Tom Holland And Peter Parker Imagines

Tom - Old habits die hard

Warning! Emotional abuse! And swearing. Quite a bit of swearing.

It had been a long decided fact that you despised parties. When you were in high school your social circle hadn't been made up of popular or out going kids so the few parties that you actually did attend were foreign and extremely uncomfortable for you.
When you left school, you had told yourself that you would change and try to go to a few more parties and clubs, just to get into the swing of things. Maybe things would be less wild, considering older and more responsible people would be attending. However, the moment you arrived at your first college-party, you realised that college students were nowhere near the same level of wild as the high schoolers - they were infinitely worse. Everything was taken up a notch and you could barely got two metres without seeing kids smoking, drinking or virtually having sex on the dance floor.

Yes, you hated parties. However, you had decided that you would make an exception to you 'no party' rule for your friend's 21st birthday.
Big mistake.

Now you sat alone at the bar, watching angrily as your boyfriend was practically grinding on another girl and wondering how you had ever agreed to join your friends at the club.

Closing your eyes, you reached up to massage your temples as yet another obnoxiously loud song began to to vibrate through your body.

"Y/N."

You jumped at the sound of his voice, low and close to your ear, and opened your eyes to find him towering above you.

"Yes?" you asked, feeling as though someone had poured a few drops of icy water down your spine. Your boyfriend smiled. It would have been a happy, kind smile if not for the way his dark eyes gleamed under that lights of the party.
"Dance with me," he told you, his voice commanding. You opened your mouth to object but he raised on dark eyebrow and your eyes widened. Dropping your gaze, you focused on your hands as you quietly got to your feet.

"Good girl," Caleb muttered and took a rough hold of your arm, dragging you towards the dance floor. You stumbled slightly, scrambling to find your feet as he tugged you along, not caring that you were struggling.

Upon reaching the dance floor, Caleb spun your body around. You responded like a ragdoll, not objecting to anything he did, and rather just trying to play along. His hard, calloused fingers gripped your hips tightly as he pressed his chest into your back.
"Dance!" he growled threateningly in your ear, and order that left no room for opposition. You did as he said and began to sway your body to the beat of the music, your lip trembling.

Caleb gripped your sides roughly, running his hands up your body. Grabbing your arms, he wrapped them around his neck. You shivered as he pressed his mouth to your shoulder.

It was safe to say that you knew how Caleb treated you was wrong. Your had spent countless nights lying awake in your shared double bed, your eyes fixed on the empty place where your boyfriend should have been. However, he was never there and you had a stark suspicion about where he was, considering the amount of times he had returned home covered in dark lovebites. You didn't say anything, for fear that Caleb would get angry, but it hurt you to know that he wasn't loyal.
You wanted to leave him so badly, it was like a burning fire deep within you. Every time he touched you, your skin burned with the knowledge that he had touched another woman that way. You didn't know how many times you had thought about turning your back on him. Just packing your bags and disappearing into the night when he was out with his mistress. But you couldn't.

You loved him. Or so you thought. He was your boyfriend, you were supposed to love him. And if you loved him, you couldn't just leave him.
This was what you told yourself every time the idea of running off popped into your mind and for over a year it had been successful in driving the idea away. The problem was, you weren't sure how much longer it would work and that thought alone was terrifying.