Marvel/ actor imagines

Tom Holland- one bed🖤

Yes. The one bed trope. That's right- I know all you booktokers love it. And if you don't? Read it anyway bc you will after this. Also, happy Halloween-MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS. HAPPY BDAY JESUS. MEN ARE WISE, MARY'S STILL A VIRGIN, AND SEBASTIAN STAN ISNT UNDER MY TREE.  <3

You fumbled around his pockets, searching for the key. You pulled it out and pressed it to the door knob, waiting for the little green light to blink. "Mrs. Holland." He smiled, stepping over the threshold of the hotel room, you in his arms. "Oh my God Tommy, look." You gasped. "What is it?" He set you down, smiling softly. He held you close to him, your dress bunching up near the front. "There's only one bed." You whispered.
Tom chuckled. "Well, I'm not sleeping with you." You wrinkled your nose up. "Well I'm not sleeping with you." You smiled. "I didn't think you'd remember that night very well, you were so bruised up." Tom said. "How could I have forgotten? That was the night I started to have feelings for you." You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him softly. "Obviously you would."

*****
"Oh my God, Tom, look." You pointed into the run down hotel room. "What is it?" He muttered, slamming the door and locking it behind him. "There's only one bed." You said. "Shit." Tom bit his lip. There was a fleeting feeling of butterflies in your stomach, a slight blush creeping across your face. 'What the hell?' You thought. 'Get a grip. This is Tom we're talking about.' "Well- I'm not sleeping with you." He said. "Well I'm not sleeping with you." You crossed your arms.
"Then what do you suggest we do? Sleep on the floor?" He threw his hands up in defeat. "Have you looked at the floor?" You glanced down at the darkened brown carpet, stained with cigarette smoke and god knows what else. "Then it's the bed or I go down and sleep in my car." He sighed. "It's freezing." You whispered. "Bed it is then."

"You know this goes against all of my morals, right?" You said angrily as you slid into bed next to him. "I don't particularly care, Y/n." He said, rolling over to face away from you. "Well- you should. You would if you were a real gentleman." You scoffed, facing the other way. After that it was mostly silent aside from the sounds of your breathing patterns. He breathed in, you breathed out. You breathed in, he breathed out. You couldn't fall asleep. Just the thought of what your parents would think kept you awake. You'd hardly been allowed to be alone with a boy let alone sharing a bed with one. But hey, times change. You sighed deeply once more, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up and found Tom staring directly at you. You'd rolled over onto him in the night, and had been laying on his chest since. At first you didn't say anything, mostly out of shock. "Morning." He said with a ghost of a smile. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" "Why are you sorry? It wasn't your fault you can't control yourself around me." He did smile that time. To your surprise, you laid back down. Tom went quiet. "What do you think my parents would say to me?" You asked. "They'd be understanding. Your dad might give me grief, but they'd understand that it was what we had available to us at the time." He reassured you. "Are you sure?" You asked. "Positive." He rested his hand on the small of your back. "Thank you." You whispered. "Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?" You blurted out suddenly. Tom just shrugged.

Truth be told, he was awoken to the sound of his name rolling off of your lips as you slept. It was confusing to him, he thought that you hated him. But the way you said his name convinced him it was quite the opposite.

*****

"Now we get to do what we've been waiting so long to do." Tom pushed you back on to the bed. He pushed the skirt of your dress up over your legs. "You don't- you naughty girl." He grinned. "Going commando on your wedding day." You took a deep breath as he started. You'd been waiting for this moment for awhile, when you were finally able to share this moment with the man you intended to be with. To finally share the most intimate connection attainable with him. Tom backed up and unbuttoned his slacks, letting them pool around his ankles. He got on top of you, kissing you deeply. You reached up and tangled your hands in his curly brown hair. After a particularly hard scratch, Tom ground his hips into yours. It was a weird sensation. But it felt good. "Keep doing that." You whispered in between kisses. "You like that? I think we need a little less fabric." He smiled. Your heart began to beat faster. You hadn't really mentally prepared for this.