Tom Holland & Co. Smut

Get Out

The dim light shone against your features in the darkness of your room, you were wide awake, phone in hand scrolling through, once again, your ex's instagram page. It had been three weeks since he had walked out of your apartment after shattering your heart into a million pieces, three weeks since he told you he didn't love you, three weeks since you tried to make yourself forget him. But it was never easy to forget someone, especially someone you had shared so much with, he made you feel like nobody else, each day you had spent together was seared into your brain, they way he held you close to him when you cuddled while watching Netflix shows, the way he threaded his fingers between yours as you held hands, arms gently swaying when you walked through the park near your apartment. Every corner of your apartment now tainted with a memory with him, ones that used to bring a smile on your face now made your heart feel heavy, tears brimmed your eyes as you remembered all the shared 'I love you's, cursing yourself for believing him, believing he could change, believing only one woman was enough for him, believing he was even capable of loving someone.

Your heart stopped when your phone vibrated in your hand, your ringtone disrupting the silence that had previously enveloped you, a smiling picture of the man you loved appearing under the bright letters; 'Tom Holland'. Changing his name in your phone had been hard, your heart yearned for him still, you knew loving him was wrong, it would only hurt you, yet you ignored your logical thoughts and answered the damn phone.

"Darlin'?" His slurred voice crackled through the speaker, he was drunk for sure, you had spent too many moments together and you knew him like the back of your hand.

"Tommy?" Your voice barely a whisper, silently hoping, praying he would tell you he loved you, that he could finally see that now, that you were the only girl for him, begging you to take him back-

"You home?" His deep, gravely voice pulling you away from your thoughts, you nodded before remembering he couldn't see you and answering with a hushed 'yes'.

"Mmm, gonna come over yeah darlin'? Miss you." Your heart fluttered when he muttered those last two words.

"Yes, yeah you can come over." You knew you sounded pathetic, begging him for any measly bit of affection but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

A couple of muffled voices and beats filtered through the speaker before he ended the call, you assumed he was at a club, where else would he be on a Friday night? Memories of him begging you to go out with him every Friday and Saturday rushed to the front of your mind but you pushed them to the back as you pulled yourself out of bed to tidy your room a bit. Throwing all the used tissues in the bin you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your eye bags were terrible, your eyes red, little remnants of crumbled mascara smeared on your cheeks, you were clad in one of the t-shirts he left and an old comfy pair of sweats, his t-shirt had a big stain on the front from God knows what, you hadn't changed in nearly three days, too heart broken to do anything other than mope. The only times you showered or changed was when your best friend came over, trying her best to cheer you up, something you believed impossible or when Tom decided to drop in for a booty call. It was the fifth time he had done this since your break up, yet every time you let him in again, hoping that was the time he'd stay, that he'd hold you in his strong arms and tell you how much he loved you, that he'd confess he had never stopped loving you, that it was all a big mistake, yet every morning he'd leave whilst you still pretended to be asleep and every morning you'd cry after he left because it felt like everytime he left he took another piece of you with him.

You stripped as you entered your bathroom, turning the handle and testing the temperature of the water before slipping under the warm stream. You sighed as you scrubbed your body, lathering yourself in coconut scented body wash and letting the water rinse the suds away, taking a breath before letting it run down your face and stepping out feeling refreshed. You wrapped a towel around your frame, drying yourself before going to find Tom's favourite set of lingerie, it was black with deep red lacey roses covering your most intimate part and encasing the tops of your breasts. Once you had given yourself a once over in the mirror you tugged your sexiest nightgown over your head and sat nervously on the edge of your bed. Your heart pounded as you picked at your cuticle waiting for your doorbell to ring, you knew you shouldn't have picked up the phone, that was rule number one in every book to getting over your ex, rule number two was not letting him in, yet when the doorbell rang you immediately got up to break that rule too.

Once the door opened your eyes fell on him, your love, he gave you a lazy, drunken smile before enveloping you in a hug and placing his lips on your cheek, giving you a sloppy peck. He looked good, he always did, especially when he was dressed to go clubbing, tight skinny jeans that hugged his thighs and ass deliciously , a simple white t-shirt that showed off his chest and broad shoulders covered by a leather jacket which gave off an irresistible bad boy vibe.

"So pretty darlin'." He mumbled as he took you in and you tried to fight the hot flush creeping up your cheeks.

"D'you wanna cuddle and watch some Netflix?" You pleaded.

"Think we both know why I'm here." Ouch, straight to the point, he wouldn't even pretend for you. You bit your bottom lip as you tried to suppress your feelings, if meaningless sex was the only thing he was willing to give you'd take it right?

He kissed and nipped your cheek and jawline as he watched your demeanour curiously, grinning widely when you placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled him towards you, spurring him into action. His hands gripped your thighs and pulled you up into him, picking you up and making the short, familiar walk to your room as your lips moulded against each others like they had done countless times before. It was the same old dance, except it never got old, with every piece of clothing removed you let yourself fall even more deeply in love, with every tough he gave you you let yourself believe he loved you too, and once he finally sunk into you you let yourself believe that this would last forever. The air was filled with moans, groans and grunts, and what hurt the most was what was missing, the soft kisses he sponged into your skin carried no loving words with them, empty, just like your heart. You threaded your fingers in his locks, pulling his face up to yours, searching for any trace of emotion, but all you found were deep chocolate eyes clouded with lust and sinful lips that no longer spouted loving praises. You shut your eyes, concentrating on just the feeling of his thrusts filling you up and his wet lips following paths across your cheek and neck that they had followed many nights before. Once he finally got his release he pulled out, rolling over onto his back, for the first time not even making sure you had finished too. You blinked back tears as he turned over, blindly feeling for your blanket to cover himself and fall asleep. That was when you had enough, your voice barely a whisper;

"Get out."

"Sorry?" he mumbled, not sure if you had even spoken.

"I said," your voice much stronger now, verging on shouting, "get out."

"What?" He turned to face you, shock strikes across his features.

"You heard me," you remained strong, "I'm kicking you out, now." You added.

You let him lay there gobsmacked for a couple of seconds before he finally got up, picking his close up and leaving your room, a couple minutes later you heard your front door shut and you let out a sigh of relief. Cause if you woke up under him, you weren't getting over him, and it was long overdue that you got over him.