tom holland // peter parker imagines.

oversexed // th

so, my friends snetersnarker , paintherwings , and I have decided to test our different writing styles by going off the same prompt, but taking the story from there in our own way. here's the prompt  we decided to use.

"Tom feels sexiest after the gym; all the sweat and exertion puts a little more self confidence and.. eagerness into him. So, one day when he gets home after a particularly grueling workout, he's very obviously feeling and acting as he usually does; sexy, sly, and driven."

You sat in the bed you shared with Tom, glasses dropping down the bridge of your nose as you engrossed yourself in a book. You could picture every scene in your mind like it was happening right in front of you. You've always had an imagination like that. One where if you think of a particular situation and envision it like it was a memory, even though it never did, or, most likely never will.

You also had an imagination where you could get distracted easily, and zone out for as long as you would let yourself before you snapped back to reality. This would happen all the time, wether you were on your phone, cooking dinner, watching a movie, or reading a book.

And that's exactly what happened.

Tom was at the gym, and he had been for over an hour. You started thinking about what would happen when he got home. Either he would be very excited and oversexed, or he would get a big head and just look at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes before he was bored. You didn't blame him for looking, though. You couldn't help yourself either.

You imagined him getting home and dropping his things immediately to run to you like a lion attacking his prey. You subconsciously bit your lip, in dire need for him to be home soon. Without missing a beat, you grabbed your phone and opened his contact. Right on cue, you received a text from him.

"I want you."

You stared at your phone in shock.

"Shit..." You whispered to yourself, a pit of warmth deepening in your stomach. You were shaken out of your stare once you heard car doors outside of the window. You set your book and phone on the beside table and ran to the front door. You hesitated to open it, but your actions overcame your thoughts and you swung the stubborn door. He was standing there with his gym bag over his shoulder, but not for long, because he had dropped his bag and slammed the door before you could process what was happening.   He turned around and didn't bother to look at you with fire in his eyes any longer. He quickly pinned you to the wall next to the door, one hand on your neck and the other in your hair as he kissed you with his familiar hunger. His lips found their way to your sweet spot, earning a soft moan to roll past your already sore lips. Your knees became weak as he ran his hands across your lower stomach and at the hem of your underwear. You tried your hardest not to giggle, but one escaped past your attempts. You covered your mouth with your hand, masking your other failed attempts at laughing. He sighed and rested one hand above your head on the wall. He looked up at you, a smile of defeat on his face.

"I'm sorry, you know I'm ticklish there!" You whined, not losing the wide smile on your face. You could tell a lightbulb had went off in his head at that moment. He shrunk down and picked you up at your knees, forcing you over his shoulder.

"Thomas Stanley!" You laughed into his back. He walked over to the center of the living room and flung you onto the couch. He straddled your hips and pinned your arms above your head. You stared into each others eyes for a moment before he lifted your shirt up with his teeth and began to leave marks on your stomach. You squirmed under him, squealing at every hickey he left.