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etoileholland · 4 years

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I’m not half the man I used to be

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Warnings: alcohol and drinking, a wee bit of angst with a fluffy ending

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: in the span of two years, you and Tom went from being inseparable, to him being someone you heavily detested. What happens when one drunken night rolls around and he wants to reconcile?

A/N: this is a piece that I wrote for @spider-pxrkers writing challenge, which is the first ever one I’ve participated in! The flashbacks are in « » and the writing prompt I used, which is “say something, please, say anything” is bolded and italicised.

(gif not mine, all credit goes to its respective owner)

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“Listen, I know I haven’t been the best, b-but I need you. More than ever.” He slurred into the phone, while you just sighed on the other end.

Tom was right in the middle of going through his very public heartbreak, which ultimately resulted in him frequenting a lot of pubs. He usually went alone, but the paparazzi photos proved that someone always had to come and rescue him. His usual saviour was Harrison, but tonight it would be you who would be called to save him.

He was right though, he hadn’t been the best to you. You two had a long history, and it was quite messy.

Two years had passed since you’ve spoken to him, and you knew he was only calling you because he needed the attention.

Two years prior to hating Tom, you were in love with him. You remember the fallout, all too well.

« You and Tom had spent the whole day together at his trailer, on his day off from filming. You were cuddled up watching a movie together, your chest touching his back, his arm around your waist.

You two were more than friends, but when the public asked about the both of you, he always shrugged it off as a friendship. You both knew that he wasn’t exactly telling the truth, but it was for the best so that you could still keep some anonymity.

As the both of you lay there perfectly content, he heard a knocking at his trailer door. He didn’t bother to get up, ignoring whoever was on the other side of the door.

“It’s probably just Harrison, he’ll get the hint soon enough.” He remarked.

The knocks on the door became a bit more frequent and urgent. You looked up at Tom, wondering if he was gonna do something. Before you could say anything, a voice from outside said, “Tommy, are you there?”

It was a voice you had recognized instantly; it was of his costar, who was acting alongside him in the film.

“Baby, it’s cold out here, please let me in.” She said.

“Baby?” You asked, watching his face contort into a frown. He ignored your comment, quickly untangling himself from you as he went to open the door. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. You sat there, confused, the shock written all over your face.

Sure, she and Tom were friends, and you knew they were close, but he didn’t let you in on a pertinent piece of information--that they were actually dating. It was something that you had suspected, but he always seemed to reassure you that he was yours and yours only. Now, you realised that was untrue.

As they pulled away from their long kiss, Tom turned around to look at you. He looked guilty, but she stood there with a slight smirk on her face.

“Tommy, I’m guessing you didn’t break the news to her that we were dating.” She cooed, as she wrapped her arm around his.

“I guess not.” He said in a hushed voice.

“Right, well I gotta go.” You jumped up from the couch, as you scrambled to find your phone so you could bolt out of there.

“Wait, I can explain.” Tom pleaded, but you stormed past the both of them and swiftly walked away from the trailer.

“Hold on one second.” He told his girlfriend, leaving her alone in his trailer so he could follow after you.

It was pitch black outside, and if it weren’t for your white sneakers he wouldn’t have been able to see you at all. He ran in an effort to catch up with you, the cold wind cutting right through him. It nipped at his cheeks, and he quickly regretted not grabbing a jacket before heading out.

“Will you please let me explain?” He asked, trailing you. You sped up and nearly began to sprint when you felt a tug on your wrist. The jolt stopped you in your tracks, leaving you no choice but to confront Tom.

“What is there to explain, huh? The fact that you’ve been leading me on and then decide to date someone else behind my back? I mean c’mon, that hurts.”

He stood there, silent, unsure of what to say. You were right though, once it was said out loud, it did seem pretty hurtful.

“Well what was I supposed to do? All this time I’ve been trying to protect your identity, which is what you wanted after all. I like her, and I can actually go public with her and it won’t matter.”

“Bastard.” You said through clenched teeth.

“That wasn’t the way I meant to word it.” He exhaled, watching the way his cold breath swirled around the night air. “That was uncalled for. I should’ve told you that I was dating her, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.” He admitted, as he looked over at you. You let out a sigh, the air behind exhaled from your lungs visible against the night sky. You didn’t say anything, and he knew you well enough to know that meant you wanted an explanation after all.

“I should’ve told you that I was with her, but I didn’t want to ruin what I have with you. I love being around you; you make me so happy, but I just didn’t want to put you through the tribulations of dating me.” He paused for a second to look you in the eyes, but you averted his gaze. He took another cold breath in and continued.

“I know my life isn’t easy and I don’t want you to have to deal with that. You don’t need the paps following you at all times, and you definitely don’t need fans stalking you and your social media. I guess I was trying to do you a favour but now it doesn’t seem like much of one.”

“Yeah it definitely wasn’t much of a favour.” You choked out, as you wiped away a warm tear from your cheek.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that she understands my life, you know? We run in the same circles, so she’s used to the chaos and whatnot. I don’t want to put you through that misery as well. For you, it’s a choice to not have your privacy invaded, whereas for me it’s part of the job. I was just trying to protect you, sorry.” He took a step closer to you, cupping your cheeks with his hands.

“I love you, so much. So much in fact that I don’t want to ruin your life.” He let go of your face, and stuffed his frostbitten hands in his pockets.

“And that’s why I have to leave.” He turned on his heel, a slump in his step as he walked away from you. He didn’t turn back as he walked back towards his trailer, head hung low.

You watched him walk away, unsure of how to react. You stood outside long enough to watch him open his trailer door and slam it shut, wincing as it closed.

You turned around, walking off the lot and back to your car. You huffed as you noticed the frost coating the windscreen, shivering as you struggled to open your car door. Sticking the key into the ignition, you waited for the engine to warm up so that you could leave and never come back. A few minutes later, you drove home, hoping to never see Tom again.

But a few weeks later, you had seen it all over the news.

“Stay calm everyone- Tom Holland is in a relationship.” TMZ buzzed.

“Okay I know a lot of girls are going to be sad but Tom Holland is in a relationship with his costar.” Entertainment Tonight boasted.

You couldn’t stand it. When you went to the market, his face was plastered everywhere on the magazine covers. The covers varied from “Tom’s new girl?” “Alert! Tom Holland’s no longer single?”, and “Who is this mystery girl that has stolen T. Holland’s heart?”

It was sickening. You hadn’t heard from him since, which left you no choice but to move on. It was difficult when he was everywhere though, from the TV to the movies to the magazines. Even though he was out of your life, he was still lurking around.

But now, time healed that wound, and seeing his face plastered everywhere didn’t evoke any emotions from you. Two years had since passed since that incident, and you had taken the opportunity to better yourself. You finished your degree, learned a few languages and took better care of your health. You were new and improved.

Not long after you had finally gotten over him, it came out in the news that Tom had proposed to her, but apparently she turned him down. Ouch. She mentioned it in an interview with Extra, and it didn’t come as a shock as she announced she was no longer with Tom, and had quickly moved on to an Italian male model.

You had felt really bad for Tom. Sure, you two weren’t together, and he hadn’t contacted you in years, but you still loved him, and cared about him.

You had watched his descent from grace, as he was spotted at more and more pubs, having attended less and less charity events.

“Tom Holland drinks away his sorrows over his painful breakup” was splattered all over the news outlets. His reputation was currently not great, as the photos showed Harrison helping Tom stumble out of the bars and into an Uber.

So it wasn’t really shocking that he had called you. »

You snapped back out of your thoughts as you heard him beg and begin to sob. You really did feel bad for him, except you didn’t really know what to do. You wanted to help him, but he did leave you so long ago, you were torn to say the least.

“P-please, I p-promise that I’ll b-be better, I just need you.” He whispered the last part, and your heart sank.

You let out a long exhale, taking a second to think about your decision. “Okay, where are you at?” You asked, and he let out a sniffle.

“I-I don’t know, I just walked around looking for a bar and I f-found this one.”

“I’ll need you to be a bit more specific, can you ask the bartender where you are?”

“H-hold on.” He held the phone away from his ear, and you heard a faint discussion in the distance.

“Darling, I’m at t-the Dragon Lounge, in midtown.” He said, and you wrote it down so you could put it into maps.

“Okay, stay there Tommy, don’t leave.”

“I miss you calling me ‘Tommy’, and I miss you.” He slurred, but you acted like you didn’t hear that part.

“Right, okay. See you soon.” You quickly hung up the phone as you went to go rescue him.

The Dragon Lounge was a twenty minute drive from your apartment, but since it was so late it only took about fifteen. You found a parking spot right out front, locking your car and walking through the large glass doors. It was nearly vacant inside, so it wasn't hard to find Tom, slumped over the bar with his head resting on his hands.

You walked over and tapped him on the shoulder, and he lifted his head slightly.

“Darling, I’m sorry and I miss you.” He pleaded, but you were taken aback by how terrible he looked. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and he hadn’t shaved in maybe a few days, or maybe even a week. To put it lightly, he looked disheveled.

“Oh thank god you finally came, this guy is a mess.” The bartender said in a heavy Irish accent. “He tried to out drink the other Irish gentleman over there, poor boy’s sloshed. He only had two pints of stout but he was already down for the count.” He remarked, while cleaning the cups that Tom just drank out of.

“Well, thank you for watching over him, I guess.” You responded, grabbing Tom’s waist and helping him get up. It was all dead weight, and he wasn’t helping by trying to kiss your cheek every second he had.

“Alright well be safe you two, I don’t want to see him back for a while, he’s been frequenting the joint for the past week.”

“For the past week? He said he just found this place.” You questioned while the bartender shook his head.

“Oh no, he’s definitely been here every night since last Thursday.” He looked over at you and noticed the deep frown on your face.

“Like I said, the poor kid needs help. Maybe check him into rehab.” The Irishman retorted as he gave you a little wave.

Maybe he should go there, you thought.

You pondered the idea as you helped Tom stumble out of the back door of the lounge. You found your car and helped Tom get inside, and you even made sure to buckle him in, as if he was a little child.

The drive home was silent, and Tom had fallen asleep. His head rested on the window and he was snoring slightly. Any other time this would have been adorable, and would have made your heart swell. Now, you detested him.

You pulled up to your house and helped Tom get out of the car. You thought about leaving him in the car, but it’s the middle of winter and he would freeze to death. With his arm around your shoulders, you helped lead him to the front door, unlocking it as you were met with the warm air from the heater.

Tom let go of you as he stumbled to the couch and plopped down, nearly hitting his head on the armrest. You covered him in the throw blanket that was draped over the couch, and you made sure he was laying on his side so he wouldn’t choke. He tried to sit up, but failed as he plopped back down into the couch.

It really did pain you to see him this miserable and haggard. The light in his eyes was gone which was replaced by a dull, red look. His face was slightly swollen from constantly being drunk and his mouth was in a perpetual frown.

“I’ll be right back Tom, okay? You stay here while I get you some water.” You tried to move away from the couch but Tom had grabbed onto your hand.

“Please don’t go.” He whispered, barely audible.

“I’m just going to go to the kitchen, I’ll be back in a second.” You said as he nodded, letting go of your hand as you made your way to the kitchen. You filled up a glass of water and made him a cup of instant coffee, so that his hangover won’t be as excruciating.

You walked back over to Tom, who was holding his head as he sobbed. You saw that he was holding onto a picture frame that you had on your coffee table. You recognised it as an old photo of you two from when you went on a vacation to Paris together. It was a surprise birthday trip that Tom planned, and he had just taken you to see the Eiffel Tower.

You smiled as you remembered how lovely that day was, but it was quickly replaced with a bittersweet feeling when you realised that the boy you loved then, in the photo, is different than the boy sitting in front of you.

You shook your head slightly to get the memory out of your head, as you set the cups down onto the coffee table. Tom looked up at you with teary eyes, and sniffled before muttering a little “thank you”.

“You’re welcome. Drink the coffee and the water and go to sleep. I’m going to bed now, so goodnight.” You said, making your way to the bedroom. You had babied him enough and it was nearly 1:30am, so you didn’t want to wait up to make sure he was asleep.

About thirty minutes had passed, but you couldn’t sleep. You were worried about Tom, and the worry was keeping you up. A few minutes later, you heard him rinsing out the cups in the kitchen, setting them on the counter before shuffling back to the living room. You wanted to check in on him, but decided that he’s probably okay.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps approaching your bedroom, and you looked up to see Tom standing in the doorway. The coffee seemed to have sobered him up, as he was standing without swaying.

“Do you think we can talk? I can’t sleep.” He asked quietly, as if not to disturb you.

“I think tomorrow, erm, later today would be better, Tom. It’s 2am.” You said as you covered yourself up in your blankets, trying to hint to him that you don’t want to talk.

“Please? Just for a bit?” He pleaded, “It’ll be really short, I promise.”

“Okay fine, come here then.” You motioned for him to sit down next to you, and he did. “You have five minutes, so use them wisely.”

He took a deep breath before speaking. He looked over at you and hesitated, while you just stared at him with furrowed brows. He knew you didn’t love him anymore; it was evident in the way you treated him, and the way you looked at him with disdain in your eyes. He knew he blew it, but he was hoping he could fix things. He was determined to.

“God, well, where do I even begin? I’m sorry for being a jerk, and I’m sorry for choosing her over you. I made the wrong decision that night, and there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t regret it. I’m still madly in love with you, and I always will be. She didn’t make me happy, not a bit. You did, and still do. I know that you’ll probably never forgive me, and maybe I deserve that, but I just wanted you to know that I still care.”

He glanced over at you, pausing before continuing.

“Do you know why she broke up with me? She knew I was still in love with you, and that it wasn’t fair to her to have my heart taken by someone else. That, and I also moaned your name multiple times during sex on many different occasions.” He grimaced, and you broke out into an awkward laughter.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, ‘yikes’ indeed.” He laughed. “Anyway she left me, and it was the best decision for the both of us. But the reason I started to go to bars and drinking until I passed out was because I was trying to drown out the thoughts of you. It didn’t work obviously, I could never forget you. I wish I knew what to say other than sorry, but I’m sorry.” He looked down at his clasped hands in his lap, and added, “I would say more but I think my five minutes are up.”

You sat there, unable to formulate a cohesive thought. All of the words that you were dying to hear have been said, but you didn’t know how to feel. It seemed genuine and sincere, but what if he doesn’t actually mean it? He’s still drunk after all, and he knows that you’re someone who easily forgives, so what if he’s taking advantage of you?

“Say something, please, say anything.” He pleaded, but you sat there silent. After a minute of silence, you said, “I think you should leave.”

He got up from the edge of the bed, sighing before walking to the doorway.

“Right, well, um goodnight, and thank you for everything. I don’t deserve you.” He paused again, wanting to give you a minute to process what he just said.

“Oh, je ne veux pas vivre sans toi. I still remember us saying that all the time, and it still holds true. I do not want to live without you.” Tom gave you a small smile before proceeding to go back into the living room.

You sat there speechless, unsure of what to say or do. That phrase replayed repeatedly in your mind as you tried to go to sleep, but you tried to block it out. It worked for a bit, and you managed to get a few hours of sleep, but then you awoke in a panicked state.

Your mind replayed the memory in your mind, and it was torturing you. He knew how important that phrase was to you both, and it seemed like lifetimes ago when you had last heard that phrase, which was when he took you on holiday for your birthday to Paris.

« Over two years ago, Tom had surprised you to a trip to Paris for your birthday, a destination that he knew you were dying to see. The night of your birthday, he took you to the top of the illuminated Eiffel Tower. The view of Paris at night was breathtaking, and as you stood there with the love of your life, you knew there was nothing more you’d ever want.

“I have something for you.” He said eagerly as he held onto you from behind. He let go to pull a nicely wrapped box out of his coat pocket, and handed it to you.

“Tom,” you gasped, “you shouldn’t have. I thought the trip was my gift.” You said, but he nodded his head no.

“Nope, but now please open it.” He insisted and you did as you were told. You unwrapped the box and saw that it was from Cartier.

“Tom this is too expensive, I can’t accept it.” You tried to give the box back to him but he pushed it back to you.

“You haven’t even opened it yet, you don’t even know what’s inside!” He exclaimed as you rolled your eyes.

You opened the box and saw two thin gold cuff bracelets. After picking one up and admiring it for a second, you saw that there was an inscription on it inside. It read “je ne veux pas vivre sans toi.” You felt your eyes prick with tears, and Tom smiled as he wiped a tear away.

“Well, what does it translate to darling?” He asked as he held onto your waist.

“I don’t want to live without you.” You whispered back to him, smiling as he pulled you close to him.

“I still don’t understand though, why are there two of them?” You asked against his chest, and he pulled away. Tom reached into the box and grabbed one, grinning as he put it on his wrist.

“It’s for me to wear, so that we both know that we can’t live without each other.” He was crying too, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him, never wanting this night to end. »

You looked over at your phone on the nightstand near your bed to see what time it was, but you noticed a bracelet and a note that wasn’t there earlier. You picked up the bracelet and noticed that it was the Cartier cuff bracelet, but yours was buried in your junk drawer. Realizing that it was his, you saw a handwritten note underneath it, which read:

“I meant it when I said that in Paris, I love you and I don’t want to live without you.”

-Tom xx

You let out a sob as you clutched his bracelet, realising that he really did care about you, even after all this time.

You jumped out of bed and walked into the living room. Tom was snuggled up in a blanket, and his arm was hanging over the edge of the couch. His curls were in his face, and he looked peaceful. It was a stark difference from when you saw him earlier at the bar, but now he looks more like the old Tom, the one you had fallen in love with so long ago.

Carefully, in hopes of not waking him up, you put the bracelet on his arm that was hanging over the couch, but he began to stir a bit.

“Hmm, love? Is that you or Tessa?” He asked as you let a small laugh.

“It’s me.” You smiled as Tom sat up to look at you.

He grinned from ear to ear as he realised that you really were standing in front of him.

You sat down next to him on the couch, staring at the ground.

“Look,” you hesitated, “I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I’m still not sure if I can forgive you so easily. I mean, I’ve been hoping and praying that you would come back into my life and say all of these things I’ve been dying to hear you say, but now, it just doesn’t feel right. Especially since we haven’t spoken since, and I never did receive an apology from you or anything, until now. Why did you wait so long anyway?” You asked, watching as he thought of his response.

“I was a coward, that’s why. I didn’t think you’d ever want me back in your life anyways. When I asked people about how you were doing, they said you were thriving, and I didn’t want to interfere with that.”

“Wait, you asked about me?” You inquired, cutting him off.

“Of course, quite often actually.” He admitted. He half smiled and you half smiled back at him. “I didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you then, but I promise I’m going to change. For you, of course, I want to be a better man for you and you alone. I promise that on my life.” He smiled as a tear formed in his eyes. “I just want to regain your trust.”

Your eyes scanned his face, seeing if there was any indication of him lying, but you knew the words were genuine.

“Okay.” You said.

“Okay?” He questioned, a tinge of happiness laced in his voice.

“I’m willing to give you another chance, but we obviously have a lot to work on. However, I’m willing to allow you to regain my trust and try to make this work.”

He grinned, watching as you smiled softly back at him. “Love, I want to be better for you. I promise, whole heartedly. I promise I’ll protect you and never leave you, and I also promise that I won’t break your heart again.” He vowed, the corners of his eyes welling up with tears.

You grabbed his hand, him grabbing it back while he gently rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb.

“You better not.” You tearily laughed, watching his face break out into a smile.

“I won’t, I promise.”

And he kept his promise. It took some time to regain his trust, but he had shown that he could be faithful. Your relationship was smooth and happy since that night, and you had learned to accept his hectic life, fame and all. He was always besides you, checking and making sure that you were always alright.

Exactly two years later, down to the very date that you two reconciled, you and Tom got married right at the top of the Eiffel Tower, exactly where he had first told you that he couldn’t live without you. Now, he never would have to.

mes petits anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sunflowerhollands @fangirlwithasweettooth @taciturnspidey @musicalkeys @harrysleftchelseaboot @quaksonhehe @halfblood-princess-505

#tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland and you #tom holland blurb #tom holland angst #tom holland and reader #tom holland and y/n #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfics #tom holland one shot #tom holland one shots #tom holland #bellasmarvelwc #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x female reader #mine

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spider-pxrkers · 4 years

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#bellasmarvelwc entry masterlist!

in the beginning of july i hosted a marvel writing challenge to be carried out until 5/Aug/2020! i’ll be updating this masterlist whenever there’s a new entry, enjoy!

clint barton:

➡ baby: You and your husband Clint are eagerly awaiting the arrival of your first child, the archer thinking every sound was you going into labour. Today though, he’s not too far off the mark… (prompt: “I hear a scream. Are you okay?”) by @its-a-leap-of-faith-kid

peter parker:

➡ toffee & tears: Peter’s protective over cabbage, Shiloh Jane has a god-awful gag reflex and a bad tendency to cry in stressful situations, and Ned can’t read an expiration date to save his life. (prompt: “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”) by @cunaeparker

➡ seasick: When you give one lie to your mom that you have a boyfriend, she ends up buying an extra ticket for a vacation. Now you’re stuck looking for a fake boyfriend and eventually drag Peter in. Except you and Peter both like each other and don’t know how long you can last pretending. (prompt: fake dating au) by @blissfulparker

➡ the red balloon: The reader tries to get out of watching It for the Avengers’ movie night, so they don’t find out she’s terrified of scary movies, but when all else fails, the only one who can help assuage her fear is Peter. (prompt: “Here, hold my hand.”) by @i-sing-for-me

tom holland:

➡ i’m not half the man i used to be: In the span of two years, you and Tom went from being inseparable, to him being someone you heavily detested. What happens when one drunken night rolls around and he wants to reconcile? (prompt: “Say something, please, say anything.”) by @etoileholland // @constellatinq

wade wilson:

➡ couvre-feu: Wade Wilson and his beautiful wife Victoria Saint-Clair are the leaders of the most powerful mafia in New York. With being such strong leaders, it’s inevitable that some people go behind their backs. Victoria just happens to be a specialist in that department. (prompt: mafia boss au) by @emptycanvasposts

participants under the cut:

#bellasmarvelwc #marvel writing challenge #bellasmarvelwcentry #peter parker one shot #peter parker x oc #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker #marvel masterlist #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland masterlist #peter parker masterlist

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cunaeparker · 4 years

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toffee & tears | peter parker x reader

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!OC

Summary: Peter's protective over cabbage, Shiloh Jane has a god-awful gag reflex and a bad tendency to cry in stressful situations, and Ned can't read an expiration date to save his life.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of vomit

this is for @spider-pxrkers writing challenge !!! i used an original character if thats okay. the prompt i chose, ‘take a picture it’ll last longer,’ is in bolded italic. also, if you have a fear of vomit, please don't read the parts in between the asterisks. its not mentioned much and isnt very detailed but there are some descriptions. ill put an indicator ( asterisks ) where it is so you can skip, though as a fair warning, its kinda crucial to the storyline and if u dont read some itll be kinda confusing. no pressure tho !!!!

masterlist // peter parker masterlist

"It's raining."

And Peter was right: the rain pounded against the large glass windows and thunder streaked across the grey sky, making SJ's heart skip a beat every time it crashed, startling her, and permitting her hand to twitch at the sudden noise; it smeared her pen handiwork on her page, and with an angered scoff and a mutter, she attempted to quickly wipe it off though her attempts were futile — the brand of ink seeped and stained the lined paper rather well, given the fact that it didn't smudge yet based on the way she was writing with her left hand.

Of course, just when the written report was due for creative writing, she somehow managed to smear blue ink all over her assignment. And leave her computer at the bus stop, which is why she was writing on paper in the first place.

Great.

She wanted to scream, but when Peter waved his hand in front of her, trying to grab her attention, she looked up at him, his words bringing her back to ground: She was in his apartment, working together because he was her partner. How could she forget? The encounter had been anything less than pleasant, if she was being honest. Peter forgot to offer her a drink, his living room looked like a neglected neighbourhood wetland, and his fridge reeked of old cottage cheese that he forgot about.

SJ sighed and nodded reluctantly in response to his bleak observation.

"I know," she replied. "I noticed."

Her words were said coldly, though not at all there — she was distracted, still preoccupied with the stain. She frowned and tried to wipe at it again, but this time, it smeared onto her writing and made it nearly unintelligible. She scoffed and began to wipe more vigorously, unaware of Peter's small smirk as he observed her, amused: she was wearing an oversized NYU t-shirt that he guessed she got freshman year, black shorts that hugged her hips a little too tight, a silver necklace that dipped nicely into the divot in her collarbones, a pair of funky long socks that she borrowed from her friend — adorned in a dreadful pot pattern, of course — a small bit of something subtle underneath her high cheekbones, contouring them beautifully, and best of all, a large, frustrated scowl on her face, tinged pink with annoyance.

It was endearing, if it wasn't for the fact that her venomous glare at the inanimate object was penetrating enough to puncture flesh, of course. But anyway, regardless of how much her gaze made him uneasy, he spoke again.

"You look like your head is going to explode, Shiloh Jane," he said.

Her scowl deepened but she didn't look up from her page. In fact, her pen began to fly faster.

"Don't call me that."

Another simple answer. And a retort, at that.

Peter raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his water. "You're a tough one to crack."

She didn't look up. "I know."

"Why do you keep giving me short answers?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging.

"You're frustrating."

She finally looked up from her page, eyes wide and face flushed. Exasperated.

"What do you want me to do, give you my views on the meaning of life?" she snapped, annoyance lacing her words as she leaned forward and pressed her lips together. "I came here only because we were paired up for this damn assignment. And I hate to be blunt with you, Peter, I really do, but I really don't want to be sat at your coffee table while you do no work."

Peter shrugged. He reached across the table to take a sip of her coffee. Her aegean blue eyes narrowed.

A another scoff echoed from the back of her throat.

"That's quite the tangent," he commented, swallowing the coffee. He suppressed a shudder and a grimace, finding it rather lukewarm for his taste. He didn't know why she drank it cold but intended to ask her later. He continued. "Do you need some water? Your throat must be tired considering all that scoffing you're doing."

She stared at him for a moment, incredulous, before shaking her head — and unpredictably, scoffing — before going back to scribbling.

Peter was about to comment on how her handwriting looked like chicken-scratch, but decided not to mention it. He would rather not be found in his apartment with a slit throat from her sharp-tipped ink pen.

But, within a few seconds, he was back on the instigating train.

"Okay," he teased, leaning forward and furrowing his eyebrows as he took another instinctive sip from the coffee mug — now grimacing because he wasn't expecting the cold taste, "are you angry?"

SJ's freckled cheeks reddened and he thought he saw a flash of rage pass behind her eyes.

"No, I'm not," she said quietly, leg bouncing rapidly from underneath the table. "I'm... irked."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Irked?"

"Yes."

"That sounds like something my grandma would say."

Suddenly, she slammed down her pen and looked up at him.

Peter jumped back, unprepared to see her eyes as livid as they were, especially with her heaving chest that had to be from an irregularly beating heart. Her eyes were wide and livid, nostrils flaring and hair seeming to frizz and heat with electricity, body reacting to the live, angry wires sparking inside of her — until her chest heaved one last time and her eyes broke, welling with tears.

And then suddenly, she was crying.

Peter sat still, perturbed.

"You don't get to comment on what I'm doing, Parker!" she cried shrilly, tugging at her hair. "All I'm trying to do is make it through the fucking semester, but here you are, acting like everything's fine, when it's just... not! I need to focus for fuck's sake! Can you please stop pestering me?"

Peter stayed quiet.

A large influx of guilt passed through his body and he had to suppress a shudder.

"I..." He bit his lip and meant to say something else in attempts to comfort her and apologize, but for a fleeting, idiotic moment, among the sound of SJ's blubbering lips, his eyes darted around the room and landed on the English toffee Ned brought back for him from England on Christmas vacation four years ago on top of his fridge — it was old, never-eaten, most likely bad, but he still found himself asking in a spur of the moment blur, "Do you want some toffee?"

SJ's cries stopped and she looked at him as if feelers sprouted from his head. "Toffee?"

Peter hesitated and for a moment thought that she was going to surge forward and throttle him.

"Uh, yeah. Toffee," he said reluctantly. He nodded his head towards the fridge and fidgeted with his fingers. "I have some, if you want. I think there's liquor or something in it, if that helps how you're feeling." He paused. "I... I'm sorry for how I acted, too. It was really immature."

But SJ didn't miss a beat.

"Toffee?"

Peter didn't know what to say. He opted for a slow, hesitant nod and a small, forced smile.

And then suddenly she sprang out of her chair, shirt clinging to her body from the tears she shed. Peter nearly fell backwards out of his chair at the sudden agility she showcased, but she was already onto the next thing — SJ stormed to his fridge muttering curses under her breath as she threw the door open and began rummaging through his groceries.

It was all so sudden the only thing he could do was stand and watch with a slightly gaping mouth.

But when she tossed a head of cabbage Peter was planning to use for dinner onto the floor, that's when he lost it.

"What are you doing?" he cried, stumbling forward. He picked up the cabbage and looked at SJ, scandalized. "I was using that for dinner!"

"And I want to get rid of this before I eat your damn candy," said SJ heatedly, eyebrows furrowed determinedly (and rather angrily, for some reason) as she pulled out the container of cottage cheese. "This has made it increasingly difficult to focus. How the hell do you eat this shit anyway? It tastes like underpants," she grimaced, tossing it into the sink, where it landed with a sickening splat and a gross emission of something that smelled like... well, age-old underpants. "Your apartment reeks of it. I wanted to tell you, but I feel like you kind of deserve it." She simpered and snatched the cabbage from a star-struck Peter, patting it gently before putting back into the fridge. "And don't worry Peter," she began, "it was never my intention to hurt your baby."

Peter's nose wrinkled. "My baby?"

SJ snickered, standing on her tiptoes and grabbing the box of toffee on the top of the fridge.

"The cabbage, of course," she said, before opening the box and popping one into her mouth. But then suddenly, she winced and her face morphed into a funny expression Peter found concerning, ears turning red and visage becoming an ill shade of green. She spat the slightly chewed candy onto the floor. "That's rancid!"

"It is?" Peter asked, genuinely curious. He took the box from her hands as she hurried to the sink to grab some water. The label read: 'Best before 3-18-1988.' Peter's nose wrinkled again. Where the hell did Ned get this from? He opened the cabinet below the stove and promptly tossed the whole thing.

Once he slammed the small cabinet door shut, he hurried over to SJ, who was now positively green and dry-heaving, because apparently, she forgot that the cottage cheese was in the sink and as soon as she leaned down to take a sip, she got a face full of stink.

She dry-heaved again and groaned.

Peter grimaced and pat her back, wincing as a string of saliva hung over the sink, connected between her lips and a strand of thick strawberry blonde hair.

***

"It was really that bad?" he asked, gently rubbing her back as — was that vomit? — expelled from her mouth. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think Ned would get me candy that expired thirty years ago!"

"Thirty —" SJ vomited again, "years —" she inhaled a large gulp of air before nearly coughing up a lung, "ago?"

Peter nodded gravely. "Yeah... I'm sorry." He paused. "Again."

"Ah, come off it," SJ said, gasping before expelling her stomach contents for what was probably the last time. "It's okay. It's not the toffee that's doing this, it's that damn cottage cheese." At the mere word she looked like she wanted to vomit again. "I have a really bad gag reflex and if something smells that bad, I'm gone." She made a whistling noise and showed her hand falling from a high height, before it reached the ground and was backed by an amusing exploding noise. She smiled weakly. "Apologies for ruining your sink."

"You didn't ruin it," Peter said, frowning. He rubbed her back and helped her up from her bent-in-half position over the stainless steel. "I can wash it. I do after dishes every time, anyways." He offered her a small smile. "It's no biggie."

SJ smiled tiredly as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "'No biggie?' Who are you? The Notorious B.I.G?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up."

SJ laughed.

Peter's grip on her waist tightened as they began moving towards the table, and it might've been a little much, but he knew from personal experience how shaky one's legs could get after vomiting. And based on how much SJ did, he was almost certain that attempting to walk after using that much energy would result in a cracked head.

"Ah, shit," SJ said suddenly. Peter whipped his head to the side, expecting there to be blood bubbling from her nose or something, but his gaze followed hers and landed to the mess on her t-shirt. SJ scowled and pulled away from Peter, not noticing how his face fell slightly, holding it up to her face. "It's ruined."

***

"You can borrow one of my shirts," he offered. SJ looked at him funnily. "If you want," he added quickly, turning a subtle shade of pink.

SJ seemed to notice his pinkening face, because her eyes narrowed in a slightly accusatory way, but she seemed to shake it off with a small shake of her head. She tilted her head to the side.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I don't want to intrude."

"You aren't intruding," Peter said. "It's all okay, I'll go grab you one."

He shot her a smile before heading to his room, rummaging quickly through his messy drawers. He picked out a large, grey Queen t-shirt, and it might not have been the best choice because it was huge even on him, who was short for normal standards — he stood at 5'8, whereas SJ stood at a petite 5'3. He considered it for a moment but shook it off with a brisk shake of his head.

He rushed out into the living room, where SJ stood in the same spot, observing his photographs with a small smile.

As soon as she saw him walk in, her face brightened.

"Is this your picture?" she asked, pointing to a picture of Spider-Man hanging on the wall.

Peter nodded, handing her the shirt as another wave of pink tinged his face. What was getting into him? Maybe it was the fact that he only put it up last year; it was definitely not one of the most humble moves, he loved it: It captured the essence of his alter ego perfectly. He thought it was a good picture and he was proud, considering he took it himself on a timer and in action.

"Yeah, it's mine. Do you like it?" he asked reluctantly, not wanting to sound too full of himself.

SJ nodded. "It's amazing. All the other pictures I've seen of Spidey are blurry and terribly edited. Crazy how those are the only ones that get published, hey?"

"Totally," he agreed quickly. "I actually had an internship at the Bugle — y'know, where they publish the pictures — and they thought my pictures were drawn or something. It was so absurd. They never got published in the end, but I'm still proud of my work." And then to take off the edge of egotistical prick he added, "I guess."

SJ frowned and her mouth hung open slightly, eyes darting back and forth between Peter and the picture.

"You took this?"

"...Yeah?"

"Peter, this is amazing!" she praised. "The colours are perfect and the shot is so clear!"

Peter blushed. "Thank you," he said, walking forward and standing beside her, observing the picture as well. "I really appreciate it. Are you into photography too?"

SJ shrugged. "Kinda. I was into it for awhile, and even thought about majoring in it, until my parents deemed it 'too impractical' and made me do something with English and Science." She nudged Peter's side and scowled. "It's dumb, hey?"

"Yeah," he said, "though I don't see why you shouldn't be allowed to do something you're passionate about..."

Peter felt odd about SJ's small admission. He didn't completely understand why she gave up on the thing she loved when a set of people told her she couldn't do it. He thought she was more strong-willed than that. But, SJ only shrugged, and interrupted his thoughts by placing his shirt in between her legs and taking off her current one.

It was so sudden, just like that, that Peter barely had time to comprehend the fact that some beautiful girl was standing topless in the middle of his apartment, admiring the designs on his shirt like she had no care in the world.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Peter asked, trying hard not to blush and cower away. "You can go in my bathroom to change, if you want."

SJ chuckled and folded the shirt over in her hands, reading the design. "It's okay," she assured, though it didn't entirely help Peter's case. "You don't strike me as malicious." And then just like that, she shrugged off her bra, turning around.

Peter nearly passed out.

He couldn't see anything, obviously, but he couldn't help to observe her back... it was a little intruding, but he couldn't help it. With his heart in his throat, he tried to look anywhere else but her, but his eyes seemed to go against his will and stay there, staring. Her back was well-defined and toned. It looked like she was fit. Peter intended to ask why she just took of her bra in the middle of his living room, but before the words could leave his mouth, he noticed a large, white scar going up the length of her spine.

He frowned and before he could comprehend it, he asked, "What's on your back?"

He clamped a hand over his mouth and felt his heart race. Why did he ask that? Why was he so intrusive?

SJ halted her moments for a second. She hesitated, and her movements slowed, but she only shook her head and blew out a steady stream of air through her lips, finally shrugging the shirt over her defined shoulders.

"It's nothing," she said, turning and offering Peter a taut smile, though her words weren't said as confidently as they usually were. Peter felt an influx of guilt. "It's just some dumb old battlescar, y'know. We all have them." She patted his chest, and Peter's mouth opened to apologize, but she cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't apologize," she said quietly. "I get that question a lot. But, most of all," she raised an eyebrow, looking grave and saddened, until a sudden, wide smile curled up her full lips. "You should've taken a picture, it would've lasted longer. I have eyes on the back of my head, Parker. And also, I like Queen. Very unique. You have good taste."

And then she turned, shooting a flabbergasted Peter an enigmatic smile as she walked over to the kitchen to grab a paper towel, most likely about to wipe off the residue on her own shirt. But, it left Peter confused: What was she hiding, but most of all, why did she look so good in his clothing?

***

tags :

peter parker taglist ➝ @galaxystern08 @averyfosterthoughts @pparkeramorr @peterparkermadness

tom holland taglist ➝ @thenoddingbunny-blog @galaxystern08 @coni-marti @inhumanwithpowers @softholand

mutuals ➝ @quackeroos @parkersbliss @chaoticpete @cosmicholland @stardustom @mannien @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @silteplaittais-toi @spideygirl2003 @yoinkyourheart @darlintom @dreamofaprilsblog @the-crazy-fanfictionist @peterspideyy @eridanuswave @thirzaholland @t-holland2080 @peachyparkerr @parkeret @etoileholland @j-romanoff001 @spider-pxrkers

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emptycanvasposts · 4 years

Text

Couvre-Feu

Summary: Wade Wilson and his beautiful wife Victoria Saint-Clair are the leaders of the most powerful mafia in New York. With being such strong leaders, it’s inevitable that some people go behind their backs. Victoria just happens to be a specialist in that department.

Pairing: Mafia AU!Wade Wilson x OC!Victoria Saint-Clair

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Mafia!AU, Violence, Guns, 18+, Oral Smut female!receiving, Teasing

A/N: This took me a pretty long time and it’s not the best, far from it. It’s my first smut piece so please leave me feedback! Comment! Reblog! I hope y’all love it and let me know what you think!

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Pulling on her skin tight black dress, the one that had spaghetti straps and fell to just above the top of her knees, she thought to herself about how the evening would go. The quick drive there with her husband, a car in front and one behind the one she would be in, the greetings she would encounter once she got there, and most important of all her speech that she had been preparing for weeks. The banquet hosted for charity had been planned for over a year and yet she was still nervous about it, even though most of the other things she did in her life she could do without a bat of her eyelashes.

To everyone at the banquet she was Victoria Saint-Clair age 34, one of the youngest, most successful, and most powerful CEOs in New York. She ran a financial group known as the Saint-Clair Group and was most trusted by many of the most powerful and richest people in New York. But those who knew her best and were with her at all times knew that the Victoria that ran one of the most successful companies had a completely different life to the one she had at work. To those few people, she was Victoria Saint-Clair, the Queen. Victoria was married to the most feared, powerful, and notorious man in New York. Wade Wilson, more commonly known as the King, was the biggest mob boss in NY.

Four Years Prior

Wade turned to his driver telling him to take the next left, that the banquet was held at the first building on the right. As his driver pulled up beside the building, Wade stepped out of the car followed by a single bodyguard, Vince, not too worried that anything would happen unexpectedly. Walking into the establishment he passed the coat holding room, keeping his to hide the piece resting in his waistband at his lower back, and into the main area where tables were set up and waiters were scurrying around with drink orders.

Sitting at a table in the back next to Vince he waved for a waiter, ordering their finest whiskey neat. After a few sips, Wade got up followed by Vince and walked to the hallway where the jacket room was, heading to the bathroom. As he was walking he bumped into a slightly shorter woman. Looking up to him from her phone, where her focus had previously been focused, “I’m so sorry, I obviously wasn’t paying attention,” she apologized with a nervous smile. Looking down at her he could see the way her lips moved with each other, the slight sheen on them probably from her licking them, her gorgeous sun kissed skin tone, the flowy dark hair that he automatically wanted to run his fingers through, and her golden brown eyes that drew him in completely, he wanted her in every possible way. “It’s alright, um I’m Wade Wilson,” he said with an outstretched hand, “and who might you be?” “Victoria Saint-Clair,” she responded to him with a gorgeous smile. “So you’re the one I have to thank for this beautiful fundraiser,” he looked at her with his own smile, “would you like to walk with me?” he nodded to Vince letting him know it was okay. “Sure, um I can’t for long because I have a speech to give but of course. I can’t turn down a guy as handsome as you, Mr. Wilson,” she subtly flirted as she began walking the hallway with him.

Walking down the hallway they began talking amongst one another, casual small talk to begin. “So Mr. Wilson, what is it you said you do again?” Victoria asked innocently. Rubbing the back of his neck, unsure of how to respond, he told her, “Well I have few different companies that I own, security is one of the big ones.” She looked up to him, “So that’s why you come with your own entourage?” He chuckled, “Yea, I guess you could say that,” he started as he felt his phone ring in his jacket pocket, “I’ve got to take this, it’s work. I’ll only be a second.” She smiled at him as he walked a step away answering the call. She could only make out the last few words he had said, “I’m on my way. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll handle it personally.” As he walked back to where she was standing he had an agitated look on his face. Watching him she said, “So I take that as you won’t be able to hear my speech.” “You’ve got that right. We’re having some trouble at the office so I’ve got to go over there. Why don’t I call you when I’m done and if you’re finished here maybe we could talk over drinks?” he had suggested. Grabbing a pen from her purse she wrote her number on the back of a business card, slipping it into his inside jacket pocket. Standing on her toes she whispered in his ear, “and maybe after you could tell me what you actually do back at my place,” before walking away and back into the main room.

A year later they were married and she was fully introduced into his world. As long as she was at his side he could never be overpowered and as long as he was at hers she felt unstoppable and in complete control.

Now

As she sat on the edge of her and Wade’s shared bed strapping her heels, Wade walked into the room from their closet. Standing up from finishing her shoes, she walked over to her husband grabbing the two strands of fabric to his tie and tying them for him. Placing her hands on his chest she felt as his hands snaked around her body and landed on her ass giving it a squeeze. “Baby have I ever told you just how crazy you make me? Especially when you wear dresses like that, that leave little to the imagination,” Wade said to her, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. Pressing his lips against hers she lets out a soft moan, the way he looks in a suit already has her getting chills that go straight to her core and with that statement she’s almost melted into his hands, pulling back she looks at him whispering in his ear, “If we keep going I won't be able to stop and we really have to go to the banquet.”

Watching as she walks away from him to grab her purse and blazer, Wade doesn’t even try to hide his staring at her ass, absolutely loving the way it looks in her dress and dying to be able to to take the damn thing off of her that second. Grabbing his suit jacket he follows her to the front door of their penthouse, locking the door on their way out, slipping the keys in his pocket and his gun in the back of the waistband of his pants. Vic looked him in the eyes and playfully joked with him, “You know it’s just a banquet, that isn’t going to be necessary.” Wade laughed lightly, “As if you didn’t bring yours.” She looks at the floor and smiles as they begin their walk to the elevator, “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

Their drive to the venue was quick, upon arriving both Vic and Wade passed the jacket room neither leaving their jackets and were greeted by an enormous amount of people before they even got a chance to sit down at their designated table in the front. Pulling off Vic’s jacket, Wade placed it on the chair she would be sitting in before pulling it out for her to sit and pushing it back in when she did. Sitting down, Wade pushed his chair closer to his wife placing his hand on the top of her knee where her dress had rode up slightly from her sitting down.

Victoria didn’t think anything of his hand placement as she ordered both her and her husband the finest whiskey available neat. When the drinks arrived she began to realize the hand that was at her knee had slowly begun inching its way up her leg, underneath the dress that she was wearing. Vic quickly gave Wade a sharp glare and he gave her a smirk in return. Leaning closer into her, he whispered in her ear, “You didn’t let me have my fun earlier so I am going to have some fun now.” His hot breath fanned over her neck causing goosebumps to form over her entire body and a shiver to go down her spine and straight to her core.

Wade slowly inched his hand up her thigh chuckling to himself when he felt the barrel of her gun. Found it. Making his way past her gun at an incredibly slow pace, Vic’s blood was boiling with anticipation just waiting for him to get to where she wanted him most. With the way he was dressed and the teasing, she knew she was already soaked for him and it would be no problem for him to just slip his fingers inside of her.

Reaching just below her slightly clothed center, Wade grazed his fingers over her skin as close to her core as he could get without touching her where she needed him. Trailing his fingers up towards her lace panties, he lightly traced a line up from where her entrance was covered to her clit. Vic felt Wade start to rub circles on her covered clit and she let out a shaky breath that she hadn’t realized she had been holding in.

Pushing the lace to the side, Wade pushed his finger inside her, curling it just slightly upwards. He could see the way her face contorted as he did, her eyes closing, her lips squeezing together, her eyebrows furrowing together. He pumped his finger in about four or five more times, pulling it out almost all the way each time, when he felt his phone ring in his pocket.

Pulling his finger out, he heard her whimper slightly, and he sucked the finger into his mouth. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his phone and answered it, Vic couldn’t hear what was said but by the way her husband had said “I’ll be there soon,” she knew it couldn’t have been good. Leaning in to whisper in her ear, Wade explained to her, “Aaron ratted on us. It needs to be handled. What should I do?” The only thing that he would ever ask her permission for was rats, it was her specialty ever since she joined the lifestyle. “Take him to the warehouse and bring my supplies out. You can do a little harm but don’t kill him, I will take care of that,” her voice was hushed to where only he could hear her, “I’ll leave right after my speech.”

About ten minutes after Wade had left it was time for her speech, it was only a five minute speech but it felt like the longest five minutes of her life. She didn’t do much in his world but the one thing she did do was handle those who ran their mouths. It was the one thing that made her mad and that she was good at for them, other than their financials of course.

Finishing her speech, she walked off the stage and met with her guard at the door as quick as she could. Getting in the car, the trip to the warehouse was a quick one. She got there close to ten minutes after she left the fundraiser venue. Taking off her jacket, she pulled her gloves out of the pocket and placed both on the seat. She took the gun she had stowed in between her legs, emptied the chamber, and took out the magazine before placing it on the seat with her jacket. Picking up the pair of gloves and opening the car door she headed inside the back door of the warehouse followed by her guard.

The sound of heels tapping against the blood riddled concrete floor was the only sound to be heard within the large warehouse. Wade watched as Vic slowly made her way to the center of the room where Aaron was handcuffed to a chair, pulling on her leather gloves as she did and flashing a wicked smirk to him in the seat in the corner.

Victoria reached the center of the room where Aaron had been placed, various bruises already forming on his face and sides near his ribs and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and at the corner of his eyebrow. She clicked her tongue on the palette of her mouth audibly as she scanned the many knives, guns, and lighters placed on the table near him for her, “I see you have already been having some fun without me A,” she said picking up a curved black knife with a circular hole at the end and walked around the back of him, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “but lucky for you, I like to have a lot more fun than they do.”

Walking back around to the front of him, Vic dragged the tip of the knife around his bare shoulder all the way around to the center of his chest, not cutting him the entire way around. “You see Aaron, we don’t take kindly to those who run their mouths about us,” she could see him fidgeting and pulling at his restraints, “and you must know that I really don’t like it.” Vic’s lips curled upwards into a devilish smirk as she took the knife in her hand and sliced a thin cut on the top of his right cheek.

Placing the knife on the table, she heard him hiss through his teeth from the pain. “And you should really know that we cannot have little guys like you, running around and telling everyone all of the tiny details they do not need to know,” Vic explained as she turned back to face him with a classic silver zippo lighter that she was toying with in her right hand.

Open. Light. Close. Open. Light. Close. she repeatedly did this as she walked to the chair where Aaron was seated and placed her left hand on his right shoulder. Open. Light. This time she kept it lit as she said to him, “Ouvre les yeux.” Open your eyes. She blew the flame out and jammed the hot lighter into his left eye, immediately earning screams of pain from Aaron, holding it for a second there before she pulled it away and walked back to the table placing the lighter back and picked up the 9mm next to it.

Spinning around to him she racked and lifted it to point at his head, “Couvre-feu, Aaron.” Lights out, Aaron. Finger on the trigger, she squeezed, landing a bullet between his eyes. Placing the gun back on the table she nodded at the guards next to Wade in a silent, “Take care of it.” Walking to Wade where he was seated, she kissed his lips deeply before pulling away, “Let’s get out of here. I’m done here and you need to finish what you started,” she whispered in his ear and bit the lobe.

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Wade walked Vic backwards towards their bed, never pulling his mouth away from her neck where he was kissing. His hands found her hips as the backs of her knees hit the bed and he pushed her down slowly until her back was flat against the mattress. Trailing his kisses down to her collarbone and into her cleavage, Victoria’s head fell back against the bed and her mouth opened to let out a soft mewl at the feeling of his teasing kisses. Her hands came up from her sides where they were resting to tangle in his hair and she rolled her hips up to meet his in an effort to form some sort of friction in her aching core.

Using his hands, Wade held her against the bed so she couldn’t budge and lifted his head to her ear, “Ah, ah, ah, don’t rush me. You looked so good playing with our friend earlier and I just want this to be about you,” his hot breath fanned over her neck and ear causing her to shiver.

Wade slowly stood up at the foot of the bed wiggling his finger in a come here motion, encouraging Vic to stand up with him. As she stood in front of him, Wade crashed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, one hand pulling the zipper of her dress down and the other grabbing her ass. Pulling away from the kiss he watched as her dress fell from her body and pooled around her feet and she stepped out of it kicking it away from them. Placing both hands at her hips again he moved her to where she was laying with her head on the pillows at the top of the bed. Hovering over her, Wade began trailing kisses from her jaw all the way down to her hips, stopping to suck marks in her skin every so often.

Making it to just above her panty line, Vic started getting impatient and tried repeatedly to lift her hips in search for some friction. “Wilson I swear to god if you don’t do something I will,” Wade chuckled with a devilish grin at her needy state and ripped her panties off her legs just as quickly as she had begged. Placing kisses to the tops of her thighs, he nudged her legs apart and placed each on his shoulders feeling her hands tangle into his hair and pull making him let out a deep groan in response.

Dipping his head, Wade slowly licked a stripe from her entrance up to her clit, wrapping his lips around the bud and beginning to suck. Vic let out a loud moan of relief, finally feeling pleasure after hours of pent up tension and teasing. She pulled on his locks once again and harder than the last time pushing his face closer to her core to get as much pleasure as she could and felt her entire body shake when she felt a moan Wade had let out completely go through her. Continuing to suck on her clit and lick through her folds as he did, he moved one of his hands in between her legs and slowly entered one digit into her. He could feel her lift off the bed and could hear the many moan and explicit words she yelled out, looking up at her with lust filled eyes he always thought this was one of the times where she was the most beautiful. Full of bliss and pleasure and almost at her orgasm.

Entering another finger into her and picking up the pace he could tell it wasn’t going to take much to push her over the edge, her walls had begun to flutter around his fingers and she was getting wetter by the second. Pulling his fingers out and slamming them back in he curled them in a come hither motion, knowing that she always fell apart when he did that. He looked up at her and saw as the pleasure crashed over her completely. Vic’s chest raised off the bed, she clenched her thighs together as much as she could, and she let out an almost pornographic moan as she fell over the edge. Her hands twisted in Wade’s hair and she could feel him sucking her clit all the way through her orgasm.

Pulling his fingers out of her he sucked them into his mouth, cleaning every drop of her cum that he could. He could feel his dick twitch and strain in his pants as he crawled up the bed to hover over Vic but couldn’t care less about it. Crashing his lips to hers, she could faintly taste her release on his lips and smiled into the kiss. “Was that worth the wait?” Wade asked her with a smile. “Oh most definitely. But now, it’s your turn,” Vic looked at his eyes and told him as she wrapped her legs around his hips and flipped them over.

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Part 2??

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Tag: @spider-pxrkers

#bellasmarvelwc #wade wilson #deadpool #mafia au #wade wilson x oc #ofc #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel smut #wade smut #ecpwrites

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