Cowboys Ring of Honor National champion (1987) Walter Camp Coach of the Year (1986) Big Eight Coach of the Year (1979) As Player: National champion (1964) 2× SWC champion (1961, 1964) First-team All-SWC (1964)

Career Coaching Statistics NFL win–loss record: 80–64 Postseason record: 9–4 NCAA win–loss record: 81–34–3

[youandtom2]

Request if you want it: Tom is playing at a golf event and reader is a journalist there. She absolutely can't stand him, because she finds out he is quite arrogant and full of himself. They go after each other throughout the whole day with sarcastic remarks. But somehow (you can fill in the details) Tom seduces her by the end and he gets her on her knees and he totally dominates her, making her choke and gag. And he embarrasses her by making her feel his muscles and beg to suck him off and he boasts about how easily he got her in the palm of his hand. :P

(14/07/22) brain go brrrrrrrrrrr THIS REQUEST!!!!

a/n (28/06/23): This was a request that was sent in and one that I had started last year that I really wanted to finish. Apologies to the anon who sent this in and waited for it whoops. This was supposed to be short but I clearly don't fucking know what short means so here's like 7k or something???

Anyway here's 'A Word for the Youth Diary?' Shitty title I know but I literally can't think of anything else.

MASTERLIST

"The weather is absolutely gorgeous here at St. Andrews' Castle Course, celebrating the first 'Pro Amateur' charity competition where a host of celebrities, socialites or anyone with a keen passion for golf can compete. A number of spectators have gathered around the course, eager to soak up the buzzing atmosphere, the scenic landscape and the presence of Hollywood stars, all in the views of the warm Scottish sun. Now that's something I never expected to say!"

The red light of your recorder dims as you press pause on your commentary. You made the switch to recorder a few years back when journalism became too close to drowning in a number of scribbled, illegible notes written far too quickly. Now it is a simple case of pressing record and pressing pause.

Of course, wherever there is a flock of celebrities congregating in the one area for the week, there will always be flock of paparazzi and journalists close by, each with the same agenda. It usually feels like mission impossible to get a word in with a celebrity or document anything of note or interest when there's a wall of other journalists blocking your way, but today those things won't be a problem. Because you’re not going after who may probably be the most coveted celebrity here. Tom Holland.

You don't quite don't know where it stemmed from; your strong dislike towards Tom Holland. In all honesty, your hatred towards him is very self-inflicted, but there's something about his ego that paints him in a very arrogant light. He knows he's hot shit with the press, he knows everyone fancies the man, he knows that his many talents has sky-rocketed him up the societal ladder and onto the throne of the rich and wealthy. What makes him double as frustrating than he is arrogant is that he hasn't done anything wrong. He's Hollywood's golden boy; ever the humble, handsome, kind, charity-giving actor that has claimed the hearts of many across the world. It's what makes your hatred towards him completely unjustified, so while no one shares the same view as you, there is some things you can do to quietly preach your opinions.

"First to arrive at the course is the notable Tom Holland, waving to the crowd with a smile, loving the attention as ever. Although I'm not sure that his mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire will receive the same compliments!"

The smirk on your lips lasts for the majority of the day as you talk incessantly into your recorder. Your goal isn't necessarily to shit on Tom, only when the opportunity presents itself of course, like when he swung the golf club at an awkward angle, sending the ball straight over the forest and into the sand bunker.

"Oooh, what a poor shot from Tom Holland. He'll be disappointed with that one. Perhaps leaning towards the 'amateur' side of the competition in comparison to some other competitors. Tom Holland yet again teaching us a valuable lesson in life; just because you're a pro at one thing doesn't mean you're a pro at everything else."

The crowd politely applauded and off he went with his caddie. While others followed, you choose to stay rooted while you wait for Mark Wahlberg to walk up to the tee. He's who you've been waiting for all afternoon. Getting a word in with him would set you up for the highlight of your career.

"Mark! Over here! Mr. Wahlberg! A word for the Youth Diary? Mr. Wahlberg!"

As it seems, Mark calmly maneuvers way past the wall of journalists, paying them, and you, no mind and strolls over to the starting point. Damn. You have to get a word with him somehow.

"Mark Wahlberg takes a mighty swing and thrashes the golf ball high into the air, and the crowd watches in astonishment as it sails its way over towards the green, a hair's breadth away from perfection as it rolls upon the hill. A round of applause circles around Mark as he proudly walks on with the confidence of a man who's set on winning this competition."

As the hours tick by, you find yourself without any luck. Those first few minutes of the competition were stuck in a loop, constantly experiencing deja vu of having to witness Tom Holland's unlucky shot followed by being ignored by Mark Wahlberg. You haven't had one decent interaction with anyone yet. Things are getting a little desperate.

You even begin to understand why the majority of journalists are following Tom Holland like a lost flock of sheep; he's very chatty. He stops at every turn to give his narration on his own playing, offers a brief insight to the projects he is currently working on, and if he likes you, even spill some of the secrets of his private life. It's a journalist's dream, one that you haven't even had the taste of yet since Mark Wahlberg is as accessible as the vaults of the Bank of England. Anyone with common sense would advise you to follow the crowd and ignore your bias towards him and just interview Tom Holland if it means you have something worth printing.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. Not a chance. He gets enough attention as it is.

"Mr Wahlberg! A word on your new film? Could you tell us about Uncharted! Mark! Over here!"

Not even a glance is spared your way in yet another attempt to get his attention. From your left, a voice emerges. A fellow reporter sidles himself next to you, away from the crowd that follows Tom Holland. You spot the Sky Sports label wrapped around his microphone.

"He doesn't like to speak much to the press. Thinks that he'll say something and they'll twist his words," he sympathies. It's genuine, obvious that he too has been caught up in the same frustration you've been facing all afternoon. At least he has a little more insight as to why you haven't gotten a word from Mark.

"Yeah, I figured. It wouldn't hurt just to say hello and have a small chat. What could the press twist about that? If anything, I think he's damaging his reputation by not saying anything. It's rude, y'know?"

He nods his head in agreement, but the sigh he blows doesn't seem to match. "You have to let it go though. They're not obliged to tell us anything. This is just a day out for them, they're not getting paid so why should they have to say anything about their work? It's just our luck whether they choose to talk to us."

"Ugh, I guess you're right, but I still need something for my article."

"Sky Sports has had lots from Tom. Why don't you try your luck with him? He seems to be a lot chattier than Mark. I don't know much about film journalism, only sports, so I don't know what it is you're looking for. But if you ask him anything, I'm sure he's willing to provide."

You look to him with contempt in your eyes, your lack of smile instantly shuts down his suggestion.

"I appreciate the suggestion but no. He's too easy. Think of how many journalists are here desperate to get a word in about sports, golf, acting, celebrity personal lives, all that show biz. If everyone shared the one source, audiences wouldn't bother reading them all because they all be the same, boring stuff. Think about it. If you, and 30 other journalists had the chance to interview Ronaldo, you would all take it because after all its Ronaldo. The only downside would be that you would then have 30 articles all saying the same thing and audience getting bored after reading 1. Now think about having the chance to interview Messi. It would be hard but total payout if you got it. Plus, you would stand out from the rest and that's what would gain audiences' attention."

Once again, the reporter sighs. "Look, kid. I've been in this job for 20 years and I've learned that sometimes you just have to cut your losses. If your objective is to get something to write about for your article, then you should do it however and whatever way you can, doesn't matter who the source is. If your objective is to get something from Mark Wahlberg specifically? Then you should scrap the whole article and try again. Something is better than nothing."

"I refuse to take anything from Tom Holland."

"Suit yourself. Good luck. Oh, by the way, I think you're still recording. Wouldn't want you to get your chance with Mark only to realise you have no storage left on your recorder."

You mumble a weak thanks and remember to press the pause button on your recorder. The reporter saunters away back towards the crowd, your only indication of knowing where Tom Holland is. You consider it for a second, but determination drives you away, following Mark to the next hole.

~~~~

It's all to play for in the final hole with only two possible candidates capable of winning the trophy. Currently sitting in the lead is the elusive, mysterious Mark Wahlberg, strolling casually along to the final hole with his team behind him. Ah, and of course, next in line is Tom Holland soaking up the attention as he strings along behind Mark Wahlberg like an apprentice would their mentor. It's not clear whether the confidence he walks with is a poorly executed imitation of his acting mentor ahead of him, or whether it is a man deluded with besting him. All will be revealed within the hour.

It's well into the evening of the Pro Amateur competition and the luck that reporter wished you earlier has yet to find you. With the final hole well underway, you're starting to think that it never will. So far, you've gotten a few short, curt answers from other celebrities here but nothing near the sustenance your article needs. If only Mark could stop being so stubborn.

"One at a time please guys, one at a time." Tom's smug, arrogant tone of voice emerges from behind you and not too soon after, tens of other voices asking him questions. As he makes his way nearer, so do the swarm of people and in an attempt to get out of the way, you're stampeded by the press. Bumped, shoved and pushed, you struggle to find your balance and fall precariously on your knees with your equipment tumbling from your bag. In all honesty it didn't hurt, but what an inconvenience picking up all your bits and bobs. Ugh it's all his fault.

Before you do anything irrational and say something you shouldn't, you pack up your stuff and walk away.

The competition concludes with a twist that no one was expecting. With a gust of wind getting the better of Mark Wahlberg, it earned him a double bogey and cost him the trophy, annoyingly snatched up by Tom who achieved victory with a birdie. You seethe at the sight of Tom holding up the golden trophy, soaking up the champagne that his teammates spray all over him and hearing the applause from everyone, even you as a slow, lethargic clap rings from your hands. All to just to keep up the pretence of 'liking him' of course. Ugh, why did he have to win?

After a day of being the lone ranger in a journalists mission, you concede to following the crowd into the conference room where many like you await behind a wall of microphones and a valley of cables to hear from today's competitors. And Mark Wahlberg is one of them. This might be your chance to get a question in. Quick! Where's your recorder?

Fuck. It's not in your bag. Where is it? You rummage through your bag again and it's definitely not there. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Where could it be? Did you lose it when you fell over? Has it been stolen? Fuck, you really need that!

You have no other option but to record from your phone and in your quiet, subdued panic, you try your best to catch anything he has to say. The quality isn't great and it's picking up outside noise to the point that articulation has no place on your recording. Sweating at the loss of some expensive equipment and valuable content, your phone drops and the clatter of it paints a mountain on its waveform, rendering the recording useless. Fuck, if you hadn't lost your recorder.

People start to look at you in your fluster and your legs starts bobbing erratically. The attention is too much and it's exactly why you prefer to stay behind the microphone and not in front of it. You have to leave. At the next possible opportunity, you end your recording and begin to make your way through the aisle, apologising profusely to the other journalists who wait for Tom Holland to make an appearance.

You just about make the double doors of the conference room when you hear Tom's voice welcoming the room.

"Before I start, I wanted to check to see if this was anyone's recorder..."

Everything about you stops dead in its tracks; your feet, your heart, your breathing, your entire existence. Nervously, you spin around to spot Tom Holland holding your recorder in his hands, fingers fluttering around its buttons. How the hell did he get his thieving hands on it?!

A pit opens up in your stomach at the dreaded thought of having to announce yourself in front of everyone to claim it. But damn, you really need your recorder back.

Braving the nightmare, your hand raises half-heartedly into the air. "Uh...it's mine. Sorry, I must've dropped it."

Tom's deep brown eyes lock onto yours from the stage and he throws, what you think, a sickly smile before he offers up the most ridiculous idea. "I can set to record if you want. I can sit it riiiiight here." He sits it directly in front of him and sends you a sly wink. It's a spot any journalist would dream of having their microphone; right under their nose on the off-chance that anything muttered under their breaths or whispered discreetly would be picked up. Journalists are a sucker for secrets. Quite frankly, you don't care for his secrets, you don't care for his thoughts on today's events, and you really don't care for what he has to say at all.

But the only reason why you end up saying yes is because you care more about what people would think of you if you gave up an opportunity like that.

"Sure. Thanks."

You proceed to endure 15 minutes of Tom glorifying himself in front of the press. God, it's embarrassing. You could plainly hear the snide tone underneath the guise of 'self-evaluation'. Everyone seems to soak it up like a sponge, praising him for his insightful words and self awareness, writing nothing but positive words about the actor. Whatever. You wish you could drown him out but your paranoia is rooted to your recorder at his table, thinking the worst outcome as his fingers toying with its external case. What if he doesn't know how to work it and accidentally erases all you had from today? One slip up and it's gone. Your eyes constantly flicker from your recorder to him and no matter who he's speaking to or where he's looking, he always manages to catch your gaze.

Already outside your comfort zone, you audibly whimper when you see him lightly tap the little trash button at the end of the recorder, miles away from the stop, pause and play buttons that you would regularly use. You would only ever press that button with intention, it’s pretty to hard to press it accidentally. Even without knowing how to work the recorder, it doesn't take an idiot to know what that means, so watching Tom play with it tells you that he is whole-heartedly toying with you, enjoying the view of you panicking from his throne of sadism.

It's like he can sense your hatred towards him.

~~~~

"Thank you, thank you! Until next year!" Tom smiles as he walks off stage, your recorder in his clutch. The further he walks away, the faster you bob and weave through the crowd, feeling like you're fighting against the tide as it sweeps you out. Then, just as the room empties you reach the entrance to the backstage area in a relief, only to hit a brick wall that stands in your way between you and your highly coveted recorder.

"No press allowed backstage." A security guard towers over you.

"Tom Holland has my recorder. I'd like to get it back." You have no time for polite small chat, your request grumbling with agitation.

"Still can't allow you back--"

"You can let her through, Jim. It's alright." A young boy’s voice echoes from behind the wall.

The guard hesitantly lets you through, keeping you under his iron gaze while you slip through the narrow space he gives you. You are led out into a hallway with plaques decorating the hall, awards from winners of tournaments the venue has previously hosted, the newest addition being Tom's 'Pro-Amateur' plaque much to your distaste.

The boy you recognise as Tom's caddie leads you down this hallway, he hasn't said so much as a word to you as he confidently walks ahead. Now he's getting his assistant to fetch you? God, the arrogance!

"He's in here."

"Thanks," you quietly mutter. The door closes behind you, locking both you and the actor into the room. When you started the day bright and early this morning, you didn't think this was where you were going to end up. You couldn't have put money on it.

Although, you have to admit: despite putting your heart and soul into avoiding Tom Holland the entire day, this could be an exclusive for your article. Nobody else has had this opportunity, so why not take advantage of it?

Tom smiles as he greets you, carelessly tossing your recorder from hand to hand. You swallow nervously. "You are...?"

You respond with your name, who you report for, and make it abundantly clear that you would like to take back your recorder in one piece.

He approaches with a small, boyish chuckle like you just told a joke. "Sorry, I was just thinking," he casually says, "about how you once said you refuse to take anything from me."

What? Where did he hear...? Fuck. He listened to it. And that entire conversation you had with the Sky Sports reporter...

Your mouth drops. As does the anchor in your stomach.

"What was it you said again...?"

"You listened to it." He ignores you.

"Oh yeah, that my 'mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire wouldn't receive the same compliments'."

"You...listened to it all?" you reiterate once again. Your voice rings with all the inflections of a question, but you already know the answer. Unfortunately.

Tom's brows furrow inward.

"Honestly, I can overlook the fact you insulted my outfit, it doesn't bother me that much." There's a 'but' in his sentence. You're just waiting for it. You inwardly panic, trying to remember what else you said that would warrant that dreaded 'but'. Your shield of writer's anonymity has fallen; it's what protects you if you are to ever post negatively about a celebrity, but now that he knows your name and your face, you're left exposed.

"But..." There it is. And in a disbelief, he bites, "I'm too easy? Really?"

There's two ways you could go about this. Stand your ground and defend yourself, or dig yourself a grave and apologise.

Ha. Yeah right.

"I don't really think it was your place to listen to my recordings."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm. Should've minded your business if you knew what was good for you."

"You--" He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath, almost to contain himself and tries again. "You," he points accusingly, "are very...very lucky that you look as attractive as your voice sounds."

Your cheeks flush angrily. Safe to say, you're not used to anyone calling you attractive let alone Tom Holland, so in your fluster you have no idea how to respond. You don't know how to tame the flutter in your heart nor the fire in your stomach. Instead, you ignore it all and revert back to your original goal.

"Can I have my recorder back? Please?"

"In a minute." He swats his hand away from yours. High above your reach, you stand helpless as you watch his thumb crash land onto the record button, resuming from where it last left off. "I think that what you have about me in your article is a little bit too harsh. Why don't we start putting some positivity back in. I think you have it in you to pay me just one compliment. I did win the competition after all, I think it's deserved."

You laugh hysterically. The nerve of this guy! So conceited. "You don't deserve anything from me."

"C'mon. Just one. It's not that hard. I promise I'll give you your recorder back straight after."

Succumbing to his torment, your eyes roll over his features, his hair, his outfit and his body, trying to identify possible compliments that would meet his demands but yet wouldn't inflate his ego too much. What you don't anticipate is you're spoiled for choice.

Defeated, you sigh. "You...smell nice."

"Aw, c'mon. I said you were attractive and all you could think of was that I smell nice? Try a little harder."

"Hey, you said the deal was that I give you one compliment then I get my recorder back. Cough up, Holland."

A smug grin pulls at his lips. "I'm not satisfied. And I will give it back when I am satisfied."

Given that your hatred towards Tom Holland is now at least justified and not just self-inflicted, it means that it's twice as hard to sacrifice it all and compliment him like he so desperately wants you to, a complete betrayal to your own beliefs. But you NEED your recorder.

"You look strong."

"Elaborate."

"You clearly work out."

"What in particular?"

"Your arms."

"How can you tell?" He's really pushing the mark, overstepping it by miles with the dirty smirk he has on his face because he knows he is. You audibly grumble at the sight. Losing patience...

"They just looked particularly...muscular when you were swinging the golf club."

"Why don't you give them a feel and you can tell your readers how strong they really are in detail? I know you want to."

Is it bad of you to admit that you do want to feel them? Absolutely. Are you going to announce that to him? Absolutely not.

You don't move for a couple of seconds, your own conscience making so much noise inside your head that you can't make a coherent thought. A spark of adrenaline twitches at your hands, enough to catch Tom's eyes but it's not enough to swing it into force.

Quietly, slowly, he reaches for your hand and envelopes his fingers around yours, manipulating them to wrap around his upper arm. He makes sure to mold your fingerprints into his skin while he tenses, just to feel the sheer density of his muscles. His skin is warm, soft to touch but yet firm to grasp. While you become instantly fascinated, his glistening smile brightens in the corner of your eye. It's so quiet in the room that Tom hears the softest stutter of breaths and he feels like a winner all over again.

"Well?" He nods towards the recorder, its red button flashing. For the readers...

"Definitely..." you clear your throat. Why has your mouth gone dry all of a sudden? You retract your hand. "Definitely toned. Sculpted."

"If that's what you like then I should show you this..."

He takes your hand once again, its warmth holding you captive, and drags it all the way down to his torso. You can't pull your eyes away from how he sensually slips your hand underneath the hem of his shirt and weaves your fingers between the valley of his abs. Your fingertips skate over every sculpted ab of his, feeling the way they almost shiver at your cold touch.

Your fingertips aren't enough. Tom takes a step closer and your whole palm presses against him, almost too intimately for strangers.

Tom's head quirks to the side to get a better view of you. "Thoughts?" he asks, even though he can read them so clearly on your face. You're becoming entranced.

"...Holy shit," you whisper. "Um, yeah. Strong."

"For a woman who had a lot to say about me, you're certainly lost for words now."

As the heat rises and things escalate, neither of you diffuse the tension and the string of long, uninterrupted silence continues. Every minute that passes by is a precarious step over crossing boundaries and breaking every rule you have in your moral bible.

It forces you to suck in a nervous breath and hold it for a few seconds while you deliberate what the end goal is. Of course, it was to leave with your recorder but given your current position and your change of opinions, you're not so sure anymore. To be clear, your change of opinion isn't necessarily about Tom; you still think he's conceited, arrogant and incredibly vain, but it is what you do with that opinion that has changed. Before, you avoided him, stopped yourself becoming another little lost sheep and following him at every opportunity. Now? You're giving him every drop of attention you have to give.

Tom watches you intently while he silently introduces himself to your shyer nature, definitely not the same person that walked in here in a fit of rage and demanding for their recorder. The minute he meets that side of you, he knows exactly what to do next.

He drops his head as he drops his voice into his lower register, your hand feeling all the rumblings from his chest. "Want to be completely speechless?"

Fuck it. Sure you do. "Mm-hm."

"Good girl."

You aren't actually sure what he's planning to do so you look for intention in his eyes, but you see nothing but darkened caverns and devilish features. In fact, it's because you're looking into his eyes that you don't realise that he's grown hard underneath his straight grey trousers. Like before, he guides your hand fluidly underneath the waistband where the button pops out easily, and navigates you under the elastic band where he desperately shapes your fingers around him. He pulses underneath you, shaking with relief that he has you exactly where he wants you.

You dare not pull your eyes away from his, even as they droop in his pleasure. More so now that you admit how seductive they look. You try to mirror that same seduction with a small smile, moving your hand up and down his shaft independently.

Fuck, the more you move your hand, the more you think it's never going to end. Bluntly put, he's huge.

As a journalist, you should be eloquent with your words, careful in your choice of vocabulary, definitive with your metaphors, but all those years of reading and writing falters the second the sheer size of him stuns you. It slightly pains you to be so tasteless but nevertheless, you don't think there's any other way to put it.

So caught up in the heat of it, your common sense finally comes to once again acknowledge your recorder in his hand. You forgot he had been recording this entire conversation...

He brings it closer to his lips, seductively whispering directly into it. "Just like that..." He keeps going. "Doing such a good job - fuck - don't stop."

Encouraged, and progressively feeling turned on, you tighten your hand around his cock and move faster.

"How do I feel, sweetheart?" The microphone tilts towards you. Detail. Although at this point, you don't think it's for your readers as much as it is for you and Tom.

"So big. I almost can't fit my hand around you."

He very nearly buckled. That voice of yours is like a siren to him. Little do you know that when he found your recorder and listened to all of your little angry ramblings about him, it had sparked up a fiery, unavoidable desire inside him. It was hell having to listen to your voice talk shit about him, he just couldn't stand it. He needed to hear you compliment him, worship him, adore him, and he spent every spare minute of his day replaying your recorder, instilling your voice to memory until he could manipulate your words, imagining what they would say about him.

But now that he actually gets to hear you feed into his desire is twice the satisfaction than he initially thought.

As quick as lightning hits, an idea occurs to him and it completely devastates his entire system; if hearing you compliment him turns him on, how would having you beg for him make him feel? The idea becomes such an unstoppable craving he already knows his imagination won't be able to satiate it this time. He needs it for real and right now.

"You wanna taste?"

Doe-like eyes stare up at him - oh, you are so capable of begging him - and your movements come to a halt...all except your thumb sweeping over his tip. You didn't actually think this was going to go any further than a hand job.

"You want me to?"

Oh no, no, no. This isn't about Tom begging. "Because I know you want to. I can see how desperately you want to tell everyone how I allowed you to come backstage, meet me, get on your knees for me, how I allowed you to suck me off and how I allowed you to taste me." His hand slithers up your jawline and brings you close, leaving nothing but a hair's breadth to separate you. As you anticipate the feeling of his lips, you have but his breath fanning over yours and the anxiety bubbling at the pit of your stomach to feed from. "You just need to beg for it, sweetheart."

Beg. It was hard enough to lose one battle and compliment him, but to lose an even bigger one and beg? You would be absolutely humiliated.

Would be meaning if it was under any other circumstance, if you weren't so spellbound and seduced by him. But that simply isn't the case.

Not uttering another word, you slowly drop to your knees keeping Tom with the wicked grin within your sights. The zipper of his trousers comes undone and you pull him free, watching as his cock stands tall and bobs heavily with weight. Instinctively, your tongue rushes to wet your lips.

"Beg." Tom demands again. The recorder soon comes back into your view and your jaw clicks with frustration. He's capturing every single word much to his demented, power-hungry mind.

You chew through your irritation and instead tune into the feeling that's bubbling in and around your stomach, the one that's being powered by him. "Please," you breathe. "Please, Tom, I wanna suck you off so badly, I promise I'll be good."

"And do you promise to never write a bad word about me ever again?"

Oh, this fucker.

"I prom-"

"Say it like you mean it."

How you so wish you could lie through your teeth, but you know for a fact that from now on, any bad word you write about Tom Holland will forever be tied with this day. You'll think twice about writing badly because being on your knees for him will get in the way. You'll struggle to find the words to knock him because the compliments you paid him will stain your lips. You'll hesitate to criticise him because you'll remember how you verbalised about his good looks.

"I promise. Just--just let me taste you." It's sad how desperate you sound. "Please?"

He doesn't respond. There's one last warning to give.

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

Adrenaline rushes through your veins and your heart pounds. Despite being adamant in your dislike for Tom, you do somehow get the feeling that the threat that rings through his tone is not one to be taken lightly. It buzzes a little too seriously for you to brush over it. So you answer accordingly.

"Okay, I promise."

The threat dissipates and he looks at you approvingly, his empty hand dropping to cup your cheek. You aren't so unaware of the twitch of his cock in your hand. "I just want to make it clear and put on the record that out of the two of us..." Tom angles you closer, "it's you that's the easy one. Too easy. So easy that you're already on your knees and begging me."

How you would slap that grin clean from his face. The scowl on yours warns him of it, but he simply laughs, mocking you.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Admit it." His boyish chuckle continues to ring in the air and its contagious effect pulls at your lips despite trying to hide it. He sees clearly that it pains you to admit it, so as a small motivator, he crouches to your level, his hand still cradling your cheek. In quieter words, though still delivered through a smirk, he murmurs..."Be a good girl for me, yeah?" His lips melting onto yours stops you from getting the chance to reply. The surprise of it fogs up your brain, submitted into a dream-like state as he gently molds his lips onto yours. It's short and leaves you wanting more.

With a flutter of lashes, you nod. "Atta girl."

He stands up taller once again and you take that as your cue to fulfill your promise. Your lips wrap around him and your tongue darts to sweep over his tip. His groans can be heard above you and no doubt heard by the recorder, crescendoing the second your head starts bobbing. Your hand covers what your mouth can't reach, doing as much as you can to make him feel good. It seems to work; his hips begin thrusting. Slowly, at first, to swing into rhythm but the more you swallow him the less control he has of his own movements, and soon, with your hair wrapped tightly around his fist, he's rutting erratically, drinking in the sounds of your moans of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're so good at that."

"Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

"Taking me so well. Good girl."

"Just like that, shit."

"Look how easy you are, fuck. So willing, aren't you? You wanted a word for your precious Youth Diary? Here it is; you are so easy it's pitiful. Fuck--"

Tom's animalistic nature completely dominates to the point where your tears and gags are silently begging to slow down. Every part of you is screaming out: your throat is bruising, your lips are tearing, your eyes are streaming, your knees are cramping, but holy fuck hearing him talk about you like that fuels the fire inside you.

His thighs twitch underneath your hands and you think he might just cum down your throat. The red-hot grip he has of your roots is your only warning before that happens.

Warmth fills your mouth and you're quick to swallow it down before you choke, like it’s instinct. He holds you hostage with his cock deep in your mouth, using you to string out the orgasm for as long as he can. Minutes later, you open your eyes to see Tom hunching over, still very much catching up to you in regaining his composure. His white fist grips the recorder while the other remains tangled through your locks, keeping you in place to prevent you teasing him any further.

When all seems settled, Tom lifts your chin once more - dabbing off the little drop you seem to have missed - and catches your gaze from behind the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You already know what he's going to ask of you and when he perches the recorder in front of you, he shoots you a wink.

"Detail." He simply says.

"Hmm, you taste so good, Tom. Best I've ever had. I could taste you all day."

At that moment, something snaps in Tom. The smirk drops and his jaw tenses. It's small, minute changes, but it dramatically changes the atmosphere in the room. You just don't know whether it's for better or for worse.

You find your answer when Tom's muscular arms promptly tuck themselves under your arms with vigour, yanking you up onto your feet. The clatter of your recorder steals your attention as Tom carelessly throws it onto a coffee table to his right; after all, he needs his hands to be free if he is planning on returning the favour. You should be complaining about his lack of regard for your equipment and how he could've broken it, but the red flashing light still shows sign of life, so you decide to overlook it for now. Besides, Tom doesn't give you long before he whips your head back to claim your lips, hungrily moaning into them as he forces his body weight against yours and slams you flat against the wall. The collision whips all of the air out of your lungs but it isn't what causes the gasp to jump from your throat. Tom's lips find your neck, suckling onto the supple skin with intentions to bruise, all to distract you from his hand slipping under your skirt. With ease, he palms your cunt, offering just enough of a tease to have you burning for more.

"I need to hear you say my name again with that voice of yours." Ah, so that's what triggered him.

"Tom," you mewl, almost purring.

"As sexy as that sounds, I think it will sound even better when you’re cumming for me."

Oh fuck.

It's frightening how quickly Tom is able to weaken you with just the deft touch of his fingers to your clit and punishing kisses to your neck. You try your best to soak it in and remain somewhat stable to remember every moment of it, but goddammit you can't keep yourself together. So much so that despite Tom claiming to adore the sound of your voice, for the sake of dignity, he keeps his hand clamped hard against your mouth. Neither of you want curious ears to overhear the scandal coming from within.

Never did you think that Tom's all-round talents included making a girl cum so easily. It's kind of frustrating.

His fingers circle around your clit, dragging and pulling every nerve he can find and it winds you up perfectly. Legs shaking, breath faltering, you suspect you have mere seconds before he takes your orgasm.

Your whines and moans buzz from behind Tom's hand, muffled and diffused. Eventually he lets go, and replaces his hand with his lips, once again thrashing against yours.

"You gonna cum for me?"

"Fuck, I--"

"Say my name. Beg me to let you cum."

"Tom, please, I want to cum. Please let me cum."

Two fingers slot themselves into you, his palm taking over pleasing your clit and you have to stop yourself from buckling. It is the last sign Tom needs to know that you're on the precipice of shattering. With a devilish twinkle to his eye and a crooked smile, he sinks closer to you, his lips narrowly brushing against the shell of your ear and whispers the word. "Cum."

In a similar fashion to Tom what seems like hours ago, you come undone. Your hands grip onto his shoulders for stability as he refuses to stop abusing your cunt. His fingers dig deeper, his hand moves faster, and the tight curl of his knuckle breaking you sends you spiralling.

The gut-twisting tension soon turns to tranquil bliss as he slows his movements, finally catching a breath to revel in the post-orgasm haze with a twitch or two catching you out.

For as egotistical as you believed Tom to be, with the grounding kisses he litters over your cheek, neck, lips, he completely negates that belief. He utterly dominated you, yet affection fuels his movements; something you don't expect a vain person to have. Maybe he isn't all you made him out to be...

Calmly, you both collect yourselves until you're presentable, standing apart within the room as if what just happened never happened. The heat of the room is all that's left to suggest otherwise.

Tom doesn't stop you from reaching for your recorder, the plastic rectangular object feeling like home in your hand. You firmly press the stop button, letting the audio file save before you address Tom again.

"Thanks for...y'know, keeping it safe. I genuinely don't know what I would've done if I lost it."

Tom smiles kindly. "It's no problem."

"Oh, and congratulations."

He nods humbly. "Thank you. I didn't actually think I was going to win it, but I guess luck was on my side." Huh. He's not bragging...

Settling your recorder into your bag, you begin to make your way out of the room. You hadn't realised how late it had gotten and how hungry you had became until your stomach grumbled loudly. As you take your cue to leave, Tom leads you out with a gentle hand to the small of your back and chills arise. Shit. Don't start liking him now...

Tom clears his throat before you completely disappear. "Will I be seeing you lurking about any other events this year?"

Something about his question makes you smile. "Maybe. I've got a few film premieres that I will be attending."

"Good. Well, if any of them include me, I'll make sure to review your work again." How his wink makes you weak.

"Hmm, we'll see, Tom Holland."

~~~~~

It takes you over a week after the golfing event to eventually find the courage to finish writing your article. Most of it is written from what you remember thinking throughout the day, but your work leaves much to be desired. All that's missing from the article can be found on your recorder that you have deliberately been ignoring knowing what filth it contains.

It takes a couple of glasses of wine on a Saturday night to find the bravery to listen to it once again. It all goes smoothly at first, words flow from your mind to your fingertips and your article slowly builds as your past self feeds you your own commentary from that day. You were going to stick with your original idea, deciding to keep in all your criticisms about Tom Holland because who's going to stop you?

But your valour is short lived. Because you've reach the end. When you think you have the finished product, a masterpiece of literacy for your readers to enjoy and you have nothing else to write. Just when you think you're about to press 'publish' that you reach that part of your recording that you just can't bring yourself to turn off.

Shit, it turns you on so much to hear Tom's voice once again demand that you promise to never write another criticism again and the way you caved so easily in your lust-induced state. Even listening to it makes you resonate with it all over again, resurrecting the same excitement and anxiety to stir in your stomach. It's a reminder that persuades you that you don't necessarily agree with what you write about Tom. It makes you reconsider all that you've just written, your finger hovering over the backspace button prepared to fix the promise you're about to break.

Fuck. It's such a good story. Probably one of the best articles you've written. Alas, with the disagreement going on in your head, you can't find it in yourself to commit to it. There's also the problem that if you are to post it, the privilege of writers' anonymity will no longer be in your possession. Tom does, after all, know your name and your face, and you are damn sure he will take the time to find it and read it. What unnerves you is that you have no idea what actions he might take. How could you forget that warning?

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

So there you sit with your empty glass of wine, chewing nervously on your nails while your eyes dry at the light of the screen you've been deliberating over for the last three hours. The question still remains.

What do you do?

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Talking Heads - Kosei Nenkin Kaikan, Tokyo, Japan, April 28, 1982

We just checked in with the B-52's around the time of Mesopotamia (which David Byrne produced and played on), so let's see what Talking Heads were up to back then, too. The band was in Japan, naturally. A bit of a transitional moment for TH — right in between the epochal Remain In Light tour and the Speaking In Tongues / Stop Making Sense era.

Even though SIT wasn't ready for prime time just yet, the Talking Heads universe was rapidly expanding, as the advertisement above tells us. David Byrne's Catherine Wheel collection was out; Jerry Harrison's solo LP The Red and the Black was out, too; and, of course, the Tom Tom Club was riding high on "The Genius of Love." At this point, Talking Heads must've seemed like an unstoppable engine of creativity and innovation — some kinda peak! Despite (or because of) this lofty summit they'd climbed together, they were all no doubt exhausted and sick of each other to some extent.

But this Tokyo audience tape shows no sign of weariness — it's a great time. The expanded band had changed slightly since the previous year; Adrian Belew had jumped ship to sail proggier seas with King Crimson and Bernie Worrell was missing for some reason, replaced ably by Chic's Raymond Jones. Nevertheless, it's all killer no filler, with a setlist that draws from the Heads' back catalog, as well as some more recent jams from The Catherine Wheel. We even get a Jerry spotlight with "Slink" from his record — kind of funny, though, you'd be hard-pressed to tell the difference between his vocals and Byrne's. And what about the Tom Tom Club??? It's not on this tape, but I believe they opened the show with their own set — you can check out what they were up to as a live act via this great video from later in the year at the Montreux Jazz Festival ... and then you can check out Talking Heads burning down the house, too.

[mister-tom-a-dildo-lover]

Since it's a celebartion, can we get something where Tom surprises Harry for his birthday? I see a lot of Harry giving Tom gifts or surprising Tom but never the other way around. Thanks! Any kind of story au will do.

TY! ^-^

Fandom: HP Ship: Tomarry Rating: T-Rated AU: Alternate Universe - Same Timeline, No Voldemort TAGS: Birthday, Fluff, Pre-Relationship

~.O.~

The Point of Invention

It was going to be Harry Potter's birthday, and Tom had been invited to the party. And yes, it was considered a party because unlike many of the pompous Pureblood families, the Potters didn't host balls or fancy dinners where everyone was supposed to judge each other in respectable silence. It was just a party. A very muggle approach to such an event as well.

Harry had sent Tom the invitation personally, and he knew it because Harry's script was atrocious and very easy to differentiate between the writing of others. Theodore Nott had also received an invitation to the party and his invitation was made almost exactly the same except the words inside were all typed out perfectly, whereas Harry chose to leave Tom a personal note, which had to mean that he favoured Tom over the other potential guests.

As an orphan with nothing really to his name, Tom had to improvise on gifts.

He could not purchase anything that Harry would not already be able to purchase for himself. And Harry was incredibly intelligent and talented, so it wasn't as if he needed assistance with his classwork. Harry's mother, father, godmothers, godfathers, and other extended relations that weren't directly of the Potter line, all possessed Masteries in their chosen fields, so Tom had nothing to offer on whatever it was Harry decided on for his future as those in his life already had more information than he could hope to provide.

It was difficult, he'd admit.

To be perfectly honest, at least in the depths of his own mind, Tom hadn't really cared much about his own birthday, or the birthdays of pretty much anyone else at Hogwarts. The most ever he put in was getting everybody in his year's dorm room, gloves and a scarf, every Yule. He didn't put in any effort beyond that.

But this was Harry James Potter. Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, member of the Famous Witches & Wizards Trading Cards Club and Frog Choir, defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, and currently the holder of the highest Defense O.W.L. grade in Magical Britain's history. It would feel wrong to give him an unimpressive gift. He wanted Harry's regard above all others after all. He had to prove to Harry that he was worth knowing.

Which meant Tom had to get creative.

Magic could do many things, and Tom's control of his magic was leagues above most everyone in Hogwarts, even the majority of the professors included.

If Tom put his mind to it, he'd succeed at anything.

And since he decided he wanted Harry Potter's attention and admiration, there wasn't left for him to do, but create. Harry wasn't swayed by Tom's pretty face, so maybe Tom's brilliance would say him instead.

~.O.~

"Tom... did you make me a magical mobile phone?" Harry asked, staring at the boxy item in his hand. It was decently heavy, but one side was completely made of smooth, obsidian glass.

"I tweaked the basic idea. As Two-Way Mirrors were also inspired by muggle creations, but can take a long time to react, I felt they were insignificant. Presently, muggles have advanced their mobile phones to be touchscreen-capable, carrying functioning cameras that can take both photos and videos, and connecting to the vast information highway of the internet. I have not figured out how the internet truly works in order to replicate connecting to it safely without placing our existence in danger, but this device can at least take photos and videos, as well as connect to the six others I have created for you to share without whomever you wish.

"The connection is instant, and they can record basic audio as well. Now, there is a connecting piece of equipment much like a muggle television. If you take a photo or video, you insert this cartridge into the device to copy it. You will then, much like a tape player, insert the cartridge into this slot under the big screen, and you will see/hear what your camera recorded."

Tom proceeded to, presumably, take a photo of Harry with one of the other 'phones', remove a cartridge from the base of the 'phone', and then insert it into the 'television'. Harry's baffled face was displayed in full colour, as well as the gaping people surrounding him at the party.

Somehow, in an attempt to create a birthday gift for Harry, Tom had managed to discover how to make photos appear in colour... with magic. They'd suffered with black and white and sepia photos for decades because magicals couldn't crack the secret behind colour photography.

After that, Tom demonstrated how to place a call, showing how well the receiver and speakers worked on the 'phones' he's created, and how Harry could use the camera, much like a smartphone in the modern muggle world, to start a video call. Like a more advanced Two-Way Mirror basically. And the screen was rather sizeable too.

A glance to the side showed his parents openly gaping, although his mother looked especially interested, eying Tom's inventions with eager eyes. She probably wanted to know what Charms he'd used. Or if he'd used Charms at all.

This was the most effort Tom had ever put into anything besides his grades and his reputation. They were friends of many years, and Harry admired him a lot, but to go to the trouble of improving upon an existing invention so Harry could use it to stay in touch with his loved ones more easily... That was far more than most would ever do.

This wouldn't benefit him in any way, yet he still went and did it. And it had to have taken him ages to work through considering his summer job took up half of his free time.

Distantly, he recalled that one time, Harry's mother Lily had informed him that in life, he should surround himself with those who 'loved him to the point of invention'.

Tom hadn't said those words specifically, but what else could it be? What else could he be saying with such a thoughtful gift? What else could he mean when he dedicated himself to learning how phones and televisions were made so he could replicate them magically?

Harry felt a sprig of warmth bloom outward from within, and he couldn't help but smile at Tom winningly. He then decided to tease Tom a little by kissing his cold cheek and making his face go bright pink with sudden warmth. "You're very sweet, Tom."

...And he might have broken Slytherin's future Head Boy. Just a little bit.

~.O.~

A/N: Thanks for reading! ^-^

Check out my Tomarry/Harrymort fics on AO3!

Watermelonsmellinfellon(Mister-Tom-A-Dildo-Lover)

[Ko-Fi]

[o-craven-canto]

The greatest fictional portrayal of Americans ever is the opening of Jules Verne's From the Earth to the Moon (1873):

But the point in which the Americans singularly distanced the Europeans was in the science of gunnery. Not, indeed, that their weapons retained a higher degree of perfection than theirs, but that they exhibited unheard-of dimensions, and consequently attained hitherto unheard-of ranges. [...] Now when an American has an idea, he directly seeks a second American to share it. If there be three, they elect a president and two secretaries. Given four, they name a keeper of records, and the office is ready for work; five, they convene a general meeting, and the club is fully constituted. So things were managed in Baltimore. The inventor of a new cannon associated himself with the caster and the borer. Thus was formed the nucleus of the "Gun Club." In a single month after its formation it numbered 1,833 effective members and 30,565 corresponding members. [...] The estimation in which these gentlemen were held, according to one of the most scientific exponents of the Gun Club, was "proportional to the masses of their guns, and in the direct ratio of the square of the distances attained by their projectiles." [...] It is but fair to add that these Yankees, brave as they have ever proved themselves to be, did not confine themselves to theories and formulae, but that they paid heavily, in propria persona, for their inventions. [...] Crutches, wooden legs, artificial arms, steel hooks, caoutchouc jaws, silver craniums, platinum noses, were all to be found in the collection; and it was calculated by the great statistician Pitcairn that throughout the Gun Club there was not quite one arm between four persons and two legs between six. [...] "This is horrible!" said Tom Hunter one evening, while rapidly carbonizing his wooden legs in the fireplace of the smoking-room; "nothing to do! nothing to look forward to! what a loathsome existence! When again shall the guns arouse us in the morning with their delightful reports?" "Those days are gone by," said jolly Bilsby, trying to extend his missing arms. "It was delightful once upon a time! One invented a gun, and hardly was it cast, when one hastened to try it in the face of the enemy! Then one returned to camp with a word of encouragement from Sherman or a friendly shake of the hand from McClellan. But now the generals are gone back to their counters; and in place of projectiles, they despatch bales of cotton. By Jove, the future of gunnery in America is lost!" [...] "Nevertheless," replied Colonel Blomsberry, "they are always struggling in Europe to maintain the principle of nationalities." "Well?" "Well, there might be some field for enterprise down there; and if they would accept our services----" "What are you dreaming of?" screamed Bilsby; "work at gunnery for the benefit of foreigners?" "That would be better than doing nothing here," returned the colonel. [...] "Ridiculous!" replied Tom Hunter, whittling with his bowie-knife the arms of his easy chair; "but if that be the case there, all that is left for us is to plant tobacco and distill whale-oil."

[foxes-that-run]

https://x.com/erodalighthouse/status/1860862311830823179?t=9bAYbirsdaUQhKPjN-8D4A&s=19

What does this mean????? Is it original or some song or some poem??????

It’s original I think, posted at 1:45am London time.

Dean and Old Compton is in London SoHo, on that corner is:

The Groucho Club which is a private members club that Harry went to *a lot* in 2012-2013, usually with Nick Grimshaw. It’s also where Taylor went with Tom O’Dell after the 2013 Brit awards which Harry was also at. Harry was there a week before it seemed to be a favourite of his at the time so... interesting.

More likely is the Dean Street Studio - Bowie recorded there as well as Florence and Adele who worked with Kid Harpoon on those records. When Harry, Tyler and Kid were photographed in SoHo in October 2023 they were a 6 minute walk from that studio.

The silhouette stands out to me too, it reminds me of “she sits beside me like a silhouette. Hard candy dripping on me till my feet are wet”