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duskholland · 3 years

Note

imagine waking up to tom while you’re staying at his parents’ house. you can’t do anything because of where you are…so he’s just clingy and cuddly and gushy and lowkey annoying but you love it :))

my tom yearning levels have been through the roof for the last few days and i think writing this finished me off... thank you. cw: very slightly suggestive.

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Tom is pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, lips tender as they run over your skin from your arm to your neck. His kisses are feathery light, and so, so gentle, and you can’t even be too mad at the fact you’re being woken up because he’s doing it so softly and with so much consideration that you feel your lips twitching into a smile.

“G’morning, darling,” he rasps, voice light and quiet. “Sleep well?”

You hum, then blearily open an eye to look at him. Tom is cuddled into your chest, resting on his side with one of his legs thrown over yours and his hand splayed out across your chest. He’s shirtless and warm, his brown curls arranged messily over his head and glinting almost gold beneath the beams of morning light, streaming in through the gaps in the slats of his bedroom blinds. His thin pink lips twitch into a gentle smile as he meets your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper, too tired to speak properly. You stifle a yawn and reach up until you’re able to rest a hand on his side. “You?”

Tom nods. “Had a dream about you,” he admits. Before elaborating, he curls even closer to you, clinging to you like a koala as he buries his face back into your neck. You giggle lightly as he tickles your skin with his kisses, his other hand reaching up to blindly pet your face, fingers gently rolling over your cheek. “You were so lovely in it—bloody adorable—then I woke up, and you were still here. Thought to myself, how lucky am I to get to wake up beside this every morning, eh?”

You chuckle, biting your lip as Tom sits up onto his side. He rests with his elbow digging into the mattress by the pillow and anchors his head up with his hand, his loving gaze trailing all over you as you smile.

“You’ve already got me in your bed, you can turn off the charm,” you reply, voice tired but affectionate.

“Never, darling.” Tom leans down and kisses you, his fingers slotting along the line of your jaw as he holds you to him. After a few moments of lazy, close-mouthed pecks, he pulls back to press his forehead to yours. “I’m not being a good boyfriend if I’m not constantly telling you how spectacular you are.”

“Psh.” You try to brush it off with an eye roll, but you reach up and weave your fingers into his curly hair, humming as your noses brush. Tom’s warm breath fans out over your face, and you sigh. “You’re too nice to me.”

He gasps as if you’ve said something to personally offend him, then collapses down onto the mattress beside you. He’s still on his side, but he gathers you up in his arms and pulls you into his chest, not stopping until your forehead lies against his chest and you’re being held so tightly it’s almost an obstacle to your breathing.

“No such thing,” Tom states. “Let me adore you, love,” he pauses, tone dipping, “before we have to go out there and deal with all of them.”

You snort, eyes shut as you enjoy the feeling of his hands palming over your back.

“You make it sound like spending time with your family is the worst thing in the world,” you tease. “You love being here with them. Stop being so dramatic.”

Tom groans. His hands roll down your spine, briefly skimming over the curve of your ass before dipping back up.

“I love them, yeah. But I love you, and I love being with you.” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. “But… seeing as I’m on a sex ban, I’m trying to enjoy every second I have alone with you.”

You chuckle. “You’re not on a sex ban,” you chastise.

“Yeah, yeah.” He cups your cheek and gently coaxes your from his chest, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “Whatever.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you giggle. “I’m just saying, they don’t need to know. We could be really, really quiet.”

You shake your head. “No way,” you say. “Are you forgetting what happened last time?”

Tom briefly scowls, but it’s quick to fade when you raise an eyebrow. “Fine,” he grumbles. “But that was Haz, not any of them, so—“ he breaks off as you firm your stare, and he decides to just kiss you instead. “Anyway,” he mumbles. “I’m just appreciating my stunning, incredible, lovely girlfriend before we spend the day with my family. Is that allowed?”

“I suppose.”

His lips are warm and soft, and you get lost in them for a while as you drift between bliss and daylight. His fingers rub warm circles to your waist, his legs tangled up in yours, and you realise, as he twists himself even further into your arms, that you’ve never felt more content in your life.

“I love you,” he whispers. You separate, both of you sharing one of his pillows, and you’re so close together that his features blur. You can still make out his eyes though, honeyed and brown, flooded with warmth. “You are...the love of my life.” Tom drops a few more lazy kisses to your lips. “I love you so much.”

You hum. Words couldn’t possibly capture how much you adore him, so you only hope he can tell how fondly you hold him in your heart as you snuggle closer and kiss him. His curls are soft against your fingers, as is the rhythm of your hearts, beating together in sync.

“Love you too, handsome,” you murmur. “Big softie.”

Tom sighs, but he doesn’t dispute it. Instead, he just kisses the tip of your nose.

“Only for you,” he grumbles. His frown melts into a lazy smile as he meets your eyes. “Only for you…”

#me editing this blasting ed sheeran and having a breakdown bc :') boyfriend!tom exists and he's not here with me rn </3 #enjoy :'))#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader fluff #im so soft tnite....no one touch me....#tomblurbs #tom.sfw #myblurbs

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duskholland · 3 years

Text

The Box || Tom Holland

summary ↠ you feel a mysterious object in tom’s pocket... word count ↠ 4.2k. warnings ↠ mildly suggestive, but this is just some very easy domestic fluff :’) a/n ↠ this is a rewrite of a fic I wrote back in 2018! I sat down just to edit it, but I ended up adding 2.5k and changing most of it. lmao. it’s very cute though. very gentle. I was in a proper state after watching cherry, and working on this soothed my soul <3 hope you like it!

if you want to read the original version of this fic, you can find the link for it here <3

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You wake up to an empty bed and immediately get the suspicion that something is amiss. The sheets are pulled down, the duvet crumpled, and the mattress cool. As you draw your tired fingers over the space beside you, a soft pout finds your lips.

Tom’s away so often that he rarely skips out on the opportunity to cuddle you in the morning, and if he does, he’s always attentive in the way he pulls the duvet to your chin and tucks you in. He knows you hate to be cold, so he’d never usually jump out of bed so recklessly, leaving behind his uncovered side and your leg sticking out the duvet.

Perplexed, you yawn as you sit up. A quick glance at your phone confirms that it’s still early, and you find your confusion about your boyfriend’s disappearance quickly turning into concern. With a furrow to your brow, you slowly get out of bed, groaning softly as your tired limbs stretch and click. There’s an ache between your legs that makes you bite your lip, memories of the night before flittering through your mind like polaroids. You see flashes of a rose-tinted Tom, kissing up your thighs, panting into your shoulder, moaning sweet words of praise against your lips. He’d made you dinner, then laid you down, and you’d felt like the only person in the world as he’d cupped your cheeks and shown how much he loved you.

After pulling on a pair of leggings and a jumper, you find your curious feet taking you off in the direction of the living room. You hear Tom before you see him—the sounds of socks dragging over plush carpet filling the air. He’s pacing, half-naked, thick arms crossed over his bare chest as a few fingers stroke his chin. He’s in a thick pair of fuzzy purple socks, and rounding off the ensemble are some simple grey sweats.

When your boyfriend reaches the other side of the living room, he pivots and starts to walk back towards you, gaze vacant and fixed on the floor. There’s a tenseness to his jaw that you haven’t seen in a while, the valley between his brows pronounced and deep. Stress is obvious in every single part of his person, and it makes you so concerned that you decide to shatter his reverie.

With a gentle clear of your throat, you step forwards.

“Tom?” you say, voice soft. Your eyes widen as he startles, head snapping up, loose brown curls springing through the air. “Baby, are you okay?”

He blinks at you for a few moments, seeming to shake off the daydream as his lips pull into an instinctive smile. When he meets your eyes, the nerves on Tom’s face start to melt. He gives you a tight nod as he walks towards you, folding into your outstretched arms and immediately burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m fine,” he vibrates, voice dark and husky like it always is in the morning. “Are you?”

You cup the back of his head with your palm, dragging your fingers through his curls in a way that soothes him. He’s so warm, his arms strong as they wind around your waist and hold you in a tight hug. Your heart beats a little faster at his question. He’s always been so attentive, even in times like these where it’s clear that he’s significantly worse off than you.

“I’m okay,” you respond. You press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he releases a quiet sound of approval, snuggling closer. “You weren’t there when I woke up.” You pause for a few moments, hesitating. “Is something wrong? Is this about last night?”

You know that Tom loves you. He shows you every single day that he adores you. He leaves your special mug out by the kettle, brings home your favourite snacks from the shops, does your dreaded household tasks unprompted. He looks after you when you’re ill, has all the names of your extended family memorised, and always does his best to coax a smile onto your face. His love for you is as obvious as the stars that twinkle in the sky.

Yet, he left you alone, and he’s stressed, and even as you’re voicing your concerns, you can feel him tug himself free from your embrace. It’s hard not to focus on the loosening of his arms and think about his odd behaviour from the last few days. Tom’s been on his phone more, acting scatter-brained and nervous. You don’t doubt his love, but with his life as hectic as it is, you worry about him.

“Last night?” Tom says. He pulls back, warm hands falling to your waist as he peers at you, shaking his head. “Darling.” He frowns. “Last night was amazing.” His lips pull into a slight smirk as he squeezes your hips, eyes glinting a shade darker. “I had fun. Didn’t you?”

You press a light kiss to his cheek, shifting both of your hands to cup his face. His skin is so soft beneath your fingertips. “I had a nice time,” you agree, pushing back the memories before you can get too lost in them. “You’ve been stressed recently,” you observe, treading gently. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

Tom closes his eyes, inhaling a quick breath. “Yeah... I know. I… Yeah. I’m fine.”

You play with a few strands of his hair, trying not to frown too much. “Are you sure?”

He pries open an eye, the honeyed hues of brown bringing you a sense of comfort. “I’m a little stressed at the moment. I have to do something today, and I… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, love… A lot.” He breaks into a breathless chuckle, swallowing nervously. “It’ll be fine. I know it will, but I… I can’t stop thinking about it.” Tom’s gaze shadows a little, and he swallows. “You do… You do love me, don’t you?”

“You have to know how much of a silly question that is.”

Tom bites at his lip as he sheepishly averts his gaze. “Yeah…” He’s sly as he gently pushes forwards to kiss your cheek. “‘Know you really loved me last night,” he rasps into your ear.

You roll your eyes, but you’re glad to see there’s some colour coming back to his cheeks. “What are you doing that’s got you so nervous?”

“Oh… Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Tom looks a little perkier now as he glances at you. “Nothing,” he repeats. “Well, a secret,” he clarifies. “I can’t tell you yet.”

Immediately you pout. “But why?” you whine, pulling your hands away from his face. “You can’t say all that and then not tell me what you’re doing.”

“Yes, I can.” He grins as he steps back, only leaving you once he’s kissed your lips. He hesitates for a moment before adding, “I love you. So much, darling.”

“I know,” you respond, tilting your head to the side as you look at him curiously. “I love you too.”

“Good. Good…” Tom steps back, briefly glancing behind you to the living room wall. His eyes widen as he looks at the clock. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I need to go.”

Tom runs away before you have a chance to catch him, stumbling back into the bedroom as he mutters something about finding some clothes. You decide to leave him to it, a yawn reminding you of how early it still is. You wonder for a moment why he hadn’t mentioned he had an early call time last night, but he’s been so all over the place recently that it doesn’t surprise you.

As you wait for Tom to re-emerge, you walk over into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. You can hear him whistling to himself through all the open doors, and the melody mixes with the sound of your teaspoon bumping against the ceramic of your mug. It’s your favourite one—Tom had brought it back from Paris for you.

You’ve just settled at the kitchen table when Tom bursts back into the room, properly clothed and considerably more at ease. His hair is a little wild, but he’s in a pair of jeans and a lilac hoodie, and he wears his smile with confidence.

“Did I tell you that you look gorgeous this morning, darling?” Tom murmurs. He springs across to you, grabbing his keys from the bowl on the counter as he goes. When he reaches you, he tightly cups your cheeks and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Because you are, y’know? The most beautiful woman in the world.”

You chuckle as you sit back in your chair, cheeks aching from your dopey smile. “Thank you,” you respond. “You’re looking very handsome yourself.”

Tom pulls on his jacket and then reaches down, stealing your mug of tea and taking a long sip before you have time to warn him about how hot it still is. You watch as he splutters, cheeks burning red as he releases a yelp of pain.

“Fucking hell!” he yells, cursing a little more as he puts the mug back down. Tom sticks out his tongue, tenderly reaching up to poke at the tip as he winces. “Ow,” he whines, the word garbled around his open mouth. “It hurts.”

He looks very sweet standing there, and for a moment, you wonder how it’s possible to love someone so much. Your affections smother your chest, and you almost choke up as you’re briefly overcome with a sensation of utter adoration. It’s so intense that it almost hurts, but it aches in the most wonderful way.

You stand quickly and press a soft kiss to the tip of Tom’s tongue. He smiles and retracts it, chasing after your lips until he’s able to kiss you.

“It’s Harrison’s birthday party tonight,” Tom says as he steps back, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I’ll be back from set at 9, then we can go. Is that still okay?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “Have a good day doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

He smirks elusively, then presses a final peck to your cheek before turning towards the porch. “Bye!” Tom pauses in the doorway to look back and send you a few air kisses, and you pucker your lips and send a couple back. The front door closes with a gentle click, and your smile lingers on.

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You think about Tom’s behaviour all day, flipping between confusion and adoration as easily as the wind changes its mind. When 5pm rolls around, you find your way back home, and you spend a few hours milling around before you get ready for the event.

With your dress on and your bag slung over your shoulder, you wait in the porch for Tom to pull up, scrolling through your phone with a crease between your brows. Time is ticking, and with every second your boyfriend fails to show, the nearer you get to being late for the party.

When there’s a bright burst of light and the crunching of gravel, you glance up to see Tom’s headlights douse the driveway to your house. You’re surprised when he clambers from the car instead of jauntily honking the horn as he’s taken such an irritating liking to doing. You watch him mess around with his jeans before hurrying along the front path, pushing open the front door a moment later and startling when he sees you waiting.

“Oh!” he exclaims wide-eyed. His hand drifts down to rest over the left pocket of his jeans. “You’re here?”

You pull a face. “Yes? Hello to you too.”

Tom grunts as he moves forward to kiss you hastily, jumping back when you try to pull at his waist and bring him nearer. As you’re left baffled by his behaviour again, he seems to swallow down a lump in his throat.

“Hi,” he corrects, smiling nervously. “I, uh… I’m going to go and change.”

You wince. “We don’t have time,” you point out, reaching out to gently tug on his sleeve. You turn around, reaching back to pluck one of Tom’s stylish jackets from a peg. You offer it to him with a smile. “Try this,” you suggest. “We really need to go, though, Tom. Haz won’t let us live it down if we’re late to another one of his parties.”

Tom hesitates. You watch as he digs his hand into his left pocket, clucking his tongue. “I… Yeah. Okay. You’re right.” His eyes flutter back to the main body of your house, but his reluctance fades when you nod and peck him on the cheek. He easily pulls off his hoodie before replacing it with the jacket, the red of the smart coat complementing his black t-shirt.

“C’mon,” you urge. “Do you want me to drive?”

He begrudgingly follows you out of the house, locking up behind you both before slipping into the passenger seat. As you navigate the roads, Tom keeps you company, nurturing a constant dialogue as he chats to you. He avoids all of your questions about his day and his mysterious engagement, redirecting everything you say into a comment about you and your activities. It’s cute how much he cares, but you get a distinct feeling that he’s trying to distract you.

Harrison’s birthday party is being held in a bar in central London, and you find him easily amongst the throes of people. Tom’s holding onto your hand, standing back, quieter, as you pass over your gift to his best friend with a smile on your face.

“Happy birthday, Haz!” you exclaim, beaming at the man. Harrison kisses your cheek as he grins, cheeks flushed from the booze and warm atmosphere. When Tom is noticeably quiet beside you, you squeeze his hand and glance back at him, raising a brow.

“Oh,” Tom mutters, blinking a few times. “Sorry,” he adds. “Happy birthday, Harrison.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “‘S alright, mate. You already passed on your congratulations earlier. Thanks, though.”

Your friend is pulled away by his sister a few moments later, leaving you with a confused furrow to your brow. You turn around to look at Tom, tilting your head to the side.

“Wait, when did you see Harrison?” you ask. “Weren’t you at work today?”

Tom reels you in by the hands, knocking his lips up against yours and disrupting your words. “Doesn’t matter,” he soothes, rolling his fingers gently across the sides of your face. “Let’s just have a good party, yeah?”

You melt into him with ease. “Okay,” you agree. His lips are warm and seductive as he kisses you again, deeper, harder, stronger.

Something is in the air. As a pair, you make a few rounds of the party, but somehow, you always end up huddled in a back corner together. As the alcohol flows and your friends around you get less and less observant, it happens more often. It isn’t long until Tom’s tugging you down onto a secluded armchair in the corner of the artsy bar. Your lips find home in his, slotting together as they always do.

As you shift in his lap, part of you feels guilty for blowing off Harrison’s birthday, but another part—a darker, hungrier part—demands you stay exactly where you are. You’re awfully comfortable with Tom’s hands on your hips and your legs spread over his thighs, content with the shadowy lighting leaving you secluded from the rest of them.

“Oh god,” Tom moans, speaking against your lips as he kisses you between laboured breaths. “Fuckin’ perfect woman, eh?”

You suck on his lower lip, smirking as you feel him whine. He discreetly grinds up into you, and you bite back a whimper. “Tom,” you whisper. You move your mouth to his ear, stroking your fingers through his curls as you brush your lips over his tender skin. “We shouldn’t do this here. We can’t go home just yet.”

He groans, head dropping down to your collarbones. When you expect him to agree and help you up, Tom instead seems to decide that his time would be better spent marking up your neck. Your pulse roars through your ears as he takes time licking and sucking and biting your skin, stretching from the base of your neck all the way up, up, up, soft lips suckling below your ear. By the time he reaches your face, you’re squirming, heat pounding in your body as desire replaces any wish to stay at the party.

“We should just go home,” Tom pants, lips red and inflamed. Your fingers drag over them until he uses his tongue to lick over the pad of your thumb. “I can’t take being here.” His voice drops down to a low grumble as he shifts in the chair, “‘m so hard, sweetheart.”

Wanting to feel for yourself, you shuffle up his lap, eyebrows furrowing together when instead of feeling his hardness, your knee knocks against something firm lodged where his pocket is. Confusion replaces lust as you tilt your head to the side. “Wait, what’s that?” you muse, unable to believe that his arousal has manifested itself in his jean pocket. Intrigued, you poke the object, pressing harder as your brows furrow.

Tom’s eyes widen. “O-Oh, no, that’s something else.” His hands go down to your waist as he tries to gently push you off his lap. “Just ignore it.”

But your curiosity has been piqued, and before you can stop yourself, you’ve reached up and dug your fingers into his tight jean pocket. It’s dim and dark in your secluded corner, and you find yourself squinting as you bring the small object closer. Too focused on your task to hear Tom’s noises of panic, you pull it up into the air. As the first dredges of realisation wash over you, you’ve got it half-open, and it’s too late to stop yourself.

There is a glistening engagement ring embedded inside the silky black box, glinting magnificently.

Your jaw drops.

A few moments pass in silence, the air between you being filled by the songs coming from the bar. Your thumb wanders absently over the edge of the jewel as you peer at it, heart throbbing in the back of your throat. Guilt twists into you, mixing with your excitement and your shock, and you look up at Tom, tears pooling in your eyes.

He’s looking at you, nerves written all over his face. His teeth are bared, and his eyes are wide with shock, every inch of him seized up and tense. When Tom sees your tearful expression, he blinks a few times, clearing his throat as he tenderly reaches up to cup your face in a hand.

“Darling…” he starts, voice softer than before. He drums his index finger over your temple as he manages a tense smile. “What’s going on up here?”

You open and shut your mouth a few times before finally finding the words.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, voice thick. “I…” You take a breath, looking away. Your mind starts to spin, suddenly kicking back to life as you recover yourself. “Wait… Why have you got this in your pocket? Did… Oh. Did you get this today?”

Everything makes sense. His nerves all week, his pacing this morning. The fact he’d left suspiciously early and met up with Harrison without you. Tom’s conflict when you’d pushed him out the door instead of letting him enter your house and stash the little black box before leaving for the party.

“Yeah,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. His chest is rising and falling quickly, his jaw still tense. “What do you think? Do… Do you like it?”

You nod wordlessly before looking up at him, lower lip wobbling. “I ruined it,” you lament. You fall forward, groaning as you rest your forehead on Tom’s shoulder. He chuckles, dusting the top of your head with light kisses as he hums.

“You didn’t,” he assures you. “I’m just a twat and didn’t hide it properly.” He falls silent for a few moments, warm hands wandering your back. “Y/N, darling… You… You would want to get married though, yeah?” His voice is light and high-pitched and full of so much uncertainty it makes you bolt upright.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. You balance the box between you and reach up to take his face in your hands, admiring his handsome features with your fingers. “I would love to marry you,” you whisper. You feel yourself well with emotions again, but you let them build. You don’t mind if he sees you vulnerable.

Tom releases a deep breath, his own face twitching as relief ripples across his eyes in the form of light tears. He leans closer and kisses you very gently, his mouth soft and tender as if he’s savouring it. When Tom pulls away, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, the tip of his nose cool against yours.

“I love you so much,” he says slowly. “Every day, I wake up beside you, and I wonder what I did right to deserve being loved by someone as wonderful as you. I hate being away from you, and I think about you all the time.” Tom cracks a soft smile, his voice quivering. With trembling fingers, he reaches between you both and picks the box from between you both.

You gasp softly as he pulls back, squeezing your hip softly before holding the box out in front of you. The diamonds sparkle, blurred by your tears.

“Y/N… I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and I know this is sudden, and I know you deserve a proposal a thousand times more romantic than… than at Harrison’s fucking party, but I can’t wait another moment.” He swallows as he pulls the ring from the bed of silk. Tom’s gaze is unwavering as he looks back to you, speaking passionately. “There’s nothing else I want in life apart from you. I promise that I will love you for the rest of my life, darling, if only you’ll let me. So…” Tom’s lips pull into a small smile. “Would you do me the honour of marrying me?”

The world stops, and everything fades until it’s just you and Tom and the ring held between you. Without hesitation, you nod your head, two stray tears dripping down your face.

“Tom… You could ask me to marry you anywhere, and I’d say the same thing.” Your heart pounds in your ears. “Yes. I would love to be your wife.”

Tom releases a strangled sound of relief, and you both look down as he hurries to push the ring down your finger. It’s cool against your skin, but before looking at it, you find yourself leaning in to kiss him. Both of you are smiling, and you think he’s crying too. His hand shakes as he holds yours, and when you pull away to admire the ring, Tom loops both arms around your waist.

“It’s so pretty,” you muse. You roll your thumb across the glittering gem. You feel so warm inside your chest. “Did you pick this out yourself?”

Tom makes a noise of disagreement. He cuddles in closer, burying his face in your neck and leaving a few soft kisses to your skin.

“Haz helped, and so did mum. Thought she’d have better ideas than him.” Tom pauses, and you feel him smirk against your neck. “I was right.”

Your heart softens a little at the revelation. “Do you think he’ll be upset that we’ve upstaged him at his party?”

Tom peels back from your neck, pressing his lips to your jaw as he chuckles. “Let’s...maybe not mention it tonight.”

You run your hand through his hair, eyes catching on the way the diamond cascades with shards of light. “Okay,” you agree. You lean closer to kiss the tip of his nose. “Are you sure you’re not mad I ruined this?”

Tom shakes his head. “Absolutely not, love. If anything, this just makes it more special.” He shoots you a toothy grin. “Don’t know what I’ll do with all the stuff I bought to use in the proposal, though.”

You smirk softly. “Well, who says you can’t do two proposals?” you say, intending for it to be a tease, only to widen your eyes when Tom’s entire face lights up. “Wait— babe, I was kidding, you don’t need to do another—”

“Shhh.” Tom cuts you off with a kiss. “Pretend that this conversation never happened.”

“What, even the proposal—”

“No.” He’s grinning, eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re marrying me.”

Your lips twitch as you give him a slight nod. “Yeah. And you’re marrying me.” Tom kisses you again, and you fall back into his lap with ease. For a few moments, you make out with him, the temperature in your body rising until you remember what started off the conversation, an eternity ago. “Can we go home now, Tom?”

He’s a little slow to respond as he chases your lips, but the smile you share feels like dawn breaking for the first time.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll take you home, fiancé.”

And you like the sound of that. You really like the sound of that.

“Okay, fiancé.”

Judging by the unstoppable grin that finds Tom’s face as he hears you speak, you have a feeling that he likes the sound of it too.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

:’))) im going to be rewriting/reworking a few of my older fics! if there are any in particular you’d like to see refreshed, lmk?

lmk what you thiiiiink !!! <3<3<3<3

masterlist + taglist through the link in my bio wahey :D

#have you guys ever burnt your tongue on tea? one of the worst experiences ever #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader fluff #boyfriend!tomfic #tom.sfw #fluff #i wrote the party scene whilst watching a stream last night and when i tell you it was A Mess . i fixed it tho #in a long term commitment mood 2day

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

hi hannah!! i was wondering if you could do a blurb of dad!tom of when he is doing his press interviews right now and his little one wants to be with him at all times, very clingy, and just wants to be close to him 🥺

deep in my dad!tom feels tonight :’) this was such a cute request too. i hope you like it joni!!! <3

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It’s just before 2am when Tom finds himself in his home office, stifling a yawn as he waits for his laptop to connect through to the Skype call. The latest round of press for his film has required him to join video calls with journalists from around the world, and whilst he appreciates that the flexibility means he can work from home, the time differences are killing him.

Tom really hadn’t wanted to crawl out of bed to do this interview. You’re still there, fast asleep, your arms curled around your two-year-old daughter, Rosie. All evening, you’d tried to encourage your daughter to peel away from Tom’s side and sleep in her own bed, but it’d been a losing battle. Ever since Tom came home a few weeks ago, Rosie has been glued to his side. She wears the same bright, innocent smile as him and has the charm to match it, and, really, who is Tom to deny his daughter from spending time with him? She’s his entire world.

“Tom! Great to see you. Sorry for the late call…”

Tom’s quick to switch on, and for the first few minutes of the interview, he manages to stay on track. The strong mug of tea on his desk helps to stave off the fatigue that so restlessly wants to unfurl throughout him. The journalist is asking decent questions, which always makes it easier.

After about ten minutes, the door to Tom’s office wobbles. Midway through a question, Tom spares it no thought, not paying attention at all until it swings open completely. He jumps, falling silent and feeling a cool sense of dread sweep across him as the door moves completely by itself. His house is new. It’s recently built. There’s no way that it’s haunted… Right?

“--Tom? Are you still there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Tom opens and closes his jaw, then very carefully and slowly stands from his office chair. When his eyes fall on the small, tottering figure of Rosie, he feels a warm blend of relief and embarrassment swirl through his chest.

“Rosie? What are you doing, darling?”

Tom sits back down, briefly saying a few words to the patient journalist before opening up his arms for his daughter. Rosie drags her feet across the floor, her bed of thick curls a mess and her deep brown eyes tired. She’s pouting, but when she sees Tom’s hands are open and waiting, her small lips quirk into a toothy smile.

“Daddy!” she exclaims, small voice a squeak. She throws herself into Tom’s lap, curling her tiny arms around his torso and burrowing her face into his chest as a deep chuckle leaves Tom’s lips. She’s warm and smells of laundry detergent, and Tom absently runs the tip of his index over her blue and red printed pyjamas. “Why you in here, daddy?”

Tom stills, his hand pausing on the back of her head as he stops playing with her hair and remembers he’s still connected to a journalist. An embarrassed smile finds his lips as he redirects his attention to the man.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, speaking lowly. “My daughter, she…” Tom breaks off, glancing down at Rosie. She’s peering up at him with curious eyes. “Well, I’ll put her back to bed, then I’ll come back. I’m--”

“No!” Rosie’s lower lip starts to wobble, and tears pool in her eyes. “Stay with you.”

Tom arches a brow, trying to fend off a tantrum with soft tones and gentle words. “Darling,” he starts, voice low, “I’m on a work call. It’s very important. I’ll be back in ten minutes, okay?”

His daughter shakes her head, reaching up and curling her fists around the front of his designer shirt. Tom sighs, briefly glancing up at the ceiling. He tries to think of a way to explain to his exhausted daughter that she needs to play nice and go back to sleep, but it’s difficult when she’s pouting up at him like that. Tom is completely gone for her, and everyone in his family knows it, Rosie included.

In the end, Tom’s decision gets made for him.

“Tom?” the journalist pipes up. “It’s fine. You can keep her in here for the rest of the interview if you want. I only have a few more questions to ask.”

Tom releases a breath, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looks at the screen. “Are you sure, dude? I can… I can take her out.”

“I’m already keeping you up at 2am, so it’s fine. Just call it evens.”

He thinks on it for a moment before nodding. Tom knows that if he takes Rosie back to bed, the only thing that’ll prevent her from padding back to his office is you. You’re six months pregnant, and Tom doesn’t want to disturb you.

“Rosie,” Tom murmurs. “The nice man said you can stay, but you’ll need to be quiet, okay?”

She nods her head quickly, smiling widely. “Okay.”

The interview continues, and Tom’s nerves are quick to fade. For a while, Rosie sits in his lap, nimble fingers playing with one of the toy trucks Tom keeps sitting on his desk, her mouth releasing small sounds of narration as she zooms the toy over the front of the desk. Tom’s relieved when she tires of that and curls into him, pushing her face back into his front and hanging on as her eyes shut.

Through the screen, Tom can see just how much of her figure is in the frame, but it doesn’t seem to be an issue. He answers the rest of his questions with his daughter cuddled up against him, one of his hands holding the back of her head as the other sits at the bottom of her spine. Every few minutes, he leaves an absent kiss to the top of her head, and each time she makes a noise in her sleep, his smile quirks wider.

“Thanks so much, Tom. This has been an honour,” the interviewer finishes.

Tom nods, speaking quieter as Rosie’s gentle snores fill the quiet space. “Thanks, man. Talk soon.”

The call disconnects a few moments later, and Tom reaches forward to close the lid of his laptop. With a sigh, he sits back in his office chair, weary eyes falling shut.

“Daddy?”

Tom cracks open an eye, grimacing when Rosie reaches up and tugs on his hair.

“Yes, darling?”

“Sleep now?”

He nods, a tired smile on his face.

“‘Course, love.” Tom dips down and kisses the top of her head, his heart clenching in his chest as she makes a sound of agreement. “Bedtime.”

#can't stop thinking abt him + his fake daughter...help :')#tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader blurb #dad!tom #dad!tom holland #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader fluff #dad!tomfic #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.sfw #spideybrie

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

thought of a concept last night that had me up in the middle of the night so I said lemme send it to you. LMAO. Putting the self timer on for a social media app to take a video of yourself, and Tom unknowingly crashing in to have a needy little makeout session with you. and then grabbing your phone like guess I won’t post that and he’d laugh bc he didn’t realize but then want to watch it and be like don’t post it but save it, it’s hot. 😌🥲🙃😏😪😩🥴🥵

loooove this! sorry it took me so long to write <3 cw: a steamy makeout sesh + suggestive language.

✧———clearing out my askbox!———✧

Your phone is propped up against the bathroom mirror, the front-facing camera capturing your form as you do a short spin. You’d been sent a few pieces of clothing by a fashion company, and you’re halfway through taking a few videos to upload later to your Instagram story. Music plays from your phone as you work the camera, trying to get in all the best angles as you twirl around the echoey expanse of the bathroom.

“Darling! Where are you?”

You falter as you hear Tom’s voice, gradually growing louder as he enters your bedroom. You try to ignore him, not wanting to disrupt the flow of your video, but a moment later, the door to the ensuite opens and your boyfriend walks in.

Tom pauses in the doorway, and you glance over to look at him. The slightly disgruntled expression on your face at being interrupted melts away as you take your boyfriend in: eyes wide, face pulled into an expression of desire, teeth nipping at his lower lip. He’d been at the gym, and his exercise is evident in his curls, loose and damp from the shower, and the healthy flush rounding out his cheeks.

“Fuck, love,” he growls. Tom stalks towards you, eyes darkening as he takes in your outfit. “You look stunning.”

His hands catch at your waist as he walks you back, your body brushing up against the countertop as you wind your arms around his neck. Tom pushes you up onto the counter and you find your legs parting to let him in closer, your mind going fuzzy as you inhale his deep scent.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Tom presses his forehead to yours, nose nudging up against yours. “C’mere,” he murmurs, then follows his words with his lips.

You moan as he kisses you, mouth needy and hot. Tom doesn’t tease you—he jumps straight in, his tongue slipping into your open mouth without hesitation. His lips, warm and bruising, envelope yours, coming down over your mouth again and again as he groans quietly against you. At your sides, his hands are roaming freely across your body, grabbing at your hips, your back, your ass, pulling you closer with rough movements that make you gasp.

He deepens it without encouragement, your mouth starting to ache in the most delicious ways as he pursues your lips with fervour. He’s like a man possessed, jumped up on endorphins from his time in the gym and only able to lessen them by channelling his frustrations into you. You don’t mind it—you enjoy the passion that flows between you, revel in the sensations of him pulling back to nibble on your lower lip. When you whimper, Tom chases you again, following the noise with his tongue entering your mouth.

It’s hot—he’s so desperate, pressing you further against the counter, grabbing at you, worshipping each part of your form with his eager hands and his teasing lips.

When he pulls away to breathe, Tom’s mouth falls into the crook of your neck. Gasping softly for breath, you let your hands fall slack in his curls, nimble fingers delicately twirling around some of his strands as he pants against your skin.

“I love kissing you,” he admits, words vibrating against your neck.

You sigh in agreement, but before you can respond, you hear your phone vibrate behind you and remember about its presence. Twisting back, you pick up the device and end the recording, swiping away the notification from one of your friends as you smile. The video starts to play, and you skip through until Tom opens the bathroom door, giggling slightly as you realise the angle of your phone captured the entire makeout session.

“Tom,” you murmur, gently coaxing him away from your neck. You sling one of your arms around his back and Tom leans against your front, resting his head on your shoulder as he squints at the phone screen. He laughs as he watches himself pushing you up onto the counter, the sound dying into a noise of intrigue as the video continues to play and you both watch yourselves kissing. “I guess I won’t be posting that one.”

Tom hums, and when you glance down at his face, you see his cheeks a darker red. He pulls you even closer, grunting softly as he kisses your neck again.

“Send me that,” he begs. “That’s hot.”

You roll your eyes as you do as he asked, then run your hands through his hair. “Such a narcissist,” you tease, earning a pout.

“No,” he whines. Tom stands straighter and settles between your legs, running his warm palms over your thighs. His teeth glint as his greedy eyes take you in, appreciation tainting his features. “I just enjoy admiring my stunning, beautiful girlfriend. Is there something wrong with that, love?”

A chuckle escapes you. “No, ‘course not.”

Tom smirks softly. “Good,” he coos. He digs his fingers further into your waist before leaning closer, leaving a light kiss to your cheek before dragging his hot lips back to your ear. “Maybe we should film ourselves doing other things too,” he suggests, rasping darkly into your ear.

“Mm?”

His tongue teases the sweet spot of your neck, causing you to whimper. “Fuck yeah, darling.”

“What would you want to film?”

Tom’s eyes glint darkly as he pulls back to look at you, lips pulling into a smirk. He squeezes your waist before reaching down and taking your hands.

“C’mon,” he coaxes, pulling you from the counter. He kisses you softly, letting his lips linger against yours as he adds, “I’ll show you.”

#wc: 900 #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland x reader fluff #myblurbs #tom.sfw #q

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

imagine prof!tom picking up drunk reader from a frat party and taking care of her...swoon

i think drunk pickup from a party might be one of my favourite tropes :’) thank u <3

prof!tom fever night

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The front lawn of the frat house is full of discarded solo cups, and as you sit in the grass, the blades are cool against your legs. You play around with the strands, pulling a few out with blurry fingers as you laugh softly to yourself. Time passes by quickly, interrupted only by a large shadow falling over your figure. You squint as you look up, tilting your head to the side as your tired eyes take in the person.

“Darling.” It’s Professor Holland—Tom, your boyfriend—, drowning in a hoodie. It’s a light lilac colour and he’s paired it with some grey jeans. He’s wearing an amused smile as he raises a hand in greeting. “Why are you sitting out here?”

You accept his hands, glad for his steady grip as you go stumbling to your feet. You’re very drunk. The frat party had been amazing for the first few hours, but as soon as the clock passed 3am, you’d started to flag. Now you’re tired, delirious, and ready for bed.

“Too hot in there,” you reason, winding your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. His features float in front of your eyes, his gaze kind and full of amusement. “It’s cold out here.”

“That’s most definitely true.” Tom reaches up and cups both of your cheeks, frowning when you sigh contentedly and nuzzle into his warm palms. “You’re freezing, Y/N,” he scolds, eyebrows furrowing. “You need to take care of yourself.”

“I did,” you complain, pouting. “You said to call you if I needed anything. So I did.”

Tom coos, then leans forward to softly kiss you. His lips linger there for only a second, but it’s enough to warm you up from the inside out.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. A moment passes then he squeezes your cheeks and steps back, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking with you down the long path. “I’ll take you home.”

“To yours?” you ask, fluttering your lashes despite knowing he’s looking at the path and not at you.

“If you want, darling.”

“Yeah.” You giggle softly and reach up to mess with his curls. You accidentally knock his hood from his head, and Tom rolls his eyes as he quickly pulls it back off. “No,” you whine. “Keep it down, I wanna see your hair.”

He squeezes your waist. “I’m flying under the radar tonight, sweetheart,” he reminds you, voice low. “Wouldn’t exactly be the best look to be seen picking up one of my drunk students from a frat party, would it?”

You giggle as you totter down the street, recognising his car. “But that’s what you’re doing?”

Tom kisses your hand before opening the passenger’s side for you and helping you in. “Yeah,” he agrees. “But you’re not just any student, are you?”

You wait until he’s walked around the car and buckled into the driver’s side to respond. “Aren’t I?”

He rolls his eyes and leans across the console to kiss your forehead. “No,” he stresses, eyes dancing. “I love you. You know that.”

You smirk as you cross your arms over your chest, blearily happily. “Love you too, Tom,” you reply.

Tom takes you back to his. You try to stay on your best behaviour, but you’re still very drunk, and when you’re drunk, you’re annoying. He’s patient with you, but it brings you great amusement to watch his jaw tense from irritation as he sits you up on the bathroom counter and tries to wipe your makeup off, only for you to dodge out of the way each time.

“Stay still,” he mumbles, frowning. Finally, Tom manages to hold your chin, grasping gently as he dabs at your cheeks with a wet cotton pad. “There you go.”

You pout your lips at him. “Kiss?” you ask, smiling widely.

He sighs, then leans closer. “If I kiss you, will you stay still?”

You nod your head immediately. “Yeah,” you reply. “Promise.”

Tom quickly learns that the easiest way to get you ready for bed is by punctuating every movement with a kiss, and once he makes a routine of pressing his warm mouth to yours every few seconds, you’re a lot more compliant. Eventually, he’s convinced you to down a pint of water, change into one of his old oversized hoodies and move over to bed, your lips connected as you pull him down with you.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, easily and effectively pushing you back onto your side of the bed. He rolls over, briefly sitting up as he throws off his t-shirt and struggles from his jeans. “Time to sleep.” As soon as he’s back beside you, he wraps you in his arms and you snuggle into his chest.

Masked by darkness, a sudden, tipsy thought strikes you. “Wait… What were you doing when I called you?”

“Sleeping.”

Your eyes snap up, and you fail to find him in the darkness. Tom reaches up, warm palm cupping the back of your head until you’re soothed.

“Sorry,” you murmur, feeling a little guilty. “This was probably really annoying.”

His lips grace your forehead. “It wasn’t,” he promises. “I’d come out and get you any time of day, darling. I care about you.”

A happy sigh falls past your lips, and your eyes droop shut. “Thanks, Tom,” you murmur. “Love you.”

He kisses the top of your head again. “‘Course, darling. I’m going to the gym at 6, do you want me to wake you up before I go?”

You growl into his chest, only stopping when you hear him laughing. “Do you even love me?” you lament. “What kind of question is that?”

He squeezes your waist. “I love you,” Tom says, voice softer than a lullaby. “Get some sleep.”

Tom tugs you closer, and despite being able to feel the hangover ache building in your temples, you fall asleep with a smile on your face, his arms wrapped around you, and his lips coming over your forehead every few minutes.

#let's pretend my prof!tom is in america for one blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland blurb #professor!tom fluff #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.sfw #prof!tomfic #prof!tomblurbs #q #geminiparkers

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

Ooo can I request some profesor Tom where he has some marks on him from a night you guys had and a student sees one the next day during class and points it out as a joke and all the female are heartbroken and jealous finding out he’s taken

cute :’)

prof!tom fever night

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It’s a slow Wednesday morning, shards of golden light fluttering into the classroom through the wide windows. Professor Holland is sitting behind his desk, chin resting on two slender fingers as he scrolls through some files on his laptop. Behind him, the whiteboard shifts through slides as he searches for a video clip to show the class. You’re hardly paying attention, too focused on your doodling on your notebook to watch him change about the slides.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him stretching, a gentle yawn leaving his mouth as he grunts. The girl beside you shifts in her seat, gasping softly as Tom crosses his arms over his chest.

“God,” she mutters, and you realise she’s whispering to you. “He’s so hot.”

You smirk to yourself, glancing up to Tom and briefly admiring his figure. You’d been pressed beneath his chest a mere two hours ago after waking up in his bed.

“Yeah,” you agree. “It’s distracting.”

She makes a noise of agreement, and you look back to your paper, doodling in the margins. From the corner of your eye, you see some movement, not really paying attention until the girl gasps again and elbows you hard in the side. You frown, getting ready to glare at her, only to freeze when you hear her speak.

“He’s taking off the turtleneck,” she describes.

Immediately you look up, biting back a groan as Tom rolls up his jumper and sheds it, tossing it on top of his desk with no regard for what lies beneath it. You’d suggested he’d wear it this morning after seeing the plethora of dark hickeys you’d left sucked to his skin, and he’d agreed after much complaining. Now, mindlessly distracted, he’s pulled off the only layer of disguise, leaving your lovebites loud and proud, stark against his pale neck. If it wouldn’t be too obvious, you’d face palm.

“Oi oi, sir,” one of the rowdier boys calls out. “Got lucky last night?”

Tom glances up, brows furrowing. He looks first to the boy, then briefly at you, holding his tongue between his teeth before you discreetly point at your own neck. You stifle a chuckle as Tom’s eyes widen, his hand drifting absently up to the marked skin as he shuffles around in his seat.

“Uh… Enough of that,” Tom responds, trying to reign in control over the classroom that only seems to rise in volume. “Settle down.” He’s blushing, cheeks dark and his eyes full of embarrassment, but he doesn’t put the jumper back on. If anything, he sits a little straighter, flaunting off your hickeys as you try not to smile too widely.

“Oh my god,” the girl beside you whispers. You glance at her, noting her heartbroken expression. “I can’t believe he has someone.”

You chuckle, looking back to your hands. “Lucky girl, eh?”

She hums sadly. “Yeah,” she mutters dejectedly. “Very lucky.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader blurb #professor!tom holland #professor!tom #prof!tomfic #tom.sfw #myblurbs #tomblurbs #q

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

ok imagine that you are always seeking tom out for cuddles when you're cold (even when he's in meetings), but then finding out that he keeps the mansion at a cold temperature on purpose just so that you always have an excuse to cuddle him alwaysssss im softtttt

this is such a cute idea I think my heart exploded when I wrote it :’)

—soft!mob!tom monday—

It’s perplexing, really. Given Tom’s wealth and his riches, you’ve never been able to figure out why his house is always so chilly.

You’re sure it never used to be like this. When you’d moved in over winter, it’d been warm - the mansion running warm due to a very complex heating system. Granted, even that had never been enough to keep you completely happy. Over January and February, you’d frequently found yourself trailing the corridors, searching for your boyfriend and his warm, warm arms. You’d made a bit of a habit of it even - somehow always ending up in his lap in the office, or sprawled across him in the study, clinging to his heat. Once spring had rolled around, you’d thought your case of the chills would stop, but no.

If anything, the mansion only feels colder now that it’s late spring. You’ve asked Tom about it before, only to be met with a suspicious level of reassurance from your boyfriend, who seems to flush every time you mention the heating situation. You’d learnt to drop it and deal with it, realising that it’s just one of those things that don’t quite make sense, and besides - there are far worse things to complain about than the temperature of your boyfriend’s mansion.

But you’re cold. It’s 4pm, and you are so cold, and there’s only one thing you can do to help the situation. Forget jumpers and extra layers - the only thing that ever manages to bring the warmth back to you is the feeling of Tom’s arms wrapped around you, so you set off on a mission, walking from the library in the general direction of his office.

Rocking back on your heels, you knock on the door, pulling the sleeves of your jumper down and holding them in the palms of your hands, your teeth almost chattering. After a moment, you hear the sound of Tom’s voice, drifting through the door as he calls out, “Come in!”

You slip into the room, raising a hand in greeting. “Hi,” you say, glancing around the office. Tom’s not alone - there are three other men settled in the chairs in front of his desk. Two of them you don’t recognise, but the third is Harrison, Tom’s best mate, and he smiles at you.

“Hi, darling,” Tom says. He pushes back from his desk, tossing down his pen as he stands up. His inquisitive eyes take you in, zeroing in on the way you’re rubbing at your arms, drowning in an oversized hoodie. “Are you cold again?” He asks, lips quirking into a soft smile.

You nod as you step forward, sinking into his hold easily. Immediately you sigh, your cheek pressing against the crisp white shirt that covers Tom’s chest. He runs hot, constantly, and whilst that can prove troublesome when it’s a warm evening, right now, there’s nothing you enjoy more than his body heat.

“Thanks,” you murmur. You bite your lip, remembering about the other people in the room, and reluctantly you pull away. Tom’s hands slip down to your waist, and he looks at you, eyes softly caressing the curves of your face. “I should let you-”

“Nonsense.” Tom pecks your cheek before taking your hand and leading you back over to the desk. As you’ve done a thousand times before, he slips into his seat and pulls you down with him. You settle in his lap, looping one arm around his neck, settling sideways over him as your other hand reaches out for his desk and picks up your book - your favourite book, which you keep in his office, for occasions such as these. “Comfy?” He asks.

You hum, enjoying the feeling of his hand holding your back and the warmth of his shoulder against your cheek. “Yeah,” you reply, biting your lip as you look up at him gratefully. “Thanks, baby.”

“Any time.”

Tom gets back to his discussion with his men, and you enjoy stealing his body heat as you rest in his lap, flicking through the pages of your book with ease. It’s relaxing, listening to the background hum of his voice, feeling the vibrations that shoot out from his chest as he speaks. Whenever the volume gets a little too high, you feel his eyes flicker over you, and then he corrects himself, lowering his voice and rolling a hand over your back in smooth apology. You’re like a well-oiled machine, so familiar with these late-afternoon snuggle sessions that they’re second-nature.

After about half an hour, the meeting seems to conclude, and the two men leave the room. When only Harrison remains, you bookmark your page and sit up a little straighter, looking over at your friend as he stares at you and Tom, an amused expression on his face.

“You’re both very funny,” Harrison says, standing slowly from the chair.

Tom wraps both of his arms around your middle, pulling you nearer protectively as he kisses your temple several times in quick succession.

“What do you mean?” You ask, amused. One of your hands shifts to rest in Tom’s hair, toying gently with his soft brown strands.

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Every day you end up doing this,” he says.

“Because it’s always so bloody cold in this house,” you reply.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Harrison replies cryptically.

You furrow your eyebrows, sitting straighter. “What?” You say, looking around at Tom. When you see the sheepish look on his face, you furrow your eyebrows. “Tom, what is he talking about?”

“Harrison!” Tom grunts, a flash of irritation passing through his eyes when he looks at his right-hand man.

Harrison winces, throwing both of his hands in the air before rapidly walking to the door. “Bye,” he says, scurrying out before another word can be said.

You turn on Tom, pushing up from his lap and repositioning yourself so you’re straddling him, a leg hanging either side of his thighs.

“Tom?” You say, looking at him curiously. You cup his cheeks in your hands, smoothing a thumb through his ruffled eyebrow as you stare him down, a soft smirk on your face. “What’s Harrison talking about?”

Tom sags, biting his lower lip. His cheeks tickle pink, and he looks away as he mutters something incomprehensible.

“What was that?” You ask, grinning. It isn’t often you see him so bashful, so shy. Tom’s tender with you, always, but you’ve never seen his facade drop so low in his office like this. You coax him around, kissing him softly and slipping your hands back to his hair as you press your forehead to his. “What’s going on?”

Tom sighs.

“I might’ve got them to set the thermostat really low,” he mutters, “Because I like it when you come in and interrupt my meetings so we can cuddle.”

You just about melt, right there and then.

“Aww,” you coo, pouting softly. You run your hands through his hair, lifting your lips to kiss his forehead. “Mr Tough Guy likes his cuddles.”

Tom scowls, squeezing your hips. “I like your cuddles,” he counters, before bringing your lips together in a warm kiss. “You’re making me soft,” he whispers against your mouth.

You smile, pressing your nose to his. “Do you mind?”

Tom shakes his head. “Not at all.”

#everyone say thanks chloe for planting this idea in my head :)))#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x y/n #mob!tom holland #mob!tomfic #mob!tomblurbs #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.sfw #geminiparkers

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

frat!tom inviting you to one of their ragers and all of his brothers trying to be a wingman for him bc they all know he’s had his eye on you the whole semester 😂 bc your friends would be like since when did you become friends with all these frat bros and you’re like idk what’s going on rn you’d be so confused lmao.

god this is such a cute idea...my heart. cw: alcohol + fluff.

finishing up some frat!tom blurbs !!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The first time it happens, you find it funny. The second, you feel a little uncertain but laugh it off. But the third time you’re approached by one of the fratboys hosting the party and offered a round of the house’s finest drinks, you can’t deny your complete bemusement.

“Since when did you become friends with so many frat bros?” Your friend, Val, whispers, clinging to your arm as one of the men, a shorter lad called Harry, dishes out shots to you and all of your friends. You accept one with a smile before dropping your voice.

“I didn’t,” you mutter. “I don’t understand what’s going on right now.”

You’ve barely done your shot when there’s a presence beside you.

“Y/N! Pleased you could make it.” You turn to see Harrison there, the vice-president of the frat. He’s in a SnapBack and a black T-shirt, smirking widely. “Do you and your friends want to come and play beer pong with us?”

You exchange a glance with Val, who giggles.

“Why not,” you agree.

You’re swept over to the large patio with a few of your friends, and you barely have time to process what’s happening before Harrison is claiming you as his partner and pulling you around to his side of the table. Val stands at the other end, and you watch, confused, as she asks one of the fratboys to partner with her, only for him to agree, look across the table and see you, then immediately shake his head and announce,

“Wait— no, I can’t. Stay here. One second.”

He runs away and Val raises a brow, but before you can speak to her, Harrison is poking at your arm.

“So,” he says, smirking softly. “How are you finding the party, Y/N? Anyone catch your eye?”

You furrow your brows, crossing your arms over your chest as you eye him carefully. You’ve not spent much time with Harrison before. Yes, you’ve been to a few parties together and played some games of truth or dare, but you’ve not developed such a deep connection that would warrant such attention. You find it suspicious.

“It’s a good party,” you agree, “though, I don’t think you guys have ever hosted a bad one.”

Harrison nods, pride reflecting in his eyes. “Well, thanks.” He digs his hands into his pockets. “It’s all Tom. He does all the planning and organising. He’s a great guy.” Harrison nudges you gently. “A really great guy.”

You start to wonder if the reason for your sudden catapult to centre of attention is more straightforward than you’d first thought.

“—Ahh, there he is, actually. What good timing.”

You look across the table, your breath hitching as your eyes fall upon the figure of Tom Holland, president of the frat, and your study partner from english lit. He looks good, wrapped up in a blue flannel and a black t-shirt, with a dark cap resting on his curls. His eyes seek yours out immediately and you raise a hand in greeting, feeling your lips twitch into a soft smile as he walks towards you.

“Y/N, darling!” Tom exclaims, greeting you with a hand on your hip and his lips on your cheek. “You look stunning tonight.” His fingers linger on your waist for a moment before he steps away, and his proximity grants you a deep whiff of his cologne.

“Thank you,” you reply, smiling shyly. “You look good too.”

“Thanks, love.” The tips of his teeth flint white as Tom beams at you. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come tonight. I’m glad you did.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Of course I would,” you say. You’d been overjoyed when he’d extended the invite to you, personally, and invited you and your friends to the biggest rager on campus. “I wanted to see you.”

It’s unclear if he’s blushing, or simply too warm, but you watch as Tom scratches the back of his neck and smiles almost shyly.

“I’m glad.” He clears his throat and his eyes flutter across the table, to where Harrison’s drifted around to stand beside Val. He nudges your arm, his elbow gentle. “Are you ready to win this?”

“Oh hell yeah. I was born ready.”

“That’s my girl.”

You feel your lips pull up, and try not to let him see the thrill that curls down your spine as you hear him speaking so affectionately to you.

The game goes by slowly, and you find yourself wondering how Harrison, usually so irritatingly good at beer pong, misses even the easiest of shots. If you didn’t know any better, you might be tempted to think he was trying to throw the game, yet Tom keeps you too busy to extensively ponder this thought. When you’re not on the receiving end of his smooth praises, you’re both listening to some of the fratbros who linger near, passing off compliment after compliment in Tom’s direction. They hype up almost every part of his person, pointing out, eagerly, and despite Tom’s obvious embarrassment, how good his grades have been, how he’s been learning to cook, how he’s a beast in the gym… Any positive to Tom that could be praised, is, and it leaves you smiling.

Much to your amusement, you end up winning the game. Once you’re suitably buzzed, you wave bye to Val and follow Tom back inside, his hand clinging to yours. You watch, amused, as the crowd seems to part for you, multiple pairs of eyes following you and the way your fingers are linked with Tom’s. Whispers follow you, and you find yourself clinging closer to him, curling your arm around his as you shy into his side.

Tom takes you upstairs. He’d pulled you from the patio whispering about a book he’d borrowed from you a month ago and needed to return, but you know that his intentions go beyond the return of a simple favour.

“This is a nice room,” you say. It’s large, and on the top floor of the frat. It’s also the room that comes without a suite mate, courtesy of Tom’s status as president. There’s a large window set into the wall, a nice double bed, and even an en-suite.

You feel his hand briefly touch you back as Tom moves past you and walks over to his desk. You watch him rummage through a pile of papers and pens, his watch glinting.

“Thank you,” he responds, looking back over his shoulder at you. His thin lips quirk into a smile as he inclines his head towards his bed. “You can sit down if you want.”

You hum as you walk towards the bed, perching on the edge of the mattress with your legs crossed. After a few moments more, Tom releases a noise of triumph and holds up the borrowed book.

“Here you go,” he says, walking over to you. He passes you the book, and you promptly put it down beside you. “Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

“Of course,” you respond. You meet his eyes, getting momentarily lost in his caramel depths. “Hey, could I ask you a question?”

Tom nods, crossing his hands behind his back as he looks at you curiously. “Anything.”

You bite your lip before extending your hand towards him. When he takes it and easily loops your fingers together, you smile.

“Did you have all your frat brothers wingman you tonight?”

Tom hesitates, a hint of embarrassment curling over his face.

“You, uh, noticed that?” He asks, scratching at his neck.

You nod, smirking. “If the never ending supply of shots and compliments weren’t indication enough, Harrison also threw the game so we would win.”

Tom curses softly. “He’s such a twat,” he mutters. “But uh… Yeah, I guess. I just wanted you to have a good time tonight, Y/N. Some of them just took it a bit too far. I’m sorry if they made you feel uncomfortable.”

“They didn’t. I thought it was cute.” You hesitate, your eyes shifting over his face. “I think you’re cute.”

Tom shifts on his feet, seeming to stretch a little straighter as he smirks.

“And I think you’re absolutely gorgeous.” Using the hand intertwined with yours, Tom very gently helps you to your feet. His fingers slip down to your waist, where they rest, touch firm and warm. You like the feeling of being so close to him.

“So… What are you going to do about that?”

You bite your lip as his breath hitches, and then you let him pull you closer. His voice is lower, huskier, and it comes out lightly as his warm breath fans out across your face.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he declares.

You give him the slightest nod before looping your arms around his neck, and then very slowly, and easily, Tom presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first—carrying more care than you would’ve expected—but your eyes flutter shut as you enjoy the moment. It builds quickly, spiralling from a tender union of mouths to an intensely hot kiss, burning bright with passion as you feel him nibbling your lower lip. You part your lips, and your fingers dig into his curls as your tongues dance together, the kiss growing hotter and heavier as you curl in closer.

When you break away after a few moments of passionate kissing, you’re breathless but happy. You rest your palms on the flat of his shoulders and sigh contentedly, lips stinging softly.

“Next time you want to get closer to me, you can just ask me, y’know,” you tease. “I quite like spending time with you, Tom.”

His lips brush your cheek, and you feel him squeeze your waist.

“Noted, love.” He pauses for a moment, smirk biting at his lips. “Care to spend some time with me now, darling?”

You wrap your fingers around the top of his shirt and pull him closer, letting your lips brush over his as you smile.

“I think I’d like that very much.”

#this makes me soft :')#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland blurbs #frat!tomfic #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.sfw #queue!#thinking abt my emotional support fratboy :')

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

Y/n has a disagreement with frat!tom, she drowns her sorrows and then frat!tom takes care of drunk y/n

ah...a classic. cw: alcohol + angst w a happy end. pls don’t do this irl--communication is key in any balanced relationship! don’t drown your sorrows <3

frat!tom night !!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom: I’m sorry Tom: I didn’t mean to upset you Tom: can you just text me back Tom: please

You drag your index finger over the lock-screen of your phone, giggling slightly as you watch Tom’s texts wobble. Your eyes are tired and unfocused, your head spinning, and your objective of getting absolutely hammered has been well and truly achieved. You’d surpassed your limits an hour ago, if you’re being honest with yourself, but your bottle of tequila had been calling your name, and now you’re out of your mind. You’re just glad that your roommate is at her boyfriend’s for the night so she doesn’t have to witness your heartbroken breakdown.

Another two texts bumps up to the top of the screen, startling you.

Tom: I’m worried about you Tom: can you just let me know that you’re okay?

You sigh loudly, then begrudgingly pick up your phone. You open the texts sent from Tom, your boyfriend — or, ex-boyfriend…? — and read over them again, eyes hazy. You decide not to reply, and to instead leave him on read, because what else are you supposed to do?

With a heavy sigh, you lie back on the floor and stare at the ceiling of your dorm. You groan as you think over the events of the day again, your mind heavy and lethargic.

It’d been a stupid argument with Tom, about god knows what. Spring break, you think. He’d changed his mind last minute, and instead of going to Mexico with you and a few friends, he now wants to go back to London to spend time with his family. He also wants you to go back with him, to meet his parents and his brothers, and, in typical Tom fashion, had failed to mention that he’d changed your flights on your behalf.

It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is you’d spent a very unpleasant thirty minutes at the frat house earlier, exchanging sour words of disapproval with your boyfriend, who couldn’t be bothered to hear your side of the story. You’d ran away when you’d realised you were just going in circles, and now you’re here: red-eyed, drunk, and alone. The realisation makes you hiccup, and you feel your eyes well up again.

There’s a loud knock at the door, and you startle.

“Fuck,” you mutter, quickly standing up. You toss the bottle of alcohol under a blanket and wipe at your eyes, cursing yourself for looking like such a mess. You hope it’s just a neighbour, concerned about the breakup song playlists and the loud volume of your crying, and not an RA about to bust you for possession of alcohol in a college dorm.

It turns out to be neither, and you scowl as you open the door just to see Tom standing beyond it. His eyes snap up, his expression springing into one of surprise as if he hadn’t expected you to open the door. There’s a light blue beanie sitting on his head, but he whips it off and holds it between his hands as he rocks back on his feet and swallows

“Y/N…. Look, I’m so sorry.” He looks so small, with his figure covered in grey sweats and a white t-shirt. He has a red jacket shrugged over the top too, but his posture is slumped and diminished. His eyes are pink. “I was such a twat. I don’t want us to break up over this, and I don’t want you to hate me, either. I’m sorry.” His gaze narrows as his eyes twist over your figure. “Wait, are you drunk?”

Your eyes bulge, and you instinctively reach out to grab his arm. You jerk him into your room, chastising him in a loud whisper about the presence of your pesky RAs, and then you lean back against the door, facing the main body of the room where Tom’s now pacing.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you manage, tongue feeling thick in your mouth.

Tom finds the bottle of tequila you’d thrown in your bed as he straightens up the duvet, turning on you with a frown on your face.

“You shouldn’t be drinking on a Tuesday night,” he mutters. “Is this my fault?”

You shrug. “No,” you say. “Pretty sure I’m the one who did the drinking.”

Tom winces, then slowly takes off his jacket. He approaches you gently, extending two hands towards you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice exhausted. You hate how heartbroken he looks, so you reach out and join together your fingers, pulling him a little closer. Tom walks all the way to you, folding into you until he’s squeezing your hands and has his forehead pressed against yours. “I’m sorry for being a dick, and not speaking to you about spring break first.” His thumbs run over the backs of your hands. “And I’m also sorry for being a twat and not listening to you properly.”

You have to close your eyes, finding it too hard to focus on his face when it’s pushed so near to you.

“I’m too drunk to have this conversation with you,” you mutter. You drop one of his hands and feel him freeze before you shift it up to his hair. You’re quiet as you play around with his brown curls, finding comfort in the familiar softness. “I’m sorry too, though. I feel like shit. I shouldn’t have been so angry about it all…” You break off, feeling your eyes water as your voice thickens. It’s just a whisper as you add, softer, “I don’t want to lose you over this, Tom.”

He pulls back, and you’re able to meet his eyes as he reaches up to cup your warm cheeks in his hands. You aren’t angry anymore—now that he’s here, looking at you so softly, you just want to move on and fall straight back into his arms.

“You’re not losing me, darling. You could never lose me,” he murmurs. He leans in and kisses your forehead softly, letting his lips linger there for a moment. “Let’s get you in bed, yeah?”

You nod. “Okay,” you agree, suddenly feeling very attached to the idea of curling up beneath the covers and sleeping.

“Wait, wait.” Tom’s gentle hold on your waist makes you stop. “Bathroom first. You’ve still got makeup on.”

You pout as you coo, nodding. “Can you take it off for me?”

“Of course, love.”

You’re glad for the en-suite in your room. Despite it being a tight fit, Tom’s able to come in with you. He sits you on the closed toilet seat and tenderly dabs at your face, stripping back the smudged makeup as he cracks a few light jokes and murmurs soft words of praise. He watches as you brush your teeth, standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your front, lips brushing over your neck in featherlight kisses as he meets your eyes in the mirror and your heart flutters in your chest. Despite your complaints, he even convinces you to down two glasses of water.

“Aren’t you getting in too?” You whine. He’s standing beside your single bed, hands on the top of the duvet as he finishes tucking you in. You do your best to look innocent and fragile, blinking up at him through wide eyes. “It’s cold…”

Tom hesitates.

“Do you want me to?” He asks. When you nod your head enthusiastically, he smiles softly. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning and realise that it’s not what you wanted.”

You shake your head. “I won’t,” you say, knowing it to be true. “Just… if you’re worried about overstepping, don’t kiss me or anything. I won’t be mad if you sleep here.”

He smiles as if he finds the compromise agreeable, then kicks off his shoes and pulls off his shirt. You try to wolf whistle, only for the sound to come out flat and failed, and he laughs loudly.

“Did you just try to whistle at me?” He teases.

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“Maybe.”

Tom slips into bed beside you. It’s a tight fit, but you’ve spent enough nights together on your single mattress to know exactly what you have to do. You don’t hesitate to curl into his side, throwing a leg over his body as you rest your face against his arm and press your hand to his chest. Tom reaches over and flicks off the lamp before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close.

“I love you,” he says, the moment it’s dark and you’re both settled. “I love you so much, baby.”

You coo, unable to control the unruly smile that tugs at your lips.

“Love you too, Tom,” you murmur. “You’re so warm.”

He chuckles, light fingers rubbing circles over the top of your arm. “And you’re just lovely.”

You melt, burrowing your head further into his side. Beneath your palm, you can feel his heartbeat, pulsing gently.

“You know, the only reason I was so mad earlier was because I was scared of meeting your parents,” you admit, voice soft. “It’s not because I don’t want to spend time with you, Tommy. I do. All the time. But it’s scary to think about how I could do something to fuck this up. It’s scary sometimes... to think about how much I love you.”

You feel his lips touch the top of your head.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m scared too. That’s why I changed the flights without speaking to you. I was scared you wouldn’t want to come with me and take the next step with me.” Tom breaks off, sighing. “I’m a fucking idiot, though. Still should’ve spoken to you about it.”

You hum gently. “As long as you look after me, and make sure I’m okay, then I’d love to come and meet your family.” You tilt your face up and lean closer until you’re able to deposit a clumsy kiss to his sharp jaw.

“Of course I’d look after you,” Tom assures. “But you don’t need to be scared. They’ll love you, because I love you, and I think you’re the most wonderful person in the world, Y/N.”

You curl in closer, stifling a yawn. “Love you too.”

“Precious,” he mumbles. You feel him urge you nearer, warm kisses falling over your head again and again. “Go to sleep, babe,” he urges. “I’ve got you.”

You sigh contentedly. “Will you still be here in the morning?” You whisper, relaxing fully into his hold.

“‘Course. I’ll even get you breakfast.”

You smile against his chest. “Fuck yeah,” you murmur. “G’night.”

“Night, princess.” Tom rests a hand on your arm, and you sink into it. “Sweet dreams.”

#this is almost 1.8k....can i even call it a blurb at this point fdkjhfdkj #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #myblurbs #tomblurbs #frat!tomfic #tom.sfw #queue

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

idk if this one has been done yet, but what about getting in a fight with mob!tom and he says something that really upsets her but tries his best to make up for it because he knows he fucked up?

getting angsty on this monday, I like it! I had fun with this. I went less tom trying to make up for it and more him undergoing the biggest grovel session of his life lmao. lowkey got a bit emotional writing it fhjdhf. enjoy !! cw: angst (w a happy end)

– it’s mob monday !! –

The argument builds quickly, escalating from a minor spat to an all-out explosion in the blink of an eye. What had started out as a small grievance about Tom’s inability to make time for you had snowballed, and now you’re standing opposite him, angry tears glistening in your eyes.

“You’re being unreasonable!” You exclaim, voice coming out hard. The palms of your hands hurt from the clenching of your fingers, small crescent-moon shapes from your nails pressed into your skin. “Why won’t you just listen to me?”

Tom’s face is a deep shade of volatile red, his hair unruly and untamed from the number of times he’s run his hands through his curls. He’d abandoned his smooth-talker facade minutes ago, now fully leaning into the side of him that you only usually see when he’s around his opponents.

“I’ve tried listening to you, Y/N, but you aren’t paying attention to what I’m saying,” he says, voice staccato. He clasps his hands in front of his chest as he groans, his face the picture of frustration. “I can’t change my schedule for you, alright? If you actually paid attention to how I live my life, and the lifestyle that I lead, you’d understand that. I can’t be like all your other boyfriends. I have responsibilities that are bigger than you.”

You bring your hands to your temples, trying not to cry as you stare at him.

“I don’t want you to be like my ex-boyfriends,” you respond, “I want you to be a good boyfriend, and pay attention to me when I tell you that I miss you.” Your voice softens slightly, and your glare loses some of its ferocity. “It gets fucking lonely living in this house, Tom. For such a big mansion, there’s barely ever anyone around, and when you’re not here…” You wave a hand through the air. “I feel alone.”

“Then move out.”

Immediately, your blood runs cold. You feel your heart drop straight to your feet, and your arms fall to your side, defeated.

“What?” You croak. A fresh flood of tears well up in your eyes as you stare at your boyfriend, who’s still looking at you like you’ve done something to cause him grievous bodily harm.

“If you hate living here, and you hate dating me so much, just move out, Y/N.” Tom shoves his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “Seems to me like that’d be a good solution to your problem.”

You shake your head, in disbelief at how quickly your boyfriend of two years has pivoted.

“Are you being serious?” You say, blinking at him. “Are you actually trying to kick me out right now? Just because I care about and want to spend time with my boyfriend?”

Tom stares at the ground, and you see his jaw twitch. You give him a few seconds to say something, anything, and when he fails to do so, you stalk over to the wardrobe. It’s only when you pick up a bag and start to throw your things into it that he seems to realise how angry you are.

“What are you doing?” Tom asks, sounding panicked. He walks towards you, reaching out for you, but you move away. Your eyes sting with tears, and you feel a few stray droplets roll down your face as you shake your head.

“I’m leaving,” you mutter. Your hands shake as you sling the bag over your shoulder and go into the bathroom, picking up your toothbrush and a few other things. “Going back to my flat.”

Tom shakes his head. “Please don’t do that, love.” He sounds desperate all of a sudden, and when you glance at him in the mirror, you see he’s deflated--shoulders shrunk, eyes wide. “I… I didn’t mean it, I was caught in the moment. You don’t need to leave.” He reaches out for you again but you dodge him.

“Don’t touch me,” you mutter. You hastily pull on the zip of the bag before walking back into the bedroom. “Don’t come over either. I don’t want to see you until you’ve figured out what you want from me and what you want from this relationship.”

He trails after you, keeping a safe distance, but you can almost feel how badly he wants to reach out and take your hand.

“I love you,” Tom pleads. “Please don’t go. We can work this out together.”

You shake your head. You’re walking fast now, just glad that you’d held onto the keys of your old flat when you’d moved in with Tom.

“We need space. I need space.” You find yourself at the front door, and you turn around to stare at Tom. He flinches as he takes in the sight of the tear tracks on your cheeks, and the angry hurt in your eyes. “Just… Leave me alone, Tom.”

You turn and you leave, letting the heavy front door slam behind you.

––––––

Your first day apart passes by in a blur of anger, upset, and heartbreak. Your best friend comes over and you talk to her, well into the night, venting about everything you’ve been unable to air to Tom, given his remarkable absence from your life. It’s not that he’d been pulling away intentionally, rather, his job had taken him away from you, over and over and over again. Every time you’d brought it up casually, he’d shot you down. It was just a matter of time before it overflowed like that.

One day stretches to two, then three. Tom makes an appearance on the fourth.

You know it’s him just from the way he knocks on your front door: three strong knocks, syncopated in his favourite rhythm. You carefully, quietly, tiptoe to the door and lean up to peer through the peephole, feeling your breath hitch as you see his figure, distorted by the glass. He looks tired and unkempt, wearing a hoodie and some jeans instead of one of his suits. His hair is all over the place, and there’s a shadow of stubble grazing his chin.

“Love?” He calls out, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know you’re there.”

You swallow, continuing to spy on him as you say nothing.

Tom sighs. “I’m so sorry, Y/N... I feel like shit. I shouldn’t have said what I said, because I didn’t mean it.” He breaks off, and you watch as he pinches at the bridge of his nose. “I know you want space, but I… I miss you. And I love you, so much. So, so, so much, love. I’ve never loved anyone this much in my life, and it’s terrifying.” He breaks off, chuckling harshly. “So I don’t know why I decided to fuck things up. Guess I’m just fucking stupid, eh?”

You rest your forehead against the door, frowning as you listen to him talk. You’ve never heard him sound so defeated before.

“Anyway, uh… I just wanted to come around and tell you that I’m sorry. I’ll never stop being sorry for what I said. I don’t want you to move out, I want you to come back.” Tom chuckles weakly. “I don’t ever want you to leave. I can’t imagine what my life would look like without you in it, so… If you want me to, I’ll give it up. I’ll give it all up.” He pauses to suck in a breath, his voice becoming thick. “We can, uh, sell the house. Move somewhere nice. Maybe get a townhouse somewhere, or, uh, a cottage, or whatever you want, darling. I could get a normal job.” He breaks off to laugh humourlessly. “Don’t know what I’d do, but… I’d do it. For you. I’d do anything for you. So… just think about it, please.”

Tom pauses, and you watch as he reaches up to rub at his eyes. His voice cracks as he adds, “I love you.” After a final repetition of the words, he sighs and steps back. “I’ll, uh, go now. Just… Know that I’m sorry. And I love you. So much.”

He turns to leave, and you suddenly realise he’s about to walk away. You reach up and rattle the chain on your door before turning the handle, throwing it open, and stepping out into the hallway. Tom turns to look at you, and you’re shocked to see his bloodshot eyes, bright red nose, and the tear tracks that stain his cheeks.

“Tom,” you say, voice gentle. “It’s… It’s okay.”

He slowly steps back towards you, moving hesitantly until you offer him your hands. You tenderly loop your fingers together, feeling his cold digits.

“It’s not okay,” Tom mumbles, looking at you with those wide brown eyes you love so much. “I was such a dick, love. I shouldn’t have said it.”

You squeeze his hands. “You shouldn’t have,” you agree, “but it’s okay.” You gently pull one of his palms to your mouth and kiss over his knuckles a few times. “I said some things I shouldn’t have too…” You sigh gently. “I miss you, Tom.”

You’ve felt it every day. A hollowness in your heart. Tom always makes your life brighter, even when he’s not around. He leaves your mug out by the kettle when he leaves every morning, and he makes sure the fridge is stocked with your favourite fruits. Tom’s the one who neatly arranges your shoes on the shoe rack by the door, and makes sure the thermostat is set right. He always tidies up the bathroom and puts your favourite teddy right in the centre of the bed, every single day. You miss his smile, and his arms, and the love he has for you that exists even when he’s not there.

“I miss you too,” he says.

He looks so fragile that you pull him in for a hug, burying your nose in his neck and inhaling the soft tones of faded cologne. Tom clings to you, his hands digging into your back and holding you firmly. You swallow as you tilt your mouth towards his ear.

“Can I come back home?” You ask. “I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

Tom hums. After a moment more, he pulls back, but he keeps his hands wrapped around you. He looks into your eyes, a very shy smile moving out over his lips.

“I would love that,” he says. “The house isn’t the same without you.”

You move your hands around his neck and kiss him very softly, feeling a part of you flicker back to life as his gentle lips nudge up against yours.

“Thank you.” You card your fingers through his hair. “I love you.”

And there’s still so much you need to talk about and work through, but Tom pushes his forehead against yours and stares at you with so much determination that you know you’ll get there, you’ll be okay. You know that he loves you.

He kisses you again, just as gently as the first time.

“Love you too, darling,” he promises. “Love you more than anything else in the world.”

#i like to spend my free time imagining fake fight scenarios and then getting upset about them <3 hbu?#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland blurb #mob!tom holland #hfjdhfjdfhdjfh #im sad but also happy but also sad #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.sfw #mob!tomfic #mob!tomblurbs #queued post

812 notes · View notes

duskholland · 3 years

Note

prompt idea if it vibes with you... frat!tom and y/n are close friends at a party and Tom accidentally drunkenly tells her how he feels about her. this could be followed by her making sure he gets home and sobers up and in the morning they talk abt it (smut could ensue, if the mood so strikes). wishing you good writing vibes 💞

no smut, just a lot of fluff! thank you for requesting--this concept makes me feel :’)) cw: alcohol

frat!tom !!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’ve never seen Tom this drunk before, and you have to admit, it’s quite cute.

There’s a rosy flush to his face, and his eyes are even warmer than usual. He’s incredibly affectionate, clinging to your arm like it’s his only lifeline, kissing your cheek every time there’s an opportunity to. It’s not that the gushing behaviour is unusual—Tom’s always been a flirt, for as long as you’ve known him—but you’ve never seen him act this enamoured. Not around you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You whisper into his ear.

Tom looks up at you, movements jerky and tired. You’re sitting beside him on the sofa. You’d been playing a game of truth or dare with the rest of the group, but they’d all scattered as soon as it finished. Now it’s just you and Tom, sitting side by side.

“Definitely,” he mumbles, voice slightly slurred. He yawns loudly, stretching out his arms and giggling when he accidentally hits your shoulder with a soft fist. “S’rry, love.”

You snort, reaching out to pat his arm. You’re tipsy, but you’re nowhere near as trashed as your friend appears to be. He curls into your touch, and you watch, smirking, as he collapses down over the sofa, stretching his legs out along the cushions as he rests his head in your lap. Your fingers move up to find home in his hair, and you stroke his strands softly as he moans.

“God, that feels good,” Tom whines. His eyes flutter shut and you continue to massage his scalp, tugging lightly on his hair when you figure out he likes a bit of pressure. “Fuck… I love you.”

You chuckle, leaning down to gently kiss his forehead. “Love you too,” you reply.

Tom’s eyes shoot open, and his jaw falls slack as he blinks. “Do you?”

A confused smile finds your face as you nod. “Yeah. You’re one of my best friends, Tom.”

A line forms between his brows. “No, no, that’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.” His nose scrunches up as he pouts, and Tom reaches up to grab your hands. He grasps your fingers firmly and stares into your eyes. “I love you.”

You tilt your head to the side, suddenly feeling a little light headed.

“I love you?” You try again.

Tom chuckles, eyes flickering down to your hands intertwined with his. He clumsily kisses your knuckles before sighing.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, voice slanted. “‘M too much of a coward to tell you when I’m sober, but I guess it’s easier when I’m fucked.” He glances up at you, seeming nervous. “It’s um… it’s fine if you don’t feel the same or—“

All of a sudden, Tom breaks off, and he goes very still as he groans. His cheeks pale, and you startle when he sits up suddenly, looking around, startled.

“Don’t be sick,” you warn, heart beating rapidly in your chest. You reach out to the table beside you and pick up your bottle of water, flicking open the cap and passing it into his hands.

Tom downs it quickly, and you soothe your hand over his back as you try to make sense of his confession. You want to believe him—fuck, you’ve been in love with him since the moment you met him—but you also watched him down four shots in a row and do a keg stand, so you don’t know how much you trust his woozy words.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, wiping at his mouth as he passes back the bottle. Tom goes to lie down again, but you gently coax him back up.

“I’m taking you upstairs,” you decide, after a quick glance at his watch to confirm it’s gone three.

Tom pouts, but it’s quick to disappear as you stand

and carefully pull him up with you. “Wait, are you coming too?”

“Yeah. I don’t trust you to climb all those stairs without me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, slumping against you as you slowly lead him towards the grand staircase.

“If you want to come into my bedroom, you could just come out and say it,” he slurs. “No need to tease, baby.”

You scoff. “How are you still such a flirt when you’re drunk?”

“It’s in my DNA. I’m programmed to appreciate pretty things, and you, love…” He reaches up and boops your nose. “You’re very pretty.”

You decide you quite like Tom when he’s drunk like this—affectionate and loving.

“You’re cute,” you reply. You sigh contentedly as you finally finish dragging him up the stairs. “Go brush your teeth,” you urge, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. You’re on the top level of the frat now, reserved for the members of admin. As president of the frat, Tom’s lucky enough to have his own room.

“Come with me,” he whines. He blinks at you with those warm brown eyes, and you find yourself melting.

It takes a while to get Tom ready for bed. First it’s his teeth, then you have to pull him out of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, then convince him to drink some water. By the time you’ve got him back into his room and into bed, he’s dead on his feet, and honestly, so are you.

“Sleep with me,” Tom mumbles, holding out his bare arms. He’s burrowed into his double bed, staring up at you with a boyish smirk on his face.

“I should probably go,” you say, sighing slightly.

“Please stay, Y/N.” His lips roll into a pout. “I want your cuddles. Promise I won’t do anything weird.”

You nod, as a quick balancing of positives versus negatives decides you’d much rather stay with Tom than trudge home in the rain.

After flipping off the lights and pulling off your outfit, you rummage through one of Tom’s drawers and find a large rugby shirt. You slip into it and tend to your makeup as best you can before collapsing into bed beside him, immediately finding his buff arms encircling your waist. Tom curls into you like a koala, and as you gently card your fingers through his hair, you’re reminded of his confession.

“Did you mean it?” You whisper.

“Hmm?”

You swallow. “Do you love me?”

Tom peels away from you, and even in the dark, you know he’s looking at you.

“Yeah,” he admits. “Had a crush on you ever since we were partnered together for that study group last semester. Tried to tell you a few times, but couldn’t ever get the words out right.” Tom sighs dramatically, and pulls you closer. “Jus’ don’t wanna lose you as a friend, Y/N… Would rather never tell you so you can’t reject me.”

You release a soft breath, then lean down to kiss the top of his curls.

“Go to sleep, Tom,” you mumble. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Night… love you.”

You hope that he’s speaking from the heart, and not from the blend of alcohols swirling through his system.

“Love you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’re woken by Tom, when he groans and swears and flings his arms around as he wakes up. When he accidentally bashes you in the side, you curse too, turning over and grumbling incoherently as you try to ignore the ache in your side and the pounding in your head.

“Y/N?” You hear him say, voice confused. “Why are you in my bed?” His words crack with fatigue, and Tom moans again. “Fuck, what did I drink last night? I can’t remember shit.”

You begrudgingly turn back over, the duvet rustling. Tom’s sitting up against the headboard now, glass of water in his hand, and you watch as he downs the pills you’d left out for him last night.

“You had way too much,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. “You wanted me to stay, so… I stayed.”

Tom hums, letting one of his hands come down to rest on the back of your head. His eyes skim your face and a gentle smile works out across his lips.

“You’re in my shirt,” he mumbles. “Looks nice on you.”

You bite back a smile, shrugging bashfully.

“Do you really not remember anything?”

Tom hesitates. He slowly puts the glass of water down before sighing, using that hand to ruffle up his hair.

“I remember bits,” he says. His eyes narrow. “Do you remember everything?”

You think for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

Tom nods, and you almost hear him swallow. “And… you’re still here.”

You smile softly. “Yeah.”

“So that means…”

“Yeah.”

He hums, and then reaches down to tug you upright. Despite your complaints at being pulled from the warm embrace of his duvet, you can’t find it in yourself to complain when Tom pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around you. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, and his hair lies messily across his forehead, but you think he looks beautiful.

“I meant it,” he admits, voice soft. His fingers gently roll over your waist. “I mean, I would’ve liked to say it more, uh...eloquently, but… it’s true, Y/N. I love you.”

He seems to be holding his breath, and the sight of him so nervous makes your heart race. You reach up and wrap your hands around his neck, smiling as you bring him in for a very soft, gentle kiss. You feel him grin into it, and you realise this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“I love you too, Tom,” you tell him.

“Oh.” He kisses you again, growing more confident as you pull yourself nearer and nestle further into his arms. “Really?”

“Mmm.” You let your fingers play with his hair as you hum, pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes. “You’re really funny when you’re drunk.”

“I’m a disaster,” he complains. “‘M so hungover now, too.”

You hum in agreement, then pull back and yawn.

“Can we go back to sleep now?” You ask, drawing a chuckle from Tom.

“Fuck yeah,” he mutters. He pulls you down with him, and this time, it’s you that curls into him. He wraps you up in his arms and holds you close, kissing the top of your head with care. “Love you,” he chimes, and despite how unfamiliar the words are, they sound right, filling his accent like that.

You press a soft kiss to his chest, and let your eyes droop closed.

“Love you too.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland #frat!tomfic #tomblurbs #myblurbs #tom.sfw #queue

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

Hey if you are still accepting soft!mob Tom ideas what about when reader is having a bad week and she is kinda shutting him out and he's not having it so he just holds her and cuddles her. If not please ignore this.

—it’s mob monday—

Nothing’s going right.

It’s as if the universe has been against you all week. Anything that could go wrong, has, and you feel as though you’re drowning. Not enough that your boss has been intent on ruining your life, your best friend picked a fight with you over nothing, and now your period has started too. To say that your mood is bad would be an understatement—you are a thunderstorm, raging, burning, splitting. As you get home, following what has to be the worst day of a very, very bad week, you’re close to dissolving.

You don’t go to see Tom, like you normally would. You know he’ll be waiting in his office for you, as he always does around this time of day, but you can’t face him too. You’d ran out this morning when you’d realised you were late for work, and you know from the brevity in his texts all day that he’s injured you’d left without kissing him or saying goodbye. As much as you’d like to crawl into his arms and find the comfort you so desperately need, you don’t want to bother him.

By the time you make it up to your bedroom, you’re exhausted and weary. A few tears slip out as you wash your face and strip off your constricting work clothes, replacing them with an easy, oversized t-shirt. You put your phone on silent and then crawl into bed, burying your head in the pillows as you cry properly. It feels cathartic to clench your fists and feel your tears soak the pillow, but you’re wallowing in it, crying like your life is over.

After a few minutes, you hear a soft knock on the bedroom door. You immediately sniff, trying to calm yourself as you roll over and look at the ceiling.

“What?” You call out.

“Can I come in?” It’s Tom, voice tentative. Immediately you know that he must’ve heard your crying—you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire house had heard you.

You swallow. “You don’t need to,” you shout, voice wavering. You reach up to your face, brushing away your tears. “I, um, I’m fine.”

Tom opens the door, and you roll over, not really wanting him to see you so upset. It’s not that you think he’d judge you, just you’d prefer it if he didn’t see you so vulnerable—bloodshot eyes, so clearly broken by the weight of a hard week. You don’t want him to think that you’re weak.

“You’re not fine, love,” he murmurs, kicking the door shut gently. You hear him walk around the side of the bed, then there’s a small ceramic clinking sound as he places something down on the bedside table. “Hey. Can you look at me?” He reaches out to touch your shoulder, and you shiver.

“I don’t wanna bother you,” you mutter, pressing yourself further into the pillow. It’s cold and damp against your cheek. “I’m fine… Just, go work, or something.”

You hear him sigh very softly, then he pats your shoulder.

“Move over,” he mutters. When you fail to do anything, Tom reaches up and grabs the duvet, pulling it down a little bit. The mattress moves as your boyfriend gets into bed, sitting up against the headboard. A moment later, he reaches out and gently pulls you in, dragging you until you’re between his legs, your head resting in his lap. You look up at him, and he reaches out to smooth both warm palms over your cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Tom looks so earnest, with his eyes shining brown, full of care and love, that it triggers another wave of tears. Just, this time, instead of rolling over and trying to hide them, you end up straddling in his lap, your head resting against his shoulder as he listens to you vent about every small, irritating thing that’s gone wrong for you all week. He keeps his hands padding over your back, his lips occasionally coming down to dust your hairline as he offers up small noises of agreement and suggestions to help ease your problems. By the time you’ve got it all off your chest, you feel infinitely better.

“Here,” Tom mumbles. He’s turned you around again, so you’re back to sitting between his legs. He reaches out and picks up the mug of tea he’d walked into the room with, carefully placing it into your hands. You sigh as it warms your palms. “Made it just how you like it,” he admits, “thought it might help you feel better if I couldn’t.”

You sip on your tea as you hum. He’s hugging you closely, his hands rubbing your sides.

“Sorry for pushing you away,” you mutter, voice a whisper. “Just didn’t want to bother you with it. I know the stuff you have to deal with is more important.”

Tom kisses the back of your head as he tuts. “Nonsense,” he says. “I care about you, Y/N. I love you. I want to know when you’re upset. It doesn’t matter how unimportant you think something is—if it matters to you, then it matters to me. Okay?”

You nod. After placing the mug back on the bedside table, you turn in his arms and kiss him softly, hands weaving into his soft curls.

“Thank you,” you say, whispering against his lips. “Love you too.”

Tom nods, his hand going to gently hold your face. “Any time.”

#im so soft rn tom cuddle me please ;(#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fluff #mob!tomfic #mob!tomblurbs #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.sfw #q

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

What about a Dad!Mob!Tom where he talks to your baby bump? And the baby kicks your belly each time she/he hears tom's voice?

Thanks!

soft! thank you for this :’)

—it’s mob monday—

You’re five months pregnant, and Tom’s never been more enamoured with you.

You probably should’ve expected it. Tom has always been very territorial—it comes with the job and the way that he lives his life. He’s always been protective, but now that you’re carrying his child, it’s on another level. He’s always hovering nearby, never leaving you alone for too long, catering to your every beck and call. It’s incredibly endearing.

“Baby?” You call out, addressing Tom, who’s in your en-suite. The door is open, and warm steam from his shower keeps drifting into the bedroom. “Can you get me some water?”

“Yeah,” he replies, voice softer than yours.

“Take your time,” you add, knowing he likes to spend a few minutes after his shower dealing with his stubble. “No rush, I can wait-”

Tom appears from the bathroom a moment later, shaving foam covering his chin, a glass of water in his hand. There’s a white fluffy towel hanging around his waist, dangerously low and exposing his v-line. You smirk, wiggling your eyebrows at him as he brings over your water.

“There you go, my darling,” he announces. You’re sitting in bed, resting up against the headboard with your hand resting on your bare stomach. You’d given up on real clothes a few weeks ago, and haven’t looked back since. Most days, you don’t even bother wearing shirts anymore—far more comfortable in a pregnancy bra and nothing else.

“You didn’t need to rush,” you coo, feeling a little bad as you notice Tom’s halfway through shaving, half of his face covered in foam, the other bare and smooth.

He just shrugs, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your bump as he places the glass on the bedside table.

“You needed water,” he murmurs. Both of his hands go to your belly, his fingers warm and delicate as he slowly rubs your bump. “And this little one needs anything you want,” he adds. He scatters kisses over the top, glancing up at you with soft eyes. “Can’t have mum being thirsty, can we? I have to take good care of my girls.”

You coo, but the sound twists louder into a gasp as you feel something very odd fluttering in your stomach. After a brief moment of confusion, your eyes widen.

“Tom,” you say, looking at him with tears in your eyes.

“What? Are you okay?” He sounds worried as he looks between you and your bump quickly. You feel the fluttering again, and you realise it’s the baby kicking.

“Yes. Here.” You take his hands, moving them back to the side of your stomach where you’d felt the movement. “Say something again.”

“Uh? Something?”

You glare at him. “The baby started kicking when you spoke to her,” you explain, “keep talking. See if she’ll do it again.”

“Oh.” His eyes are wide, and his eyes go a little glassy as he gazes at your bump, shocked. “Um, hi, little bean,” he mumbles, leaning down so he’s closer. “I hear you’ve been busy kicking. Do you want to do that again for us-” Tom breaks off, and he gasps as you feel the movements again, hard and peculiar, but bringing you unrestrained levels of joy.

“That’s her,” you mumble, clasping your hands together as you watch Tom kiss your belly again. “I think she likes you.” Tom smiles at you, his lip holding a pout of adoration. You giggle, finding him adorable, but also finding amusement in the way he’s still got shaving foam covering his jaw. “Go finish shaving.”

He scowls before reluctantly nodding. “I’ll be one minute,” he promises. He hesitates before moving off, kissing your bump again before jogging back to the bathroom, a lightness to his step.

It takes him less than a minute to return, by which point you’ve turned off the bedroom light and snuggled down into bed. Tom slips in beside you, kissing you before sliding down your body and returning his attention to your bump. In the dark, you find yourself giggling as his light fingers pad over you, tickling softly as he pays attention to your baby, showering it in more kisses, and more gentle touches.

“I love you so much,” he coos. You reach down to rest a hand in his hair, slowly stroking through his curls as you close your eyes and lean back into the pillow. “Gonna love you so much, baby. Promise.”

You feel the kicks again, and whimper softly as Tom delights.

“Do you think she’s going to do this every time she hears your voice?” You mumble, already imagining the world of discomfort that’ll await you if your baby decides to kick up a fuss like this for the next four months.

Tom hums. “I hope so,” he murmurs. He keeps a hand cupping the lower part of your belly, where you can feel the kicks landing. “Does it hurt? Is this going to be annoying? Because I can always stop talking, if you don’t like it.”

You sigh contentedly, smiling into the darkness as you marvel at how soft your boyfriend has become since you fell pregnant. As much as the sensations confuse you, you know you’ll get used to them. You know you’d never deny him access to your child—not with his voice as soft as that, and his touch so gentle.

“It’s just a bit odd. I’ll get used to you,” you say. “Talk to her as much as you want.”

Tom hums. He kisses your bump again. “I love you,” he says to your stomach. He slips back up to rest beside you, kissing your lips as his hand drifts to your belly. “And I love you.”

You smile into the darkness. “Love you too.”

#i love dad!mob!tom :') thanks for this #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff #dad!tomfic #mob!tomfic #mob!tomblurbs #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.sfw #q

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

mob!tom getting turned on by jealous!reader when girls are getting touchy with him at a club 👀 he’d tease her and show everyone who he belongs to 😏

nothing like a bit of jealousy... cw: alcohol, club setting, slightly suggestive.

—clearing out the askbox: mob!tom—

You can feel the temperature of your blood slowly starting to rise as you lean back against a wall, staring out across the private section of Tom’s club. Your grip on your drink tightens as you swallow darkly, gaze focused, almost murderous. It’s a little after midnight, and as you listen to the deep sounds of bass music thrumming through the club, you realise that you’re seething.

It’d been Tom’s idea -- a night out, at his favourite club, with you and all of his friends to let off some steam. His staff had been excited to welcome you all into the establishment for the night, roping off the VIP section and bringing out round after round. The servers in the section have been nothing but considerate, attentive, and thorough all night -- a little too thorough, because now you’re resting against the wall you’d retreated to for a breather, watching as one of the serving girls gets close to your boyfriend.

You aren’t usually a jealous person. You’ve been with Tom long enough to know that his eyes are only for you, and his heart is firmly held in the palm of your hand. However, despite knowing this, you can’t help but feel very, very, very jealous as you watch them. The server talking with Tom had started their conversation standing, but has since sat down, slid up his booth, and is continuing to talk to him with her hand on his arm. Every time she laughs, she seems to inch a little closer, and Tom? Tom seems to be completely unaware of the way her eyes keep dropping to his lips, and the very calculated way that she stops every few moments to readjust her hair.

A part of you feels bad for her. Clearly, she doesn’t know that Tom’s a taken man. You know there’s no chance in hell she’d try to get it on with her boss, in front of his girlfriend.

...Is there?

After what feels like an eternity of pointedly staring at Tom and trying to discreetly attract his attention, your boyfriend looks at you. His broad smile dips a little, his eyebrows arching as he takes in the obvious irritation on your face before he shrugs and looks at you as if to say, what?

You roll your eyes and lift your hand, casually drawing a line between Tom and the server. His eyes widen, and he cycles through a few emotions: confusion, shock, clarity...amusement. Tom wiggles his eyebrows at you as he sits back in the booth, his biceps bulging against the material of his black t-shirt as he pats his thigh and then crosses his arms.

With an annoyed smile finding your lips, you drain your glass and haphazardly put it down on one of the counters, pushing yourself off from the wall as you approach the booth. The girl is still there, curled in close to Tom’s side, but you make sure you catch her eye as you slip into the booth and very easily, very purposefully fold yourself into Tom’s lap. As you rest over his thighs, both of his arms curl around your waist and pull you closer. You hum contentedly as you smell his rich cologne and feel his warm lips catch your cheek.

“Hi,” you briefly tell the girl. Then you tilt your head, giving Tom your full and undivided attention as you cup his face in your hands and kiss him, deeply. His grip on your waist tightens and he pulls you nearer, slipping open his mouth when you drag your tongue along his lower lip. As you make out, your fingers slip back into his hair, taking anchor in his curls and keeping him in place as you kiss him, over and over and over again.

When you pull away, the girl is gone. Tom looks at you with amusement in his eyes.

“I promise I had no idea she was flirting with me,” he says. His fingers roll over your sides, making you hum.

“I know,” you reply. You pull back to look at him, eyes briefly fluttering out across all the parts of his face that you love so much: his wonky nose, his fluffy eyebrow, his deep, brown eyes. You kiss him again, a little stronger, savouring every moment as you cling to him. “You’re mine,” you whisper against him, the words barely audible over the sounds of the club. “Mine.”

“Yeah.” You drop your head to his neck, and Tom groans in appreciation as you drag your lips up the side of his throat, nibbling and sucking light hickeys to his skin. “Fuck, love. You’re really jealous, aren’t you?”

You don’t reply until you’ve paid enough attention to his neck and your trail of kisses leads back to his lips.

“A bit,” you mutter, eyes glinting. You move closer and raise your eyebrows as you feel his hardness, pressing up against you. “Are you okay down there?” You tease, smirking. “You feel a little...hard.”

Tom rolls his eyes, his hands shifting to your face. He presses his lips to yours, and then stays close, resting his forehead against yours.

“You are the love of my life,” he tells you. “You don’t ever need to be worried about anyone else.” He smiles when he sees your lips twitch into a grin, and he kisses you again softly. “And yes,” he adds, voice darker. “I’ve got the hottest woman I’ve ever seen sitting in my lap right now, of course I’m hard.” He squeezes your waist again as he looks at you suggestively. “Care to get out of here?”

#it's the way i sat down intent on making this short and it's still almost 1k lmao. i rlly like it tho fhdjkhf #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland #tom holland x reader blurb #idk how to tag ? who am i #tomblurbs #myblurbs #mob!tomfic #mob!tomblurbs #my tagging system exhausts me #mob!tom holland #wahey #enjoy #q #tom.sfw

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

What about a Soft!Mob!Tom where the reader is suuper pregnant and tom gets anything she needs (like cravings or something), and even cuddles her.

Love u

grrr this is so cute. so so so so so cute. thanks for requesting! cw: food.

– it’s mob monday !! –

“How’s that, darling? Is that better?”

Tom’s looking at you, concern written across his face. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, his shirt crumpled. For the last two minutes, he’s been fussing around you, trying to fluff up the pillow behind your back so you’ll be comfortable. It doesn’t matter how much you move and try to reposition—there’s been a sharp pain jabbing into your lower back for the last hour, and it’s been incredibly irritating.

You hum, shifting around slightly as you test the waters with this new position. A broad smile finds your mouth.

“Better!” You announce. You sigh as you lay back, your hand drifting to rest on the curve of your baby bump. You’re eight months pregnant, and though you’re enjoying your pregnancy for the most part, it’s grown tiresome. Your hormones are all over the place, your feet hurt all the time, and the cravings have been incredibly intense.

“Can I get you anything else?” Tom asks. He reaches down to rest his palm on your belly, his pinky finger wrapping around yours. His eyes are tired but still so full of love, and you feel your heart do a backflip as you meet them.

“No, I’m okay.” You link your hand with his and squeeze him softly. “You should go back to your meeting. I’ll be fine here.”

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching together. “If you need anything—anything—you call me. Okay?”

You bite back the smile that threatens to seize hold of your features, and nod. Tom’s been incredibly protective for the entire duration of your pregnancy, looking after you more than you’d ever expected him to. He’s always taken care of you, but it’s been upped—he’s uneasy whenever he doesn’t have an eye on you and doesn’t like being away from you for too long. He’s incredibly doting, and giving, and patient, and you love him so much it makes your heart hurt.

“Go,” you urge, knowing he’d happily blow off another meeting for you. “I just need to rest. Go do your job, mister.”

He kisses the back of your hand before begrudgingly stepping away.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

For a while, you flick through the programmes on the large tv attached to the wall of your bedroom, only paying partial attention as you’re between sleep and consciousness. However, when a cooking show comes on screen, you find yourself waking up. You look at the screen, your eyes widening as they fall upon the delicious spread of food. Suddenly, you feel an incredibly strong, inconvenient craving come on.

You groan as you reach out, looking for your phone. You’re distracted by the tv as you write out some simple messages to Tom.

You: hey can someone get me one of those waffles from that market in camden pls You: a really big one with the strawberries and the syrup on You: please xxxx You: oh and cinnamon. thanks

Tom: give me ten minutes

You smile as you put your phone back on the mattress, stretching your arms out above your head as you sigh happily. Tom’s got men on the ground all across the city, so you don’t feel as bad as you did when you’d begged him to go out at 3am to bring you KFC. He’d done it, because he loves you, but you’d still felt guilty. It eases your heart to know he’ll probably just relay the message to someone else and then continue with his meeting, unbothered.

Instead, you find the bedroom door opening nine minutes later, and in strolls Tom, waffle in hand, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Here you go, my darling,” he announces. He passes you the plate and kisses your forehead before waltzing off to the side, his fingers going to his tie.

“Fuck,” you moan, taking the first bite of your food and feeling your tastebuds delight. “Thank you.” You look to Tom and frown as you see he’s stripping off. “Wait, what about your meeting?”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “You need me,” he says, stating it as a fact.

You nod along, deciding not to tell him that you needed the waffle, not him, because now he’s walking towards you, shirtless and in a pair of grey sweats, and you realise...yeah. You’d quite like a cuddle.

“Definitely,” you agree. You finish eating and Tom takes the plate, putting it on the side. He offers you a glass of water, then waits for you to finish that too before approaching the bed. “Ah, fuck. I need to pee.”

Tom briefly rolls his eyes, well used to this by now. “You always need to pee,” he teases. He pulls back the duvet and offers you both hands, which you gratefully accept.

“Yeah, well, try carrying around a baby, and maybe then you’d understand.”

Tom kisses your temple before you walk away. You’re quick through the bathroom, and you find yourself yawning as you dry your hands on one of the soft cotton towels. When you walk back into the bedroom, you discover it considerably tidier than you’d left it. Tom’s apparently passed over it like some sort of cleaning fairy, and he’s moved away all the scattered clothes and dress pillows. He’s sitting in bed waiting for you, the big light switched off, and he’s apparently just as prepared as you to have a nap despite it only being late afternoon.

“You’re very cute,” you say as you get back into bed. You snuggle down and Tom curls into your side, throwing one of his legs over yours as he presses his face into your neck. His hand goes to your bump as he kisses up your neck, very softly.

“What d’you mean?” He mumbles, voice quiet and soft. His fingers draw light circles over your belly, and you hum contentedly. Already, you’re feeling sleepier, just from the darkness in the room and the warmth coming off Tom’s figure.

“So attentive,” you say. “So sweet. So...soft.”

Tom grumbles into your neck. “‘M not soft.”

“Yes, you are.” You snuggle further into the duvet and smile into the darkness. “Ditching your meetings for me, bringing me whatever I want, cuddling me all the time… You’re a big softie, Tom. It’s cute.”

“Hmph.” Tom rubs your stomach gently. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay. Happy mum, happy baby.” You roll your eyes as he repeats the buzz phrase which has characterised your pregnancy. Happy mum, happy baby has been his mantra. You aren’t complaining. It’s worked out quite well for you.

“Yeah, but when the baby’s here, you’ll be ditching me for her.”

“Never, darling, never.” Tom chuckles as he kisses your jaw. “You’ll just need to share the spotlight. Can you do that?”

You bring a hand up to play with his hair. “I think I’ll be able to figure something out,” you reply. You’re quiet for a few moments, your eyelids falling shut as you let yourself relax. You’re very content, with Tom’s soft curls against your neck and his soft breathing fanning out across your skin. You feel full of love. “‘M sleepy.”

“Go to sleep,” he whispers. Tom turns his head to kiss your shoulder. “I’m here.”

“Okay,” you mumble, yawning. One of your hands goes to rest on your stomach, and Tom repositions his palm so it’s resting on top of yours.

“Sweet dreams,” he coos. “Sleep well.”

#annnnd that's all i got for tonight ! hope you liked my v soft blurbs.... i would now like a baby pls :)#tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland fluff #myblurbs #tomblurbs #dad!tomfic #mob!tomfic #mob!tomblurbs #tom.sfw #q #also ? didnt rlly know what to use as the craving lmao personally the idea of cinammon and strawberry and chooclate makes me feel horrible #but if you like that....you do you fjdkhf #oh what syrup** not chocolate. i dont even know what i wrote hfjdkhf #anyways. enjoy :)

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