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greenorangevioletgrass · 2 years

Text

wildest dreams (t.h.)

“nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take me down.”

masterlist | kofi

pairing: tom holland x domme!reader

summary: tom sets out to blow off some steam at a bdsm club during the far from home press tour in bali... and gets so much more.

word count: 8,275

warnings: language, drinking, shenanigans, harry and sam make a cameo, d/s dynamics, dominatrix!reader, a lot of yearning, a lot more smut! (specific warnings under the cut!)

notes: here we are, folks! it started with a gossip blind item and now we’re here. this wouldn’t have come to fruition if it weren’t for @shipping-not-sailing and @tommysparker ily guys <3 enjoy!

smut warnings: [degradation, punishment, pet names, slight pet play?, spanking, use of riding crop, light bondage, dirty talk, edging (both sexually and emotionally lmao), oral (f), unprotected sex, very brief anal fingering]

***

Amazing. Brilliant. Show-stopping. Next level. Just the best.

Spread over four cities and about a million interviews for this one movie, Tom has heard all the possible compliments known to man. And it’s not like he doesn’t appreciate them —too much ego-stroking just makes him feel uneasy. He’s not really saving the world from super-villains and global catastrophes. Hell, he’s not even the real hero of the job; he just runs around playing pretend in tight spandex, while the stunt team and VFX do a lot of the weightlifting. It makes him feel undeserving of the praise.

Of course, being Tom Holland, he’d sooner be caught dead than coming off as less than enthusiastic (or worse, downright rude) during his press junkets. Sometimes professionalism is about taking it in stride. So he smiles through the interview, once again joking about how much Marvel keeps him out of the loop when asked about a spoiler for the next Spider-Man movie. If there will be any more of it.

“I mean, I would love to do more. I’d play Spider-Man for as long as I can, if I’m honest. But, uh, let’s hope Marvel and Sony feel the same, too,” he replies diplomatically.

Meanwhile, his mind wanders to what he should do to unwind when the day is over. He could go swimming —the villa he’s staying in has a private infinity pool overlooking the sea. Or he could grab a few drinks and check out a club; he is in Bali, after all.

“Congratulations on a job well done. It’s really the best Spider-Man movie so far and you’re the best Peter Parker ever, and once again. Thank you very much, Tom.”

The praises hit him like bricks, and it takes him everything to not wince as he shakes the interviewer’s hand. “Cheers, mate. Nice meeting you.”

Tom knows just what to do to unwind. Truth be told, he’s been thinking about it since the world premiere in LA, but surrounded by all his friends, there’s no way he’d have the time or space for this. Besides, he figured he could save this for a rainy day.

And if that rainy day happens to just… happen in the vacation/party capital of the world, he sure isn’t complaining.

The room goes into a lull in between interviews, and Tom uses this to send Harry a link captioned,

Tom: can u sus out this place for me mate? thanks

He sees Harry reach into his pocket on the corner of the room. The redhead leans against the wall and pauses, probably opening the website and skimming through the content. His eyes widen for about two seconds until he looks around, making sure nobody’s watching or peeking at his screen and composing himself.

The website’s shows ‘The Edge of Uluwatu’ on the header in a clean white font against the sleek black background. But the layout is about the only thing that is simple about this. The homepage boasts a slideshow of artsy, provocative pictures of a riding crop bitten between a woman’s red-stained lips, teeth bared like a vixen. Another woman with her stiletto heels against a man’s face, a la Margot Robbie in The Wolf of Wall Street, except the man is half naked and wearing a leather collar around his neck, the very rope tugged by the same woman herself. Another picture of arms bound behind their back in an intricate shibari tie, gentle hands fastening it.

Harry manages to keep a straight face as he types up a reply.

Harry: what the fuck????

Tom: just ask ade man, cmon pls 🙏

Harry glares at him, but Tom merely glances at the person in question. Ade, Tom’s liaison officer in Bali, is a young woman not much older than the lot of them. She has a warm smile, but something about her also screams a solid ‘Do not fuck with me’ vibe. In summary, Harry has no idea whether she would laugh in his face or tell him to piss off.

Harry scowls, but comes up to Ade at the craft service table anyway. He picks up a bottle of water as he gathers the word (and what’s left of his pride) in his head.

“Hey, Ade. Listen,” Harry clears his throat, his voice feels scratchy. His heart all but drops to his knee when she turns to him, “We don’t have anything scheduled for Tom tonight, right?”

“No. Unless you want me to set something up for you…?” Ade offers, already taking out her phone out of her back pocket. Ever so efficient, she might just be better than Harry at this job.

“Um, I was thinking of checking out a club…”

“Sure! What vibe are we looking for? Signature cocktails? Great live music? Private beach area—”

“Have you ever heard of The Edge in Uluwatu?”

It takes Ade less than two seconds to catch on, but God, if it isn’t the longest pause Harry has ever felt. “Uh… yeah. It’s not so much a ‘drinking and dancing’ kind of nightclub as it is a, how do you say it… a gentleman’s club,” she smiles politely, meaningfully to make sure he understands.

Harry makes a mental note about how he’ll kick Tom’s ass for what he’s about to ask Ade. He squares up and says,

“I know. I was wondering if it’s legit, as in proper and — um,” he looks around the room to make sure nobody’s listening in, “kink-friendly.”

Ade raises an eyebrow as it finally dawns on her what exactly this Linguine-looking dude is looking for. She must’ve thought he’s one hell of a kinky boy. But she nods in all seriousness. “Oh, it is. Yeah. We get a lot of VIP guests going through there —actors, musicians, businessmen… they’re very discreet. Real class.”

That went down easier than I hope, Harry muses. “Cool! Um.” he shifts on his heels. Already bracing for the worst, he’s not sure what to do with himself now. Should he explain himself? Does he need to arrange something? How the hell do you make an appointment at a club like that?!

“I’ll arrange a car for… 10.30 tonight, is that okay?” Ade gratefully, kindly puts him out of his misery and pats the poor boy on the back as she goes to greet the next interviewer.

“Well?” Tom looks up expectantly as Harry walks past him.

“How do I say this…” he stuffs his hands in his hoodie pocket, “I want a big fat raise and a new camera.”

Tom simply laughs. A small price to pay for a naughty good time, really.

***

The Edge seems like any other luxury resort on the island. Tucked behind winding roads and lush greens on each side, the handsome minimalist villa sits on top of a cliff, with waves crashing against the rocks down below. A spacious foyer, tastefully decorated with local sculptures and warm lighting, greets incoming guests, where they’d be escorted into one of the rooms on either wing of the building.

But of course, the rooms aren’t ordinary hotel rooms. Behind each door is a suite professionally decorated into a theme, from sensual French boudoirs to classic sex dungeons and medical suites to cater for clientele with every kind of taste.

Currently, Y/N is sitting in the Moulin Rouge-inspired room-- lush purple walls and rich red sheets and Bohemian decor- fixing up her sheer dressing gown in front of the vanity mirror, making sure her wine-colored lipstick and batwing eyeliner are flawless.

She receives a text message from the front desk. ‘Your client is here. On the way to you now.’

And from there, it’s just a waiting game.

Y/N would drape herself on the daybed sometimes, or sit by the massive four-poster bed, or hang back at the break room to make them wait an extra minute or two. Play up the dramatics of this gig.

But tonight… It feels like a low-key night. She’d read the dossier of her incoming client —someone new. Nothing too extreme, as far as kinks go. It should be an easy enough session to cap off her shift. So she stays seated on the plush bench and plays with her hair while she waits.

The door makes a soft beep as it reads a key card from the other side, and Y/N sees her client’s face before he does. He spots her on the other end of the room and scrambles to close the door behind him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were already here, I—”

Y/N raises a hand, promptly stopping this boy’s rambling. She doesn’t speak right away, and the tension is thick in the air. One might think she does it to tease him-- when in reality, she does it for her own benefit.

She only fell asleep watching Spider-Man on Netflix last night, after all.

“It’s alright. I just thought I’d… freshen up.” she finally turns around and stands to her full height, heels and all. She approaches her new client and offers her hand. “Tom, right?”

“Yes.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it.

She stays cool and unfazed as she takes a better look at his face, now certain this is the same face she saw in the movie last night.

“Charming,” she remarks with a half-smile. “I’m Mistress Ivy.”

“Nice to meet you, Mistress Ivy.” he nearly bows before her, and she thinks it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen in a while.

“Please, make yourself at home.” She motions over the entire room, choosing the daybed by the window to sit, fully knowing it makes her look like a painting of Venus.

Tom visibly gulps, glancing at the chaise and then back to her as he waits for her permission.

She gestures at the empty spot next to her and watches him sit down, keeping an appropriate distance between them. Like a good sub, Y/N notes.

“So what brings you here, Tom?” she crosses her legs and notices him looking.

“I, uh… I want to be punished.”

“Mm. And how do you like to be punished?”

“I… like to be spanked. And tied up. And degraded and called names.”

Y/N nods and smiles knowingly, noticing his clear and concise answer. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Always good to know what you want,” she reassures him.

The two of them talk some more about the technicality of their session, and Y/N finds herself studying Tom a little further as he relaxes into the conversation. Flustered, but bold. Eager, but respectful. She briefly thought he was a sweet kid in the movie (she’d probably have a crush on him as a high schooler, she mused), but that’s about it. But now that he’s in front of her, she begins to see much more.

Tom is more on the petite side, but all lean and taut muscles, if his forearm and the lining of his fitted shirt and dress pants were anything to go by. He carries himself with such ease in his own skin— grounded and grown up, but not enough to get rid of the earnest air about him. His big doe eyes and the slight bump in his nose makes him all the more endearing.

She’s starting to think maybe she’d have a crush on him now, too.

“I gotta say… you look like a sweet boy,” Y/N muses as she makes her way towards the chest of drawers across the bed. “I wonder what you did that warrants a punishment, darling?”

His eyes darken and his cheeks redden at the pet name. “I… fuck. I’ve been an insufferable little shit all day,” he confesses.

“And a foul-mouthed one at that, too,” she notes, “Watch your language.”

“Right. Sorry.”

She looks at him pointedly. “‘Right sorry’ what?”

“Right, sorry, Mistress.” Tom looks down, though he can’t help stealing a glance at his alluring domme across the way.

“I thought you’ve done this before. Or should we start easy for a cocky pissbaby like you?” she coos mockingly, her head tilted to the side, still calm as can be.

Tom promptly straightens up. They’re not fucking around anymore now. “No, Mistress. I can take it. I promise.”

She takes one more appraising look at him. “We’ll see. Why don’t you strip down to your underwear while I choose the toy I’m gonna use to play with you, hmm? Can you do that, sweetheart?”

He normally likes the more brutal names, but the way she says ‘sweetheart’ feels like poison, and he can’t get enough of it. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Go on, then.” she turns away, as much as she’d like to watch him peel all those layers off of him. It’s so easy to forget how much this dom/sub dynamics is a test to her patience, too.

Tom slips out of his clothes in about 3.6 seconds, and he’s never been more thankful for his military training for an upcoming project. He stands up straight in front of the sofa, hands crossed in front of his lap to conceal his semi-erection.

“Are you wound up already?” Y/N glances down at his clasped hands.

“No…” He doesn't know how to answer that.

“You’re only gonna get in more trouble if you lie to me, baby…”

His head couldn’t decide fast enough if he wants to get in her good graces or get the punishment he’s been craving, and he ends up stammering around like an idiot.

She rolls her eyes impatiently. “For God’s sake. Are you or are you not hard right now?”

His first instinct is to try and will his boner away, but the more he does it, the more he imagines the punishment that awaits him.

And the harder he gets at the thought of that.

And stupidly, mindlessly, he still looks at her for an answer with, “No…?”

“Hands to the side, then. Let’s see it.”

Fuck. He slowly unclasps his hands, hoping for one last miracle that his erection would magically go away somehow. But of course, there he is, pitching a tent underneath his boxer briefs before even doing anything.

“Oh, you’re just looking for trouble, aren’t you?” she chuckles darkly. “I was gonna put you over my knees, but now I’m not sure I want your hard, leaking cock pressed against me.”

“No. Please, Mistress, I—” he drops to his knees, ready to crawl his way to forgiveness.

But she raises her hand, and he immediately halts. It’s amazing how her presence arrests his attention immediately; no raised voices, not even a curse word out of her. And yet he feels more deliciously tortured than he ever imagined he’d be tonight.

She doesn’t say anything for the longest time either. Just… studies him. His brown curls, even browner eyes, and his chiseled chest —rising and falling with each bated breath.

“Look so pretty on your knees, like a puppy,” she sighs. “Well, come over here, then. On all fours. Off you go.”

He makes his way across the room, and Y/N indulges in the workings of his back muscles as he crawls to her feet. Tom stops just inches away from your legs, remembering his place for once.

She makes the first move to run her fingers through his hair, and shivers at the touch just as he does. “Got anything to say to me?”

He looks up at her, “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

Y/N is mustering up all of her willpower to not give in to those big brown eyes. “Sorry for what, puppy?”

“I’m sorry for, for…”

“For being a pathetic little whore?”

Tom moans and hums.

She tightens her grip on his hair, tugs it back so he looks her in the eye. “Say it.”

His eyes shut and he takes a deep breath to brace himself. “I’m sorry, Mistress, for being a… pathetic little— whore who… couldn’t keep his own cock in check in front of his Mistress.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up; she wasn’t expecting the second half of that sentence. But needless to say, she was pleasantly surprised. “That’s much better, isn’t it? My sweet, pathetic little whore.”

Tom nuzzles her leg, the side of his face rubbing against the sheer fabric of her dressing gown as she softly scratches his scalp.

“Ready for your punishment, whore? Mm? Are you?”

The looming threat underneath her soft, dulcet voice is driving him mad, and he can only nod and murmur ‘yes Mistress’ and ‘thank you Mistress’ as she orders him to bend over by the foot of the bed.

“Tell me,” she starts, “In a perfect scenario, what would your toy of choice be for your punishment?”

He grips the sheets hard. The only thing worse (or better, arguably) than the punishment itself is the anticipation. The sizzling moments of silence in between. There’s nothing he wants more than to look over his shoulder and see what his Mistress is up to. But something tells him she’ll deny him even further if he does.

So he swallows and says, “Your open hand,” his knuckles white at the thought of her sweet, soft hands on his body.

“Is that right?” there’s a hint of a smile in her voice.

“More than anything, Mistress.”

“Well. As much fun as that sounds, it’s not a punishment if you get what you want, right?”

He’s in deep fucking shit.

“But it’s not my punishment, so I can get what I want…” she croons. “And I want to use this on you.”

Tom gasps as soon as he feels it touch the back of his neck. It’s small and barely textured, the edges ever so subtly scratching his skin as she runs it down his spine.

“You’re gonna take it, aren’t you? You’re gonna take it anyway like the pathetic little whore you are,” she whispers in his ear.

He shivers and whimpers out a ‘yes Mistress’ more desperate than the last.

And then comes the swift swoosh of the riding crop, and then a snap.

Sharp and stinging against his backside.

He bites back a moan, unsure whether he’s allowed to make any sound.

“How do you feel?”

‘So good, Mistress, oh my God…”

Another strike lands on his right cheek, harder this time.

“Where the hell are your manners, huh?” she whips him on the other cheek.

“I’m sorry. Thank you so much, Mistress…”

“That’s more like it. Enjoying yourself, pup?” Y/N swipes the crop down the dip of his lower back and she swears he nearly buckles down.

He feels another lash on each of his inner thighs, where his boxer briefs meet his skin, “I am, Mistress, thank you,” and he finds himself arching his ass higher for her.

And for her only.

And this woman, with all her power and her pride, only scoffs at his response. “Well, you shouldn’t be. This is a punishment, remember?” Her smooth, honey-sweet voice is a stark contrast to the nasty cracks of leather against Tom’s skin.

She strikes him one, two, God knows how many more times. And for him, it’s both overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. It sends him singing to the high heavens, yet it’s not enough to keep him floating in the air.

And like Orpheus and his star-crossed lover Eurydice, he eventually succumbs to his temptation. He catches a glimpse of Mistress Ivy, with her wine-colored lips between her teeth, the bell sleeves of her black dressing robe flowing over the motion of her arm. She looks…

Magical.

And as quickly as she sends him up to the clouds, she yanks him back to the ground with one sharp glare.

“No, no, no.” She turns his face away with her riding crop, letting it sit under his chin. “You don’t get to look, baby. You just get to take what I give you, okay?”

He faces forward and fixes his posture again, though not without a whine.

But once he’s had a taste, he can’t go back. With every lash, he moans his thanks. His pleas— for what, he’s not entirely sure himself.

“Please, please, please. Mistress, I…”

“What do you want, pup?” Y/N ceases her strikes and slides her riding crop right between his legs, right against his stubborn cock. Fluttery, feather-lightly. Fucking threatening.

Tom bites his lower lip to contain his needy whines. “More…”

“More what?”

“Just— more.”

He’s starting to lose balance on his feet and focus in his eyes, teetering on the edge of subspace, and Y/N motions towards the bed.

“Take off your pants and lie on your back in the middle of the bed.” she sends him off with a soft pat on his rump, and returns to the chest of drawers.

There’s a lull, but Tom likes it. He savors the precious moment of relief, to breathe and rest his shaking knees and sore ass —and oh how it tingles when his bare skin meets the silk sheets.

But most importantly, he gets to watch his Mistress take out a couple of silk ropes and walk over to the headboard, with the robe floating behind her. She sits by his side, palm open for him to surrender his wrist to, and he nearly swoons at how gentle her touch really is. His soft binds might as well be sandpaper compared to how deft and delicate she works them around his hands.

“You’re very pretty,” he pipes up quietly.

She smiles a little, “Thank you,” as she fastens the dark red rope on his other wrist, one against each side of the bedpost, and he swears it’s almost… tender.

Almost.

“Don’t think you’re getting away easy just by a little flattery, though,” she deadpans, and stands up on the side of the bed.

Y/N has to remind herself to slow down. Enjoy the moment. The view of this pretty boy, arms spread and restrained, carved up by the gods, entirely in her mercy. Fuck, she loves her job sometimes.

She tugs the string around her waist and lets her dressing robe slip off of her shoulders. The heat is starting to get to her— whether it’s from the exertion or simply from the tension, she’s not sure. But she loves putting on a show, and she loves seeing the wind knocked out of him even more.

Tom’s cock flexes at the sight of her and she thinks, gotcha.

“You’re enjoying this little punishment way too much, aren’t you.'' She lands an experimental whip on his pec, eliciting a strained groan out of him.

“No, Mistress…” he shuts his eyes hard, brows furrowed, like he’s trying to convince himself.

Crack! Another lash on his inner thigh. “Then what’s this, huh?” she whips higher one time, and then another, inching closer towards his erection.

He’s shameless squirming from the impact now. “I can’t help it, Mistress, please!”

“Please what?” The whip slides under his strong jawline.

A whimper, and then… “Punish my cock. Please.”

“Oh, this?” her riding crop moves swiftly along his curving member. “This desperate, pathetic cock of yours? In your dreams, slut.”

She slaps him across the face, and it is a miracle that he doesn’t cum right then and there— and quite frankly, it’s quite remarkable that she’s still able to stay calm and focused. His torso is her canvas, and with every strike, she paints it a little more red, a little bit every time. His tip leaks pearly tears as it envies other parts of his body that she deems worthy of her attention.

Little does he know, the rest of her world long faded away until it’s just him.

Sweat beads on her forehead, and the handle of her whip practically melds into her palm, now an extension of her limb. The way he squirms at every touch sends shivers down her spine. Oh, how badly she wants to feel his skin burning on her naked palm.

And by the way he strains against his binds and arches after every lash while chanting Mistress, he seems just as desperate for her, too.

“What is it, my little slut? Have you learned your lesson?” Y/N asks in a saccharine-sweet tone.

He tugs his wrists up. “I’ll be a good boy, Mistress, I swear.”

“That’s more like it, pup…” she smiles in satisfaction, reining in her punishment for the finale. “How about we do 5 more lashes, and then we’ll get you out of these ropes, hmm?”

But he turns away, his jaw flexing as he processes your words. “You haven’t… you haven’t punished my cock once— please?”

Y/N’s ice cold facade has melted for the most part, and it takes her everything to not give him… well, everything.

“Such a good little whore, asking for his punishment…” she coos condescendingly. “But you can’t cum, alright? Not during, not after. Can you keep your cock in check for me, puppy?”

“Anything for you, Mistress,” he sighs, resting his head back on the soft pillow.

It’s not like she didn’t want him to cum. If she had it her way, she would’ve straddled his lap and jumped his bone in a heartbeat. But the club applies a strict no-sex policy, and it weighs her down in the back of her mind like a distant, persistent alarm.

The last five lashes are the most torturous of all— not just for him, but for her. His cock presses stubbornly against his toned abs, the wide patch of skin now glossy from precum, and the two of them put all their mind to counting down the final moments of the punishment, distracting them from the one true temptation.

For Tom, it’s coming undone from her ministrations. For Y/N, it’s letting him do so.

Five. Four. Three.

Two.

One.

For a split second, Tom is actually convinced he’s gonna lose his mind as the orgasm teeters on his every nerve ending. And then…

Nothing.

It dissipates until it’s nothing but a dull ache, and by then, he feels a gentle tug on his wrist. One and then another. And then he’s free, though he makes no effort to test it.

“Tom?” The same sweet voice from earlier calls out. Quietly. Carefully. “You still with me?”

The bed dips next to him, and he finds himself reaching out. “Mistress?”

“Hey…” there’s no malice in her voice anymore— no mischief. “You did so good for me, baby.”

He feels her hand on his wrist, rubbing gentle circles with her thumb, and he feels like he just won the lottery. “Thank you,” he breathes out.

Her soft fingertips travel up to his shoulder, soothing his tender skin with her palm. On his chest, his flushed cheeks, on his pronounced hip bones, and taut inner thighs. Falling asleep has never felt so easy, but he fights the urge to meet her eyes.

Her kind, curious eyes looking down at him — studying him, much more earnestly this time.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Would you…” he swallows, just realizing how spent his throat is from the whispering and the whining and the begging, “Would you lie here with me, just for a sec?”

And Y/N wants to cry in relief. “Of course.”

She climbs into bed next to him, too close to give him space, but too far to alleviate the yearning between them. His hand is on his chest and she rests her palm on top of it, and if their legs get tangled on the sheets, neither of them say a word.

***

Two showers, eighteen hours and countless interviews.

That’s how long it’s been since Tom’s little recreational activity last night, and he’s still not able to get it off of his head. He’s running on autopilot, answering the same questions over and over again, all the while terrified he might blurt out something he’s not supposed to.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking hands with the last interviewer of this press tour leg until the person had left the room. Barely remembers getting into a car. Stepping out at a beach club and having a drink with Sam, Harry, and Ade.

“You alright, mate?” Sam frowns, snapping him out of his reverie.

“What? Yeah, sure.” Tom expertly waves him off. “It’s just been a long day, is all.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to go scuba diving tomorrow!” Harry groans, but then turns to Ade. “I mean, ‘surfing’, for the record. We are going surfing tomorrow.”

Ade laughs. “You know I was assigned to be buddies with you guys to make sure you don’t get into anything stupid, right? Marvel’s not letting you off the hook that easily.”

“Exactly, we’ll take what we can get,” Sam retorts without missing a beat. “And hey, you also get to break the rules with us a bit.”

The twins exchange mindless banter with their chaperone, but Tom simply laughs along. His mind is elsewhere.

“I’ll get the next round, alright?” he gets up from his seat and heads towards the bar. He signals the bartender over, finding an empty spot between a massive Viking-esque dude and a woman in a pale blue sundress at the bar.

“Hi, can I have four more Guinnesses, please? Thanks.”

Tom keeps his head down, wary of getting noticed, but he can’t help feeling a pair of eyes boring into his side.

“Holy shit.”

Her voice should have set him off. He should have ducked out before the patrons mobbed him for selfies and Spider-Man-related questions, but something about her— her timbre, her inflection made him stop.

And when he looks up, he’s convinced he was making shit up in his head.

“Mistress Ivy, I… wow. Hi.” He knows he shouldn’t say it, but otherwise he wouldn’t be able to tell if it’s true or his mind is playing tricks on him.

She laughs, and oh God, what a sweet laugh she has. “I don’t go by that out here. I’m off the clock, see?”

“Well, nice to meet you, Mistress Off-The-Clock. I’m Tom.”

“Charming,” she grins, saying the exact thing she said last night— because she means it. She offers her hand, “I’m Y/N.”

The irony of shaking hands, again, after everything they’ve been through the other night is not lost on them, as they each hold back a smile.

“So, uh, what brings you here?” Tom asks, gingerly scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s my night off,” Y/N motions at the beer bottle in her hand.

“Oh, same.” He regrets responding so quickly— now he has no idea where to go with this conversation. All he knows is he doesn’t want this to end yet. So he gambles his life and says,

“Do you wanna get some air?”

She raises her eyebrows, and he could recognize that look anywhere. That amused, knowing look she makes every single time he does something bad last night. “What about your four Guinnesses?”

Tom looks at the new, full beer bottles in front of him, and back at his table, where the trio is talking and laughing without a single care. So he faces her again. “They’ll be fine.”

It’s always strange to run into a client outside of work, but Y/N has to admit, this time, it’s not… unwelcome.

“Shall we?” Tom tilts his head towards the beach, and with that, she leads the way out.

Y/N takes off her sandals as soon as they step off of the deck, and they walk for a little bit. Arms accidentally grazing as they move away from the hustle and bustle of the bar, closer towards the gentle waves and quiet rustles of leaves. They walk and walk until the crowd feels distant and they sit under a palm tree with their toes buried in the sand.

She watches him become himself —confident and earnest at the same time. He doesn’t say much about the glitz and glamour of his work (he doesn’t think she’d be impressed by it anyway), but she likes how he lights up when he talks about home. He is every bit as fascinated about her work and her completely unrelated university major. It’s refreshing, and a painfully easy non-first date. And she’s completely right that she would have a crush on him.

In fact, she might already have.

Tom takes a swig of his beer, partly in amazement of her academic achievements, and partly in good-natured self-deprecation. “Aw man, I could never do what you do. School was rough for me. My parents put me through Catholic school for a while and—”

“Catholic school, huh? Is that why you turned out so… perverse?” her smile grows wide and naughty.

“Hey! Don’t kinkshame me,” he nudges her elbow, quietly impressed that he didn’t spontaneously combust at the touch.

But she’s always one step ahead of him, and God, he loves that. She leans back on her forearm and lies on her side, looking like Venus under the moonlight with wits as quick as Hermes.

“I’m not! I’m just… wondering if the whole punishment and degradation thing had anything to do with your, uh, upbringing.”

“No!” He answers a little too quickly, and questions himself. “I mean… I don’t think so. Wait, do you think it was…?”

“I mean, who knows, maybe you were called into the headmaster’s office one too many times…” Y/N side-eyes him as she drinks.

“Ew, that’s gross!” he makes a face, and he rolls onto his back laughing in feigned disgust.

They inch closer together like gravity, and soon they’re lying face to face, not quite touching. Almost.

“Okay, okay, okay. How did you get into it?”

“Well, my ex-girlfriend kind of roped me into it,” he chuckles at his own little pun. “We started off easy —some spanking, some light bondage… and then worked our way up.”

Y/N nods in approval. “A woman with great taste. I respect that.”

“She is, yeah. The relationship didn’t work out, but at least I figured out what I liked, right? What I need sometimes…” he trails off.

It quiets down, and she almost doesn’t want to ask. But he meets her gaze, and it’s almost like an invitation. You’ve broken down the walls, no need to get courteous at the door anymore.

“And what’s that?”

“I need to... let go, that’s what I fuckin’ need to do sometimes,” he laughs wryly, “I get super stressed out about work and, you know, keeping things together for press tours and all this, so… getting my ass beat and brought down a few pegs feel grounding somehow. Weird, I know.”

“Not at all,” she reassures him softly. “I mean, shit, it’s what I do for a living.”

“How did you get into it?” Tom turns to her, his smile almost cocky and challenging. It’s infectious, and she can’t help smiling back.

“Similar story, actually. An ex-girlfriend put me up to it— sweetest little sub, shame it didn’t work out. But she was the one who suggested I do this professionally, actually.”

Y/N has this way of telling so much by saying so little that endlessly amazes him. It takes him a few seconds to even choose what to process first; the fact that she had a girlfriend (which low-key blew up his straight boy mind, in the best way) or that anyone would have that experience with her for the first time and think of sharing it.

He is shocked, baffled, envious, and ultimately, thankful for it all. If it weren’t for that tiny suggestion, he wouldn’t have been here, lying under nothing but the moon and the tree, unveiling the most naked parts of himself with her in every sense but one.

“Well. You’re very good at it,” Tom finally, lamely remarks.

But she closes the gap between his hand and hers, and taps his wrist once. “Thank you.” her eyes bore a piercing gaze, but he can’t seem to meet her halfway just yet.

“I hope it’s not inappropriate of me to say, but… I haven’t stopped thinking about last night.” he toys with the sand under his fingertips, pliant to form yet stubborn to grasp. It’s a bit like this little encounter that way.

She hums, quiet and content. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. If I’m being honest... neither have I.”

He only looks up then. “Really?”

“Yes.” She meets his eye, devoid of mischief— just pure, simple, maybe a little funny truth.

They gravitate closer and closer towards each other, finding it increasingly harder to maintain this space— and for what? When their lips meet, it feels like connecting two missing pieces of the puzzle, and the more they touch, the more they make sense. The more they become one with the earth they’re tethered to and the sky over their heads.

But they’re insatiable. They’ve tasted pure bliss and they crave more, more, more.

Tom just barely pulls away from her sweet lips, his hand cupping her face like he’s afraid she might turn to dust. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

“You’re my client. I shouldn’t…” she leans her forehead against his, nuzzling his nose, even as she says it. She doesn’t want to let go and she knows it.

“I was,” he corrects her. “I mean, I’d hardly be in Bali much anyway, right?”

“Such a smartass,” she rolls her eyes, although she doesn’t fight the smile on the corner of her lips. Or the voice in her head that says, keep going until I’ve run out of reasons not to do this with you.

“I know. I was hoping you’d do something about it?” he pouts and plays up those big brown eyes, and she’s gone.

“Behave, puppy.” she goes in for another kiss, and then—

There’s buzzing in Tom’s pocket.

It’s jarring and sobering and he groans.

“Shit. I’m so sorry. One second.” he picks up the call. “Harry? Yeah, I’m just outside…”

Y/N gets up to give him some space —some room to back out before they go forward with this. Nothing would have happened, and they can go back to their own lives. No harm done. No hard feelings.

But Tom sees her stand up, immediately at a loss of her warmth in his close proximity. Brushing white sand off of her legs, akin to some bronze sculpture of a deity he doesn’t know the name of. The wind blows in her hair and her sundress, and for a moment, the moonlight hits her side profile just right. And there’s just no way he’s leaving her for anything tonight.

Harry’s voice sounds distant and distorted with background noise, and Tom cuts him off immediately. “Listen. We have the morning off, right?”

The younger boy pauses. Then tuts. “It’s that girl, innit?”

Reducing this insanely beautiful and sexy and smart person to just ‘that girl’ feels like an understatement, so Tom just chuckles. “Bro, you have no idea.”

“Ugh, fine. But if you’re late tomorrow, we’re going scuba diving without you,” Harry relents. “Take care. Don’t do anything overly stupid.”

“Bye, mate. Love you.” he hangs up the phone, and gets on his feet to catch up with her.

“Well?” She stands tall, straight, and they both feel her walls building back up to brace for what’s coming next.

“It’s my brothers. They’re going back to the hotel.”

“Oh.”

“Told ‘em to go home.”

“Oh.”

She’s quiet for a moment. Then, as sure as day, she offers her hand,

“Well then. Shall we?”

***

Y/N’s house is a stone’s throw away from the beach, tucked in a quiet street just off of the main road. The wooden gate opens up to a carport, where her silver city car and scooter are parked. Next to it is a small swimming pool against a wall covered in wisteria and climbing jasmine, with one pavilion on either side.

They walk past the first pavilion, a bright and spacious living area that opens right up to the pool. A guitar is propped against the couch, and Tom briefly pictures Y/N serenading herself on slow nights.

“Wow. You have a really nice place,” Tom remarks as she welcomes him into her second pavilion, an eclectically decorated bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pool.

“You sound surprised.” She pulls him in, nuzzling his nose with hers.

“I just didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Not sex dungeon-y?”

He grins just a breath away from her lips, “Kind of?” and closes the gap once again.

Their lips are bound, but they feel untethered. There’s no nosy fan or paparazzi or club policy threatening to interrupt their time together. And God, he wants all the time in the world to worship this girl’s everything.

In that moment, Y/N tugs the halter ties on the back of her neck, and her little sundress falls to the floor. Tom feels it slip through his fingers and then his hands meet her skin. Soft. Warm.

He tears himself away, just to take a good look at her. “Shit…”

And there she is. No piece of clothing on her body (not even panties, Christ), and no fucks to give in her confidence or her boldness— and why should she? She’s the most alluring creature he’s ever met.

“Like what you see?” she hums, backing him up until he’s sat on the edge of her bed.

He forgets how to use his voice for a moment, and just nods dumbly.

She doesn’t hide her amused, enamored laugh when she lets him pull her into bed. Nor the happy sighs when he peppers kisses down her neck. All over her soft chest.

“Can I… Just wanna—” he nips at her diamond-hard nipple and she moans at the sharp sensation.

“What do you want, puppy?” she lazily runs her fingers through his messy curls.

“I love it when you call me that…” he groans, moving onto her other nipple —gentler somehow, like he’s thinking. “Wanna… fuck, I wanna taste you. Please?”

She’s definitely just as wound up as she is, yet still she can’t resist teasing him. “Oh? Have you been thinking about it since last night?”

“Fuck yeah I have. I didn’t— fuck…” he feels her thigh rubbing at his stiff cock through his pants and he nearly blacks out. “Kept thinking if you were wet when you were punishing me. Wanted to eat you out as a thank you.”

She bites her lower lip. “I’ll let you in on two things.”

He perks up, paying good attention even in his state of arousal.

“One... I was wet since you crawled over to me,” she whispers in his ear, and feels the shiver running down his spine. “And two… I wouldn’t mind that delayed gratification.”

And with that, Tom’s eyes turn pitch black as he slithers down between her legs. He spreads her thighs and dives right in— burying his face in her wet pussy.

“Holy fuck…” Y/N gapes, his mouth flooding her senses in the best ways imaginable.

And in all honesty, she has imagined how Tom eats her out a lot. She imagines him soft and tender, maybe a bit shy, but definitely eager to please— but not like this. All pussy drunk and ravenous and shameless in sucking her clit and fucking her with his tongue. Too out of it to even ask for permission like he usually does. The only thing coming out of his mouth is just muffled groans as he devours her.

And fuck, does he devour her well.

His ministrations make her clench around nothing, and she’s fully ready to get bossy. But before she even makes a sound, she feels a finger slipping inside, and another. Long. Skillful. Beckoning her closer to orgasm.

“Yes, ohmygod. Like that, just like that…” Y/N rambles on as he strokes that spot inside her.

He curls and curls his fingers in as she falls apart, and he kisses her clit for good measure. She feels her pulse under his mouth and then everything else blurs into a haze of pleasure.

But then he doesn’t stop. He continues laving at her clit and slobbering on her weeping cunt for every drop of her arousal, pumping it in with his digits, and it sends her shaking again.

“Baby…” she gasps, pulling his hair like it’s the hardest thing to do, “Slow down.”

He wills himself to unlatch from her pussy, but even then, he still kisses down her inner thigh. “You taste so good. Wanna make you feel so good forever, too.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” she smiles, “But what about you, huh?”

“Don’t care,” he murmurs into her skin.

But she pulls him up so he’s hovering on top of her. Chin glistening with her juices, hair sticking out in all directions, lips sucking his own wet fingers clean… he’s the prettiest little thing she’s ever seen.

“But I do.” Y/N’s hand traverses down his body, feeling his stiff cock painfully strain against his pants. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about your cock all night. You’re not gonna deprive me of that, are you?”

He vehemently shakes his head.

“Then take these off and get over here.” she sends him off with a cheeky smack in the ass, and Tom gets out of his remaining clothes even faster than last night.

He sidles up next to her and she wastes no time kissing him, tasting herself on his tongue.

“Fuck…”

“What is it?” she wraps her hand around his hard length, firm but not too tight.

He swallows. “Wanna be inside you. Wanna— shit— wanna make you feel so good.”

He’s so gone for her pussy, and she would tease him if she didn’t find it so fucking endearing. “Go on, then.”

Tom stops, like he’s not sure he heard it right. But she puts his cock between her legs, teasing her own clit with his tip, his arousal melding with hers, and he nearly loses his mind.

“Go on. Make me feel good, puppy.”

She kisses him one last time in agreement, in challenge, and something snaps within him. He props himself up, hovering on top of her as he lines his cock into her opening. So warm, so inviting. So…

Right.

There’s no words. No games. Just the overwhelming feeling of warmth and fullness and familiar body ache that takes their breath away. He fits her so perfectly —filling her and stretching her like she’s never felt before, she can’t imagine it getting any better than this.

Until he draws back and plunges himself in again, and she realizes… it does.

Tom feels like he’s possessed. Driven by blind, searing lust that just keeps burning and burning. He can’t get enough of how breathtaking she looks writhing in pleasure. Can’t get over how amazing she feels around his fingers and his cock and his body. Knowing that he’s serving his Mistress well.

And Y/N knows that, too. She makes a mental note to reward him with lots of kisses and more, but that comes later. Now… now she’d just sit back and enjoy how pretty he is, with sweat-damp curls framing his boyishly handsome face. His mouth hangs open, making way for those gorgeous moans. Lean hips rutting against hers, every thrust driving pleasure home to her.

She traces her hand along his jawline, admiring his profile from underneath him.

“So pretty— so good for me…” her thumb caresses his lower lip.

“All for you,” he breathes out, taking it in his mouth and sucking on it.

And as she gazes at his sunken cheeks, she fantasizes about him sucking on her strap-on before she returns the favor (another mental note she makes).

She finds her clit with her wetted finger, but he stops her.

“Wait. May I?” He looks at her with pleading eyes, kissing her wrist tenderly. “Please?”

Honestly, who is she to refuse such a request? She nods with a breathless chuckle, edging closer to her high as he draws patterns on her swollen bud.

Her mind is hazy with orgasm, but she has another idea. Her hand moves up his thigh, towards the swell of his ass, and she doesn’t miss how his breath hitches at the touch.

“May I?” she asks, trailing over the line of his backside.

He groans, eyes shuttering closed. “Yes,” he barely utters.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

“Yes, please… what?” Her nails are digging into his soft flesh, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t come right then and there.

Instead, he drops his head onto the crook of her neck. Mouth greedy on her skin, hands and hips picking up pace. Y/N strikes his ass once, quick and sharp and hard, and he blurts out,

“Yespleasemistress, Christ!”

The next thing he knows, her deft hand is splitting his cheeks and finds his taut ring of muscles and nothing else matters. Just their hands, stroking and coaxing each other, as they bring themselves closer. Towards each other.

Towards bliss.

Y/N finds Tom getting dangerously close, and captures him in a searing kiss. “Come for me, Tommy.”

He bursts into a nothingness of pleasure with her name on his mouth, and with that, she follows him into beautiful agony. Feeling full and whole and happy.

They lie there for God knows how long. There are no words; just lazy kisses and labored breaths, and bodies melded together. Y/N strokes Tom’s hair, his head resting on her chest, listening to her steadying heartbeat. Both of them trying not to count the hours until the sun rises and this encounter has to end.

If it ever does.

#wildest dreams fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x woc!reader #tom holland x dom!reader #tom holland x you #hollandsrecs #aaaaa its hereeee!!!!#im scared but also excited #sub!tom #sub!tom holland

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