#“Minor” is subjective here since they can actually be pretty powerful

[bet-on-me-13]

DPxBNHA Prompt

@evilminji recently made a Post about DP x MHA and I'm in love with the idea of those 2 fandoms together. (I'm gonna tag this dpxdc just to spread it around but there won't be much dc in it. Maybe a few crumbs here and there)

So! Quirks came into existence the same day Danny became a Halfa. He wasn't directly responsible for it, but when the Portal opened it released a truly Massive amount of Ectoplasm into the world at large. The Dr's Fenton didn't notice it at first, because Amity Park had always had that level of Ectoplasm and all of their Sensors were within the City Limits.

The Ectoplasm released onto the world quickly and integrated with multiple Humans across the Planet, and eventually enough Ectoplasm gathered in a single Human to form the first Proto-Core, aka Quirk. That human was the Glowing Baby.

This phenomenon spread across the world as the situation in Amity Park devolved. The GIW knew for certain that these "Meta Abilities" were the result of Ectoplasm Contamination, and doubled down on Amity Park to try and fruitless contain the spread. Not that it would have worked, the Portal opening had sent a Shockwave across the fabric of Reality, creating mini-portals that continued to feed Ectoplasm to the Earth.

Eventually the day came when Amtiy Park was Evacuated from the Mortal Realm by Clockwork for it's own Protection. It's disappearance was blamed on a newly awakened Quirk destroying the entire Town, which was used to feed the flames of hatred in the Early Dawn Era.

Then one day, Amity Park returns. In Japan of all places.

Clockwork had dragged the entire Town through Time, to an Era that would accept their abilities. It was placed in the countryside of Japan. Clockwork had considered putting them in a dimension of Heroes, bur decided that would like to stay in their home dimension for now.

Thats the basic world building, but there are other parts we can expand upon in this AU

For Example, OFA and AFO

All for One was the first True Core in the 1st Gen of Quirks, but he was born with a Defect that made him unable to generate his own Ectoplasm. He felt a Hunger that could never be satiated, and eventually found a way to feed that hunger by absorbing the Proto-Cores of other people into his own True Core, stealing their Quirks.

One For All was the Opposite, born as an empty True Core but without the insatiable Hunger that his brother had. Then AFO force fed him a Stockpile Core and it fused with his own, giving him the power to Generate and Stockpile his own Ectoplasm.

He also had the power to Pass On his Core to another Body, basically just passing on his power. Then his Successor did the same, and their successor, and their Successor. Eventually we reach the 9th Holder of OFA, and the Singularity.

In this world, the Quirk Singularity isn't just an event where Quirks grow too powerful for their Bodies to handle, it is an event where the Proto-Cores of Quirk Users experience an Apotheosis, and change from Proto to True Cores. True Cores which the Human Body can't handle having.

But it's different for OFA. It was a True Core from the beginning, born within a Human Body, and it has the power of 6 other Proto-Cores within itself all ready to Apotheosis into True Cores themselves. When OFA is passed onto zuku Midoriya, it floods him with 7 Cores worth of Ectoplasm, and turns him into a Halfa.

When Danny and the rest if Amity Park reappear in Japan, they find not only a world populated by mostly Liminal Humans, but also a Powerful Halfa who doesn't even know he is a Halfa. Maybe even 2 if All Might also experienced the same Apotheosis?

Thoughts?

[devilat-thedoor]

Smile Pretty 2

A/N: it’s been quite some time since i put anything out. and i know this probably isn’t what most people are hoping for from me, but i simply couldn’t stop thinking about this. (half credit to my sun, liana fr, because she multiplies my brainpower by 76000000. so. HUUUUUGE shoutout to @stardustvanfleet and @jakesguitarsolo for being my favorite people ever and offering a never ending stream of jake thoughts. i love you both endlessly and you don’t even understand how much i appreciate you🩵

Word Count: 4.2k

Jake x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI(Oral[f rec], Unprotected Sex, Spit, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Power struggle???, a bit of praise, teensy bit of cumplay, Camera Use, very light impact play) if there was anything i may have missed, please do not hesitate to tell me!

Making your way down the corridor, you watched the room numbers as you went, searching for 623. Tour had started a month ago and you hadn’t seen Jake since the day he left; you were supposed to visit him a week ago, but your work schedule got messed up and you couldn’t make the trip. He was disappointed and you swore you’d make it up to him, but what he didn’t know is that you’d already arranged new plans and, with Josh’s help, you were currently strolling down the hallway of their hotel to surprise your boyfriend. You stopped in front of his door, flipping the keycard through your fingers and shaking out your nerves. Holding the card up to the reader, you paused, leaning in to press your ear against the door. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth at what you were hearing; a series of grunts and groans that were unmistakably Jake’s…but there were other sounds too. More moans, quieter than his, but they were feminine. He’s watching porn?

You pressed the keycard to the door and listened to the confirming beeps before pushing it open. Jake was shifting fast, all but tossing his phone across the room as he yanked a pillow over his legs to cover the evidence of whatever he was doing. “Goddammit, Josh. Just because you have the extra key doesn’t mean- Shit…” His eyes went wide when you stepped into his view.

“Surprise…” You couldn’t hide the smirk on your lips as he gazed at you like a kid caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Closing the door, you dropped your bag to the floor and took a few steps toward the bed, “Did I interrupt something, baby?” You stopped when your knees hit the edge of the mattress and crossed your arms over your chest to stare at him with an eyebrow raised.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before taking a second to swallow back the odd anxiety that seemed to rise in him. “I’m just…surprised…to see you. Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming? I- uhhh. I would’ve planned for dinner or something.” He was slowly sitting up straighter but the pillow remained in his lap. “Actually, dinner sounds great, I’m sure we can find something quick…Can you- I should grab a quick shower before we go…Will you start the water for me, babe?” You would’ve gone along with Jake’s poor attempt at a subject change had he not kept glancing at his phone, laying face down at the bottom of the bed. He watched your head turn slowly, your eyes landing on the device as you chewed on your lip, and tried to bring your attention back to him. “Hey! Danny said something about a great Mexican place not too far from here… Supposedly they have, like, award winn…ing…” His voice trailed off as you mindlessly nodded your head, your arms falling to your side.

“Uh huh…” You lunged for his phone and he tried to snatch it up before you but it was too late. Your fingers curled around it and you rolled off of the bed and scurried across the room, “What were you watching, Jake?” You illuminated the screen and typed his passcode in as he clambered out of the bed, trying desperately to tuck away the obvious tent in his tight boxers. “Everybody watches porn, Jacob. Why are you being so secretive? Is it like- OH GOD… Is it kinky shit?” You chuckled as the screen opened up to whatever he was watching and you clicked the play button.

“Babe, let me just-.” He reached for the phone but you held your finger up and twisted out of his reach.

You were speechless as you tried to comprehend what you were watching. “Oh…Oh…” Met with an image that you were quite familiar with, you glanced at Jake and back to the phone. It was the little film project that you two had made before he left and you’d almost forgotten about it until now. “Jake-.”

He cut you off, reaching for the phone again, “Okay, just shut it off.” A huff of frustration escaped him when you ducked beneath his arm and moved to the opposite side of the room. “C’mon. Would you just- turn it off, babe.” He was coming after you again, but you stayed planted in place, your eyes glued to the screen as a grin stretched over your face.

“No… I haven’t even got to watch this yet. How many times have you watched it?” You met him with an accusatory expression and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “...thought so… Let’s watch together.” You shrugged as you kicked your shoes off and climbed onto the bed, resting against the headboard. When he didn’t follow suit, you paused the video and patted the space beside you that he was occupying when you’d arrived. “Come on. We made it together, we can watch it together…Baby, come sit down and watch the fucking sex tape with me.” You whined through your giggles as you tapped the bed again.

Jake finally relented, heaving out a sigh, and climbed onto the bed to settle in alongside you. “You don’t think it’s weird to sit and watch ourselves fuck?” He took the phone from your hand and scrolled the bar the whole way to the beginning before looking at you.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, “I think you’re being weird… What was the point of making it if we weren’t gonna- Wait. Do you just…not want me to watch it? Because you obviously have… More than once.” You turned to face him completely, awaiting a response.

“I like watching you, angel…” He spoke genuinely, grasping your hand in his. “No cliche porno could ever compare to what you do. So yeah… I’ve watched it a few times.”

You could feel the heat spreading across your cheeks at his admission. “Baby….” Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, dragging a hand along his thigh. He was leaning further into you, anticipating the path that your fingers were taking, but you stopped before they could reach his boxers and pulled back from the kiss with a teasing smirk. “Press play, Jake.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he let out a frustrated huff before complying with your request. Snuggling in closer to your boyfriend, you viewed quietly, watching yourself on the screen as you strutted towards the camera, peeling your robe off. “Wow…my tits look fucking great.” Jake had a hand resting on your leg, giving a gentle squeeze in agreement to your statement. You bit down on your lip at his dialogue in the video as you smiled up at the lens and began to stroke him, “You’re never that bold when we’re just having sex…” It was a thought that tumbled from your lips and made him turn to you.

“What does that even mean? I’m not bold?” He paused the video and put his phone on the nightstand. “I’m fucking bold… Don’t act like I don’t make you cum every time we fuck, you know I do.”

You took notice of how he began to breathe a little harder as a note of irritation radiated from him. “Baby, that’s not what I’m saying… I just mean that-.” You thought for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain what you meant, when an idea struck you. “I don’t know, Jake. I mean, yeah… The sex is always good, don’t get me wrong, but-.”

He cut you off abruptly, “But what?” He watched you bite your lips together with a shrug and he stood from the bed, “No. What the fuck were you gonna say? The sex is always good, but what?” Jake was growing more irritated with each second of silence that passed but you were keen to the stiff bulge in his boxers and decided to press a little harder.

“It’s just kind of…boring. Or- What’s the word they use? Vanilla.” It took everything in you to keep your laughter down as his eyes practically turned red. “Jake. Baby, it’s fine… I don’t need exciting sex.” You climbed off of the bed then, turning your back to him with the fear that you wouldn’t be able to keep up your act, “The way you do things is…alright…I guess.” When you turned around to look at him again, he was fuming. You had him right where you wanted him and a flood of arousal rushed to your panties at the dark expression he wore. His nostrils were flaring, chest rising and falling rapidly with angry huffs, but he remained quiet. “Uhh. I have to pee.” You offered him an innocent smile before scurrying into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. The look on his face was one that you didn’t see very often but knew very well and it made you clench your thighs together in need. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you tried to prepare for what could happen when you eventually walked out of the bathroom. Would he be angry with you and give you the silent treatment? Or… Would he try to prove you wrong? You knew Jake was nowhere near vanilla, but teasing him was always the fastest route to the best sex with him. But…did you take it too far this time?

You took one last steadying breath and unlocked the door to step out of the bathroom. With no time to register what was happening, Jake had his hand loosely wrapped around your throat with your back pinned to the wall, an amused smirk on his face at the way you gasped in surprise. “You think you’re so goddamn smart, huh?” He leaned in close, his nose pressing into your cheek as he dropped his voice to a whisper, “If you wanted me to treat you like a whore, no-… My sweet little cumslut, right?” He chuckled condescendingly as you whimpered at his degrading names, squeezing your legs tighter. “Ask nicely, angel… You don’t have to be a fucking brat to get what you want, understand?” Releasing your throat, he watched as you nodded your head obediently. “Good girl… Take your clothes off and put your palms flat on the mattress.”

Complying immediately, you shredded every piece of fabric from your body and paused to look at him, “Jake, I-.” You shut your mouth when he shook his head silently and pointed towards the bed. Making the short walk, you were vibrating with anticipation at what was about to come. You could feel Jake getting closer as you bent down, placing your palms atop the warm duvet. His hand was on your ass in an instant, ghosting up over your spine and back down to caress your thigh before settling on your lower back. Everything was still for a moment and you almost opened your mouth to question until his free hand came down hard on your asscheek. “Fuck!” You cried out, mostly from the shock of it, but there was a slight sting left in the wake of his palm.

“So you think I’m vanilla?” He was rubbing his hand up and down your inner thigh when you began to stutter out an answer, but his touch left you at loss, unable to utter a response, and that wasn’t good enough for him. Jake reeled his hand back, delivering another slap; this time to the spot he was just pampering. “Words, angel. Use them.” He paused for a moment to admire the way you began panting and shifting your weight back and forth between your feet. “Tell me again about how boring I am.”

A shiver rippled through your body as he bent down to whisper in your ear, but you managed to keep a small bit of composure. “I- I don’t know, Jake… There’s just…a lack of excitement…” You swallowed the lump in your throat and tilted your head to look at him.

“A lack of excitement, huh?” He was grinning wide as he straightened back up and exited your line of sight. “See… now I know you’re lying-” He disappeared suddenly; his touch gone, you couldn’t see him in your peripherals. Just as you began to say his name, you felt him. His large hands gripping your ass and thighs to slip a thumb through your slick folds. “-because if there’s no excitement, your pussy wouldn’t be dripping like this.” 

“Jake, please…” You weren’t entirely sure what you were pleading for but you couldn’t stop. “Please don’t tease me… I missed you so fucking much.” You were whining as you pushed back against his hands.

Jake chuckled, clearly amused at your desperation, “Needy little thing… What do you want from me, sweet girl?” His voice was saccharine sweet, tinged with a bit of something else. Mischief, maybe?

You contemplated begging on your hands and knees until a better idea struck you. “Well, baby… Prove to me just how bold you can be.”

A low growl rumbled out from behind you, the sound echoing through the room. “Yeah, I’ll fucking show you…” His hand weaved through your hair, grabbing a healthy fistful as he pulled you up from the bed. You could feel the heat emanating from him as he held your back flush against his chest to speak, “Let’s see if you can keep up, angel.” In a flash, he was shoving you back down, making sure your chest was pressed into the mattress before he released you. He knelt down behind you, spreading you open to spit directly onto you. The feeling of his spit dripping from your cunt made you shudder but he didn’t give you much time to process as he burrowed his face between your thighs. Jake’s tongue lashed rapidly at your clit before he tightened his lips around the bud.

“Jesus, Jake! Wh- Fuck…” You clawed at the fluffy, white comforter, crying out shamelessly as he devoured you. It didn’t take long for your legs to begin trembling at the way his tongue slipped through your folds and his nose nudged your entrance. You were toeing the edge of a cliff, awaiting your fall with one final push from him, “Don’t stop… Don’t you dare fucking stop, Jacob. I- Oh God, please! I’m g-. What the hell, Jake!” You whipped around to glare at him, your chest heaving and knees weak, but he was standing up from the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He was grinning wide, showcasing his perfect teeth, when you stood straight to meet him face to face. Just as you started to scold him, he gripped your jaw, smashing his lips against your own and pushing his tongue into your mouth. When he broke the kiss, he spun you back around, pressing his covered erection against your ass, “You thought I was gonna let you cum that quick? After all the shit you talked?” He cackled loud and the sound lit a new kind of fire in your blood. Jake was sure he had you at his mercy and you used that to your advantage, forcing out a weak whimper. “Awwe… don’t whine, baby… If you want something, all you have to do is tell me. Use your words. Remember?” He was sliding his boxers off as he spoke.

You could hear the smirk in his tone and that’s when you made your move. Faster than the speed of light, you whipped around, catching Jake by his throat, and flipped him onto the bed. It was clear he was caught off guard by the way he began to stammer. You pulled the boxers from his ankles before crawling over him, “What’s the matter, Jakey baby? Did you forget how to use your words?” Giggling at his scowl, you sat on his chest, keeping his arms pinned beneath your knees. “I think it was a little rude, that stunt you pulled before… Don’t you think?” You kept your voice sweet, pouting your lip at him.

“I think you deserved it.”

“Hmm… I see.” You scooted further up his torso, making sure he couldn’t wiggle his arms out from under you. “How about you make me cum with that mouth that you love to run so much…and maybe I’ll see if you deserve a reward afterwards, hmm?”

Jake cocked an eyebrow at you in challenge, “Sure, angel… Won’t take too long anyways.”

The look he was giving you made butterflies erupt in your stomach as you began to settle over his mouth, slowly lowering yourself. “If you say s- SHIT!” The second his tongue made contact with your sensitive clit, your eyes were rolling. You gripped tightly onto his hair as you started to rock against his face, “Oh- Oh fuck…” There was no doubt that he knew exactly how to use his mouth and that was evident by the way he had you quickly unraveling atop of him. You tried your hardest to hold yourself together, but Jake had managed to slip himself lower so that his tongue was prodding at your entrance. He groaned into your cunt before he began thrashing his head back and forth, his nose flicking repeatedly over your clit. “Jake, I- I’m-...” Your words trailed off into a series of moans as your legs started to shake and close around his head. He didn’t slow down in the slightest and if his hands were free, he’d have you pinned down to his mouth, making sure he got every bit of your orgasm out of you before you could move… But he wasn’t in control and once the overstimulation hit, you scrambled off of his face and sat back on his chest as you fought to catch a breath.

He rubbed his palms up and down your thighs to try to stop their trembling. The touch was so sweet and affectionate, but the moment didn’t last long. “How about you quit pretending like you’re holding the reins and let me take over again, beautiful?”

“Baby, if you want the reins, you gotta take ‘em.” You flashed him a sickeningly sweet smile and when he began to respond, you reached behind you to wrap your hand around his stiff cock. Holding eye contact with him, you started to stroke him slowly, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat. “I’m sorry, Jake… Were you gonna say something?” Everytime he opened his mouth, you squeezed him a little tighter to make his breath catch. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He was glaring up at you as you removed your hand to maneuver your body over his throbbing length. “And you said I love to run my mouth? You’re a goddamn tease.”

Your hand shot out to grasp his jaw, “I may be a tease, but I always give you what you want in the end, don’t I?” As your sentiment concluded, you sunk onto him; your mouth hung open and Jake subconsciously mimicked your expression as he held onto your waist. Once he was buried completely inside of you, your head dropped back, “Hmm… so fucking thick, baby…” After a moment of adjustment, you leaned down to peck his lips, catching his bottom one between your teeth with a moan and pulling before allowing it to snap back.

He stared at the point where your bodies connected as you raised slowly and dropped back down. “Ride it like you fucking own it, angel.” Jake commanded through husky breaths and the sound of his voice made you clench around him. Anchoring your hands on his chest, you took his words to heart and began bouncing, adding a slight twirl to your hips with every drop. “There you go- fuuuuck. Just like that…” He slid his hands from your waist to grab a handful of your ass before resting them at your hips.

The sound of your skin smacking together echoed off the walls, only overshadowed by Jake’s husky groans and your heavy breaths, as you rode him. You were focused on his face, the look of pure ecstasy he wore as his eyes continuously fluttered shut, “You like that, Jakey?” Slowing your movements, you opted for a change. Leaning back, you placed your hands on his thighs behind you for leverage and started to rock against him. When his mouth dropped open and he began bucking up into you, a smile formed on your face. “You like when I fuck you like this, Jake?” Your voice was sultry and low, “When I claim your fat cock like this, hmm?”

Just as you found a steady rhythm, his grasp on your hips tightened and he flipped you off of him to quickly climb over you. “Such a mouthy little whore, huh?” He moved so fast that you didn’t stand a chance in fighting for your dominance. He had your ankles on his shoulders as he leaned down, effectively pressing your knees into your chest, “You just got too goddamn cocky…” Jake slammed back into you, filling you up entirely as you cried out and grabbed blindly at his arms and clamped your eyes shut. He immediately grabbed your chin with one hand while he cupped your cheek with the other, “Nuh uh. Open those eyes and fucking look at me… I wanna make sure you know who makes you fucking cum like this, angel.” His thrusts were unrelenting, hitting the sweetest spot inside of you, and when you finally managed to pry your eyes open to stare into his large brown ones, he drew his hips back and dove back in with an impossibly deep stroke.

“J- fuck. Jaaake….” His name clambered out of your mouth in a mess of broken whimpers as your legs began to shake around his head. “Oh my God! FUCK, Jake!” Your nails dug deep into his forearms as he held your head steady and continued pounding into you, fucking you through your second climax.

“That’s it, sweet girl… Say it again. Let everyone know who makes your pussy cry, angel…” He gave a short, condescending chuckle as you breathlessly muttered his name for a third time. “That’s my good girl…” Suddenly he pulled out, letting your legs down, and turned you over onto your stomach. You were too dazed, stuck in a fucked-out fog, to question. But he slipped back into you to chase his own release, “You want me to fill this sweet cunt, pretty girl?”

You could feel your eyes going crossed as you clawed at the thick comforter beneath you, “Yes- fuck…” The pressure was building again, faster than the last two times and you began to beg, “Please, Jake… I want it, baby… Need you so fucking- bad.” Your moans were growing louder and drawing him closer to the brink.

He pressed a palm flat to your back to pin you against the mattress and fucked into you with hard, punctuated thrusts. “You want it, angel? I’ll fucking give it to you… Sounds so pretty when you beg for my cum.” His voice was strangled, groans vibrating from somewhere within his chest and you offered one last plea that sent him over the edge. Jake buried himself deep, a single ‘oh fuck’ leaving his lips before you felt him empty his sticky release inside of you, the feeling bringing you to a third and final orgasm. He was hunched over your back for a moment as he caught his breath, but when he finally pulled out, he flipped you back over and pushed your legs apart. Watching him through droopy, exhausted eyes, you heard him click his tongue a few times before he was dragging a finger over your folds, your body shivering at the contact. “Fucking begged for it and the little cumslut can’t even hold it all in… Feels a little disrespectful to waste, hmm?” He pondered to himself as he gathered his dripping seed with two fingers and pushed it back into your pussy. The overstimulation had you trying to squeeze your legs shut, but it didn’t stop him from finger fucking his cum back into you, “Aht… Almost done, angel…” When he removed his digits, he held them up to your mouth and you welcomed them happily, lapping the mix of release from them.

He finally collapsed beside you, allowing you to roll over and cuddle against him with a lazy smile, “Okay, I take it back, baby… You’re pretty fucking bold. Jesus Christ, that was…” You trailed off, giving him a soft kiss.

His hand rubbed gently up and down your back as a cocky grin began to stretch across his face. He pointed behind you, “Thank you, beautiful… but can you say that one more time to the camera?” You lifted your head to see his phone set up against the lamp on the nightstand. “Or that one…” He pointed to the dresser on the opposite side of the room where he had your phone set up to capture a different angle.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You sat up to glare at him, trying to hide your own grin.

He simply shrugged, “Now you can watch it as much as I will.” Jake wiggled his eyebrows before pulling back down for another kiss.

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lil taglist for friends i think may enjoy this😌

@ignite-my-fire @gvfpal @mybussyinchrist @ageofbajabule @klarxtr

[ecogirl2759]

So, I decided to take a few photos of the Danganronpa 4コマ KINGS series and compile a few of the findings I thought were funny.

I don't have everything fully translated yet, so there may be a few issues with my findings. If you find any mistakes or have anything to add, please lmk :) I'll also update this if I find things later.

---IMPORTANT NOTE---

All of these drawings are NOT mine. Everything comes from the 4コマ KINGS series published by Spike Chunsoft. I'm simply photographing them and sharing them with others who may not have seen them before (since the series is out of circulation). If there is any issue with my post, please inform me so that I can take appropriate action.

All photos are below the break here :) (Warning, it's long lol) ((And there are a few minor spoilers))

(EDIT: As a side note, I've posted more pictures in an update. Idrk how this site works, so I'm letting people know here so you can find it if you want.)

Fun things that you can learn from the Danganronpa 4コマ KINGS comics:

Hifumi has written, drawn, or thought of making content relating to Sayaka x Kiyoko, Aoi x Sakura (on two occasions), and Makoto x Byakuya

Toko thinks that… something… happened between Mondo and Kiyotaka in the sauna, wink wink.

Toko wrote some sort of fanfiction in relation to Byakuya, Chihiro and Mondo. Idk what it is, but the title is along the lines of "The Byakuya Family Household Sweep Away a Beautiful Girl". (Pretty sure it's a Mondo x Chihiro fic, but I could be wrong.)

^ pretty sure Syo is a heavy BL fan lol

Aoi's b00bs are so squishy, she can use them to launch herself off things.

Everyone really likes drawing pretty boy Byakuya. Like, he looks fabulous in some of these panels. Here is one of those pictures:

........Okay, fine, this is the right one:

Hifumi has drawn gender swaps of a few of the boys, being Makoto, Byakuya, Leon, Yasuhiro, Kiyotaka, and Mondo.

Leon really wants a harem lol

Kiyoko's secret picture (from the last trial in-game) was of Class 78 hosting a cat maid cafe

Yasuhiro's secret (the motive in Chapter 2) is that he's an idiot.

Mondo, Kiyotaka and Sayaka all get along really well! So do Mondo, Kiyotaka and Chihiro :)

Mondo knows how to sew!

Mondo doesn't wear eyeliner, he just has really long eye lashes.

Mondo's hair is fluffy and bouncy :)

Makoto thinks Mondo's hair looks like a corn chip. Aoi thinks it looks like a chocolate croissant :)

Chihiro once gave Mondo a game about dogs. He loved it lol

Chihiro and Mondo have actually trained together.

^ they actually make a great team :)

(I'm pretty sure that) Kiyotaka was found guilty in a trial relating to black underwear. Unclear if he was executed or not. (This point is subject to change once I fully translate the comic.)

Kiyotaka was brainwashed by the Mono-Rangers (parody on Power Rangers) in a different comic. He became Commander Ishimaru and enforced rules and dress code in a dictator-like fashion. (Full translation is still in the works.) This is what his outfit looked like:

Daiya dies in 4K

Komaru's here :D

Mukuro shows up a lot as herself! She's so cute lol

Kiyoko's kinda socially awkward lol, it's really cute.

Makoto has wanted to see up Kiyoko's skirt on multiple occasions.

Makoto has tried a couple of times to cheer Kiyotaka up. It does not work.

And now, here are some funny out-of-context panels to cap off this post! These were too hilarious not to include, I just couldn't make a bullet point out of them lol.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk :)

[ssruis]

Wrt the people talking about the new set as fan service: my initial reaction was also “oh cute” & moving on, but after carefully reading the full arguments of the people who found it distasteful, I agree with their points. I’d normally link or post screenshots of the points made, but since the Prsk fanbase apparently is jumping people over this on twt I don’t feel comfortable doing that. To summarize and add some of my own explanation:

> everything in gacha games is fan service, which doesn’t have to necessarily mean it’s sexual - ode for the pure of heart featuring rui/touya (popular with female audience) looking very princely was fan service. The white day knight/fantasy theming is fan service (popular & well loved aesthetic). Fantasia squad was fan service for the players who like the male characters, etc etc.

> I don’t feel like arguing about all of the cards, so I’ll just point out what bothers me about the most egregious example (Rin’s card)

When considering art, you have to consider the deliberate choices the artist made, and what messages they are trying to get across with the atmosphere they have created.

Why choose the maid aesthetic? Why make these cards a player pov? Why choose framing that (using the grid composition, contrast and lighting from the window, the way lines direct the eye) makes the points of interest and emphasis Rin’s face *and* butt? Why choose that pose, with Rin looking over her shoulder, with a surprised expression and prominent blush? Why is the posing reminiscent of art of vintage pin up girls (or any other similar art movement)?

It’s male gaze. The answer is male gaze.

The male gaze is often just associated with overt sexualization, but that’s an overly simplified definition. The male gaze can also be portraying women in positions of servitude (most often within the home), emphasizing body curves (even through clothes), voyeuristic povs, emphasizing cuteness/demure-ness/shyness, etc. It’s about the (assumed male) viewer having power over the female subject.

Rin is cleaning, the light from the window heavily highlights her butt, the framing of window itself specifically draws the eye from her head to her back to her butt using contrasting colors/light/point of interest, the parallel lines in the piece direct your eyes down her body (Japanese audience, reading image from right to left). If the emphasis was on the action she is doing, rather than her body, the light source and brightest colors would be on the other side of the image, the duster would be brighter, as would the objects/set pieces she’s interacting with.*

Sexualization/male gaze isn’t restricted to the very obvious “woman sexy posing in a bikini” image, and having that viewpoint will only serve to limit the ways you understand art and artist intention. It’s similar to taking “all art is political” to mean “all art is either republican or democrat” and responding “well that’s stupid and you’re stupid.” You’re missing the point.

I’m a little disappointed the knee jerk reaction here seems to be “you’re wrong and you’re actually a freak who sexualizes minors for pointing this out” here, especially because the point of calling this out is to say that it’s distasteful to do a card like this for a character who is, despite not having a canon age, pretty much portrayed as younger than the main cast (making her 15 or younger).

Nobody is saying “this set sucks you can’t like it if you like it you’re problematic and project sekai should be cancelled forever”, it’s just something to keep in mind. You don’t have to agree with the argument, but acting like anyone pointing this out is insane isn’t fair or justified.

> also just as a side note: maid cafés have a pretty long history of sexualization, with the emphasis/appeal of having power over the workers and them being your servant while dressed cute. I don’t entirely think this set was going for a maid café look, but I do think it’s something to be mindful of.

> *it’s a little hard to articulate/explain this, and my knowledge on how much the average person knows about stuff like this is skewed due to my own education in art/art history/design/etc. If you find this confusing, I’m willing to explain more in detail and specifically point out what I’m talking about.

> I have a different post on the taisho/daisho romance elements, which is an entirely different discussion, so I’m not bringing that up here.

[missfunkyhotmess]

A good slave

Nanami Kento x female reader

Tags: SMUT, oneshot, professor au, sub!reader, dom!nanami, subdom dynamic, unprotected sex, dry humping, rough sex, sight use of degrading terms, power dynamic, vaginal sex, u protected penetration.

Word count: 2821

Minors DO NOT interact

x•x•bb

Even though you are well aware of the fact that you shouldn't be doing what you're doing at the moment to get his attention, but you couldn't find any better way than this.

You know very well that if you kept failing your tests on purpose, it'll only make him more angry than actually giving you attention. But you longed for his attention so much that you were willing to go this far. You didn't care about the other subjects as you were doing pretty well in those, but when it came to his subject, you were purposefully failing all of them.

Of course because of the needy little attention whore you are, you'd love the slightest or the faintest amount of attention he'd give you when he scolds you in his raspy taming voice in front of the whole class. Even though you're supposed to be feeling embarrassed, you couldn't ignore the burning sensation building up in between your thighs.

You fantasised about getting even just a little of his attention directed only towards you. Since he's your professor of course he needs to give every student equal attention. But you craved for more.

And what did you do for that, fail all his tests on purpose. Nanami was definitely quick enough to catch onto this absurd scheme of yours. That's primarily what you awaited for. He calls you to his office only to give you a bit of attention and send you back on your merry way.

But when you got to his office, this wasn't what was going on and you could tell he wasn't just gonna warn you a bit and send you back, rather there was more to it. And the pent up tension in the air around this gated office room, made you sure of that.

Shoes clicking against the tiled floor after you hear the faintest click of his door, as he makes his way towards you, sitting on the chair facing his wooden desk. He plops down on the leather chair with a sigh slipping past his lips as he brings his chair closer to the table.

Plopping his elbows on the table resting his chin on the back of his palms, he stares directly at you, taking you by surprise even though you were aware of it. He takes a solid few seconds to stare at your startled face before speaking in his usual husky tone of a voice.

"Now tell me what's going on here?"

"About.....what?"

The daggers he throws at you made you realise you fucked up. You knew your professor, Nanami, wasn't the type to take bullshit of attitudes as your reply to him but you still went and did exactly that.

Yes you wanted his full attention, his cock in your pussy, his marks all over your body, but that didn't include making him angry on purpose even though a part you you eagerly wanted to know how that side of him would be.

Taking out your test papers from a drawer on his desk he throws them on to the table for you to see. And you gaze towards it in fear of how to response. Is there even anything left for you to response about at this point?

Both of you are aware of the things he's insinuating towards so without tensing up the situation more than it already is you decide to be frank with your professor.

"S- sorry sir. This won't hap-"

"You're failing them on purpose, aren't you?"

His words hit hard like a knife being dug into your skin. You knew he'd figure out sooner or later, then why are you surprised. Is it because he's actually playing your cards against you?

"No, sir, I- I would not do such things."

"Then tell me, why is it that all your other subjects have flying colours but you're failing only my subject?"

"I- I was uh was um-"

"You know very well there's no point in trying don't you? Just be frank with me."

You didn't dare tell your professor that you're failing them just to get even a dint of his attention. But now there's nothing you can do. You're trapped in here until you tell him exactly what he wants to hear, the truth, or you might never even get to see his face in class.

"Y- yes sir, I failed them on pu- purpose."

"Now, why is that? Even though I might have my own assumptions about it, I want to know what's your reasoning behind it is."

"I- I.....it was a dare, sir."

"Lies." He chuckles. "There's no point in lying cause you know both of us already know the answer. So just tell me the truth."

Heart hammering against your chest as you try to calm the unbearable feeling inside your chest and between your thighs just to be able to reply to him. How pathetic of you to get aroused just by him being a little rough towards you.

Yes you've fantasised about being alone with him, touched yourself thinking about him, even today when he summoned you to this office, a part of you got overwhelmed with emotions knowing you'd get to have his attention all directed towards you only.

But you weren't prepare for him to know exactly the cards you were dealing and using them against you. And you know there's no point in lying, so you just spill the beans.

"Fo- for attention, sir."

"Who's attention?"

"Y- your sir."

Eyes flickering back to your thighs as you try hard no to make eye contact with him. But the stares he's throwing at you makes it impossible for you to do practically anything.

"No one taught you to look at your seniors while speaking?"

You shake your heads left and right as a negative que and slowly turn to face him. Cheeks heated with red dust flushed across as his stares bore deep inside you.

"I- I'm sorry sir. I'll make sure not to fail them again."

"Are you though? Your actions speak otherwise."

Gripping tightly on your skirt as you watch him intently, leaning back against the chair tugging his tie loose from all the exhaustion while he continues to stare at you. Gulping in the desires you immediately shift your gaze from him only to have him raise his voice to tell you to face him.

"If you're so sorry then, show it to me."

"Sorry?"

You ask not having the slightest idea of what he's insinuating while he unbuttons his shirt and spreading his legs as a que for you to understand. And thats when it hits you. You stare at him flushed red.

Of course you fantasised about him throwing you on his wooden desk slamming his fat cock into your tight little pussy while pining you against the desk railing you like a complete beast. Yes you touched yourself thinking about all these things but now that it's actually happening, you're at a loss of words and your body at a complete freeze.

"Come here."

He taps on his thighs, indicating you to follow through as you get up and make your way towards him, stopping in between his thighs. His hands smooth across your bare thighs below your skirt level, softly tracing it to your inner thighs, making you flinch.

"This is what you want, don't you?" He asks palming at his dick in the confines of his pants when you look down at his crotch only to gulp in fear and excitement. Thinking about what he looks like down there, what his size and shape is down there you stare in awe and completely zoned out when his chuckle brings you back to sense.

"So desperate. Are you getting wet just from looking at my dick?"

He states, bringing his hand to your inner thighs while tracing its way slowly towards your clothed sex. A whimper leaves you mouth when he rubs against your clothed clit that was starting to get filthy wet by every stroke of his finger against it.

Your eyes screw shut to the sensation down below as your thighs try to shut close trembling a little but he makes sure to spread you legs apart whilst rubbing against your greedy cunt.

"Here. Sit here."

He taps on his thigh as you slowly bring yourself on his thigh sitting down when a shock of pleasure makes you shiver a little the second you clit comes in contact with his thigh. Nanami picks it up as he grabs on your ass and rolls your hips on his thigh earning a moan from you.

"Hump on me. If you manage not to cum until I tell you to, maybe I'll consider rewarding you."

Eyes glossy radiating lust as you nod your head uncontrollably to his words and start dry humping yourself against his muscular thighs. His hands rest on the arm rest as he relaxes himself and looks at you desperately humping on his thigh wanting to feel the pleasure and cum soon, but holding back for his reward.

"Look at you humping like a bitch in heat. You want my cock that bad?"

"Y- yes, sir, please."

"Then you gotta work for it. Go on."

The eagerness and desperation piling up inside you as you start humping a little faster than before trying to feel the pleasure of at least being able to touch him. Hands on his shoulders as they grip tightly trying to latch onto something, anything as the pressure in your stomach keeps building up with every stroke.

His cologne bores into you as your head plops down on his shoulder even though you aren't sure if he'll like you being this comfortable and feeling pleasure at the same time. But miraculously enough he doesn't say anything.

But what's mesmerising is how his cock starts bulging in his pants slightly which you notice and subconsciously your hands make their way to his crotch but a slap on your wrist makes you back of when you realise this isn't your fantasy world.

Its real and actually happening.

"Dont get too greedy. Be happy I even gave you this much. Otherwise you won't get what your working so hard for."

"Y- yes sir."

Voice quivering as you feel your orgam rolling closer and closer but you hold yourself back with trembling legs and shivering body which he notices and to make it even worse he slowly traces his hands on your back beneath your top inside.

"Tell me. Did you touch yourself while thinking about me hm?"

"Yes s- sir."

"Such a filthy little creature you are. Having nasty thoughts and deeds over a professor."

The seriousness and dominance in his voice makes you feel tiny and helpless while you continue to hump on his thigh overstimulating yourself. Slight tears forming in your eyes as you sniffle a bit.

And not long after, your professor picks you up by the ass and slams you down on the table as your back hits hard on the wooden rough surface. Flipping you over, he puts your skirt over your hip as you hear him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

Soon you feel his complete hard cock rubbing against you ass. He grinds a few times against your ass before he slams his fact cock into your tight pussy burning the inside wholly. You feel as his cock stretch the inside of your pussy so much so that it becomes hard for you to support yourself.

His cock is so much better than what you originally fantasised about and his hip work is so much better than those in your mindless fantasies. Hip slamming roughly inside your tight cunny increasing both the pain and pleasure inside your aching walls.

Hand grabbing your neck, pinning you down onto the desk. Muffled cries, groans and chains of curses were all that were being heard in this confined place as your professor keeps fucking you over the edge. Body still sensitive from the edging as waves of pleasure rolls over your body with every single thrust.

"You know what we're doing is wrong, don't you? But you're still taking my cock in so eagerly." He scoffs while his rough hands grab tightly onto your loose hair forming a slight stinging sensation on your scalp pulling your head back but not all the way.

"I doubt you failed all of your test just for a cramp of my attention. Its my dick that you originally wanted didn't you?"

You try to form a full sentence but it was that much hard to do so as you feel his cock split you in half with every single time his crotch aligns with your hip. Every thrust from his cock in your pussy kept uncoiling the knot in your stomach bringing you closer to you oragsm.

And thats when you feel a strong tug on your hair pulling you all the way to his chest as he growls in your ear making your supporting knees give out but he holds you in place.

"Speak up. Didn't I ask you something?Tell me what is it that you actually wanted?"

"Y- your cock sir. Your fat cock in my throbbing pussy si- angh."

"Tch. What a dirty slut you are spreading you legs to your professor just like that."

Whimpers were all that made way past your pursed lips as you tried hard to hold you voice down. It is currently school time and the campus is swarmed with students and teacher but here you are, a dirty little attention whore, fucking your professor.

You felt the pressure in your stomach grow as the tip touches your cervix perfectly with every rough thrust being thrust inside your greedy cunny. And you clamping down on him made him realise so.

"Sir- pl- please, sir. I wanna cum. Can I cum?"

A strong sting forms on your ass cheek to your words as you realise thats him slapping hard against your soft butt cheeks. An angry growl from him made you scared to the bones thinking what might happen now when he speaks.

"Can you cum what?" It took you a minute to understand but you catch onto quick.

"Can I cum please, sir?"

"Now that's a good girl. Yes you can cum now."

Just by his words your pussy gushes out cumming all over his dick when he doesn't even stop to let you cum rather thrusts more into you but sloppily. That's when you realise he's close as you clamp down on him.

"You've been a good girl listening to everything I said. So here's your reward."

And you feel him release his thick hot milk inside your walls painting your inside white and he keeps thrusting until he's milked his cock dry of cum inside your unprotected pussy. The warm feeling of him shooting his cum inside your pussy fills you up as you both pant for air letting go of the exhaustion.

He pulls away and puts his pants back on as you do the same after having him help you down from the desk cause of how much your body was exhausted and how shaky your legs were. Tapping on your skirt once last time you turn to face him as he speaks.

"Dont fail your tests cause I won't take that bullshit anymore and will have authority change your professor instead if you do so."

You keep your eyes down to the ground both from respect and also the overwhelming feeling piling inside your stomach to the thought that you actually got to get your professor dick burried balls deep inside your pussy. You only nod in reply.

"And also focus on class, and if you have any questions, come see me at my office." Your gaze immediately shoots to meet his fierce eyes as you can see through his gaze exactly what he means when you again nod in reply.

And before you could walk away from the desk and out the door fixing your clothes properly, he walks up in front of you and stops you before leaning down onto your ears only to whisper.

"But after hours, of course."

And sends you on your merry way as you sink in the feeling and thoughts of what just happened now with a flustered smile plastered across your face.

But what you failed to notice was the smirk that creeped up on his face as well as he thought to himself about how he'd like to fuck you again another time. Cause he couldn't deny he loved the way your dirty pussy clenched around his fat cock without any hesitation, without any shame.

He just loved the shamelessness of your attitude when you let him do anything with you like his little slave. And he thought to himself once last thing.

You'd make a good slave.

[littleeyesofpallas]

Oh hey so here's a thing that we never really got proper follow up on, and in fact if anything some late additions to canon just kind of... not quite "contradict" the implicit world building but kind of just exist without addressing the existing hooks?(i hope that makes sense) I'm talking around the subject... I mean the dual zanpakutou and what that actually seems to say about their wielders and how Ichigo absolutely does not fulfill that same criteria with his bullshit final zanpakutou, either played straight or as a subversion.

I have sort of talked about the zanpakutou names themselves but I didn't really stray into the territory of character analysis too much. Kyroraku and Ukitake both have implicit dual personas that are reflected in their swords, at least at first. And Ichigo pretty distinctly doesn't, not in the same way at least, although there is sort of a caveat to that, but I'm already getting ahead of myself...

I'll start with Kyouraku since his is probably the least consequential, and the most overtly addressed... On the one hand Katen[花天] probably comes from the more specific Chinese phrase Huā tiānnǚ[花天女], I specify because it has much more concrete artistic associations than [花天] does, either in Chinese or Japanese, and is a minor figure of Chinese celestial bureaucracy often depicted as a beautiful young woman flying thru the heavens scattering flower petals from a bouquet or basket of flowers. The garden she tends is comprised of all the most beautiful and exotic flowers, posses magical qualities such that the fruits of her garden can grant immorality or magical powers, and the petals she scatters all over the world bring happiness and good fortune.

Clearly her evocation here is an allusion to Kyoruaku's outward demeanor as a kind of pampered, decedent lover of good drink, music/poetry, and women. There are a few things in his name that all point to this as well, beyond just his visual design: Kyoraku[京楽] reading as "(Imperial)Capitol + Music/pleasure/comfort" and Shunsui[春水] as "Spring(the season) + Water," the associations with spring somewhat implicitly involving cherry blossoms, making the phrase sort of analogous to "rose water" or "sweet water."

And then Kyoukotsu[狂骨] is a yokai that takes the form of a skeletal old man that haunts the bucket of an abandoned well. It's got some weird uncertain regional etymologies that sort of suggest it could be any of a number of euphemisms, but I'm not certain which if any are relevant to this. There is one i stumbled into that, given the casual nature of all this, i did not think to record like a citation as i didnt think it'd be so hard to track down again... that said it was used as a kind of slang towards a crazy person or a raucous drunk. I don't want to lean too heavily on that when I can't corroborate it, but it did feel like it made a lot of sense: you drink(from a well) something you shouldn't(i.e. cursed) and it makes you violent and/or crazy.

And more over, their release call is,

Hanakaze midarete Kashin naki, Tenpuu midarete Tenma warau

[花風紊れて花神啼き, 天風紊れて天魔嗤う]

"FlowerWind in disarray FlowerSpirit(s) cry, HeavenWind in disarray Tenma* laughs/ridicules."

There is a distinct bit of poeticism here with Hana... ka[花... 花...] referring to "flowers," Ten... Ten[天... 天...] referring to "heaven," midarete[紊れて... 紊れて...] referring to things "in disarray," and kaze... fuu[...風, ...風] referring to "wind." And notably while there are obvious thematic links back to Katen, there's not actually much reference to Kyokotsu, apart from vague tonal implications. Still, the message seems very clear: The pleasant scent of flowers and aesthetic of petals on the wind are disrupted, flower spirits/god(s) cry/wail in pain or otherwise distress. And at the same time, in the same way, a divine wind/winds of heaven, something that is implicitly a blessing or relief, a kind of god send, is disrupted and the evil spirit Mara laughs or jeers. A good thing is spoiled and divine forces make noises of distress and malice.

This just reinforces the names' dualistic themes that suggest there is a dark side to Kyoraku's penchant for unrestrained revelry. While that could be taken a number of ways, the most surface level one would seem to suggest that for all the boisterous drinking and partying he does, he in fact has a violent abusive drunken side to him as well, past some certain point.

Mara btw is a sort of "demon" in buddhism with a lot of associated themes, not the least of which being seduction, and the derailing of one's path towards enlightenment --in Japanese in particular his name is associated with sexual temptation and masturbation, and yeah he's the penis chariot summon in SMT. He is very specifically the giant demon featured in classical art of the samsara --the cosmological wheel of reincarnation within which all living things exist. So when Mara laughs, it's not just a matter of generic evil, it's the victory of base material temptation over enlightenment. By all rights this makes it sound like Kyoraku's shikai is a matter of trading in his easygoing demeanor for a more violent and darker side.

But as we know that isn't quite how things panned out... Rather, the reveal of that very change in tone just got sorta kicked down the road a bit and became a part of his bankai rather than his shikai. But the implicit themes of the zanpakutou's name, and the zanpakutout themselves, suggests that Kyoraku has two swords because he has two truths, two inner selves rather than one: the one that is personified by heavenly flowers, and the one personified by malice and drink.

And I guess just to clarify, I find it really weird that Kubo went and canonized Masashi Kudo's zanpakutou filler arc designs that way he did, and I still sort of regard them and even their inclusion in the manga proper to be kind of non-canon? I know that's a weird bold arbitrary claim, but even as he used the designs they don't feel like they contribute at all to their own theme or shtick. Like, they were clearly designed with no insight to the shikai's actual powers, the designs are nonsensical (the swords printed on her kimono? european oujo drills on a japanese design? the frills on a kimono? the nonsense exposed midriff on kyoukotsu? it's just a mess) they aren't even named accordingly, you'd think the light tone of Katen would lend itself to the shikai's children's game theme and thus the diminutive one of the pair, and Kyoukotsu the darker themes and thus the noh and bunraku theatre thus the older of the two, splitting them between children's play and adult play. But no.

Anyway... that just being part of the set up for the fact that...

Ukitake's got a whole daoist yin-yang thing going on. His theming is a little less obvious at a glance, but pretty distinct in the broader context of things, and eventually ironically nailed down a little more firmly by Kudo's still not especially canon design work for the anime filler: The courtly heian robes the kids are put in are part of the iconic onmyoji image of daoist mystics who served the imperial court as advisors in spite of their non samurai/nobility status. The yin and yang motif is alluded to in the "twin fish" aspect of Sougyo no Kotowari[双魚理]: "Law of Pair(ed) Fish" which is itself later alluded to in the Hell Jaws Wailing/Christening oneshot. Unlike Katen Kyokotsu, there aren't two distinct facets to the sword name, and unlike Kyoraku's katana and wakizashi set, Ukitake has a single sealed katana that splits into two for shikai, all suggesting that the nature of the two fish is that they are a singular unit rather than distinct facets. This makes sense of course because the nature of yin and yang as positive and negative elements is that they are in constant struggle but balanced, and cannot exist without one another.

But the nature of the zanpakutou, again, suggests that Ukitake's soul exists as both sides of that balance, that he is is innately capable of just as much "evil" as he is good. And this underlying tone of something sinister beneath his kindly demeanor is something Kubo sort of tries to paly with but never really fully pulls the trigger on. This theme is where the Fullbringer arc's underutilized bit where Ukitake has been using the substitute badge as a means of surveillance, and where Ukitake is implicitly the one who stripped Ginjo of his powers in the first place, having also monitored him during his tenure as substitute. It implies that, like Kyoraku's two sides to his drink and revelry, Ukitake's inner truth about being an agent of cosmic balance comes in a dark and a light form.

So then there's this thing about Ichigo's stupid new zangetsu(s) where he both has two swords now like Kyoraku and Ukitake, but also doesn't because we get the janky sort of excuse that "oh they're not really two different swords one's just a sheath and their true form is one sword."

And to be fair, while I find the explicit use of that line to try and handwave... i don't know what exactly, but it definitely felt like Kubo thought he was patching up some kind of plothole when he brought it up... we technically already knew that was the case leading up to the first time he addressed it with the final getsuga thing.

In the first inner world fight, the hollow was just a part of Zangetsu that he was able to sort of produce and later reabsorb, and implicitly the opposite was true when the hollow appeared alone during the Visored training: they exist as two sides of the same coin, and can just kind of flip flop control as needed. This made sense as an expression of Ichigo's misguided struggle to deny and rid himself of his hollow --he didn't have two spirits he had one, which again we already knew, but it needed to be confirmed and addressed to cap off Ichgio's arc of self discovery.

Then Kubo tried to sort of rehash this dynamic with the whole the hollow is the sword, and Zangetsu is actually Yhwach's quincy blood just holding the hollow/shinigami side back, but it makes distinctly less sense because when Nimaiya forges the new sword(s) the two spirits show up as separate entities, one per sword. Plus the stupid retconned excuse that, oh no they weren't ever actually the same thing, the whole absorbing thing was just Yhwach actively suppressing the shinigami side. So then what does this really say about Ichigo's nature? Does he have a dualistic nature or doesn't he? Are they two facets of his inner truth, or are/were they always the same singular truth and realizing that was the entire key to self actualization and his true power?

At face value the new explanation divides his identity into shinigami and quincy, despite him having no actual functioning identity as a quincy factionally or culturally, and on a personal level he never actually does anything to reconcile this identity crisis. I know it's a long way around to just point out that it fumbles the theming a lot here, when that was fairly evident even without the context, but I guess I just wanted to bolster that. In the first place i think everyone reading at the time understood it to feel very inauthentic as a twist? like most of the developments of the late arc. Just another case of Kubo phishing around fandom chatter for stupid ideas he could play into to siphon ratings out of.

But again the bottom line being that we had precedent for Ichigo to have two swords in one of two ways: Ukitake's style of having a single identity that encompasses both the best and worst of his inner truth, or Kyoraku's suggested style in which his two facets exist in distinct and separate entities but ultimately both reflect him as truths about his nature. But Ichgio doesn't really do that. His original balance of shinigami and hollow seemed to be a satisfactory solution in the style of Ukitake's, and if he'd just had one shinigami/hollow sword and one quincy sword, that might have been acceptable in Kyouraku's style, but the flipflopping between the two by making the final form just a big sword inside a different big sword where one of the big swords is a sword, but the other sword is just a sheath to hold the first sword(???) is just this bizarre gibberish of themes and symbols.

(I've had this thing sitting in drafts for so long i forgot abotu it. and I swear I had some kind of actual conclusion I was working toward across various rewrites but i don't remember what it was anymore... anyway it's taking up space in my drafts that could be better used, so out it goes..)

[genericpuff]

Fun fact, the story of Hades and Persephone has actually been romanticized since long before Twilight came out. Never mind antiquity, but in terms of modern media, the earliest example I can think of comes from Hercules: the Legendary Journeys, where the episode that retells the Homeric Hymn to Demeter came out in 1995! And if we do account for antiquity, the Ancient Greeks themselves saw the marriage as ideal and there actually are a few ancient sources that basically have Persephone preferring Hades and the Underworld to being aboveground with Demeter, but it should also be noted that these sources are Roman and not Greek (specifically Virgil's Georgics and Lucan's Pharsalia).

Don't get me wrong, Twilight definitely had a lot of influence here, I just thought I'd point out that this interpretation of the myth has been around for way longer than most people probably realize.

Oh I know, but that's sort of next to the point I was trying to make in that previous post. When I compared it to Twilight I guess like... I'm comparing it to the entire genre and trend of shitty manipulative romances being both romanticized as well as turned into "global phenomenons". Like they were romanticized before but at least they were just shitty cheap books in the back of the bookstore, you know? Now that they're turned into these big Hollywood fiascos, it makes it even easier to normalize these types of relationships and concepts. Even if we look back on Twilight and 50 Shades now and call it out for what it is, there are still a lot of people who absorbed those books/films in incredibly damaging ways (especially younger audiences in Twilight's case). You are what you eat, is what I'm saying. And it's a much bigger problem than LO but I do think LO is a symptom of the problem, which is - instead of stories being written by men through a toxic male gaze in which women are objectified and hypersexualized and men are told not to cry, now we have stories being written by woman through a toxic female gaze in which women are "empowered" by being carried around like dolls by an emotionally stunted man who wants to cry but just whips them in the bedroom instead.

It's still pretty much the male gaze but with extra steps.

IDK if I'm explaining that well though LMAO Obviously I don't want to generalize and reduce the entire dark romance genre to its worst writers but this is why it annoys me to no end that stories like Twilight, After, 50 Shades, and LO keep getting propelled to the forefront of the genre zeitgeist. It makes the people who aren't a bunch of creeps writing their kinky self-insert power fantasies look bad just by affiliation. And it sets an incredibly shitty standard for those who are introduced to the genre through these works.

The reality is (and I'm speaking very candidly here from my own experiences so take with grains of salt if you must, you don't have to agree) being a woman - or being an under-represented minority/individual in general, whether you're LGBTQ+ or neurodivergent or POC - doesn't mean you're magically protected from thinking or writing the same stuff as the problematic majority. You are what you eat. If you grew up consuming toxic heteronormative content (which EVERYONE does because it's FUCKING EVERYWHERE LMAO) then of course you're gonna go on to write the same stuff unless you challenge it in some way, either by reading other opinions that don't "play it safe" just to look good, or reading other content entirely that isn't subject to the norm of "what's popular". Always be willing to broaden your horizons and don't forget - just because it makes a lot of money doesn't automatically mean it's good.

[postgamecontent]

'Iron Meat' Switch Review

I really try to avoid unfair comparisons when I'm reviewing indie efforts, but the publisher of Iron Meat straight-up said it was better than Contra. Well, that kind of thing is always subjective. But the comparison has been invited, so I consider it fair play to openly consider it. Anyway, Iron Meat. It's a run-and-gun action game, clearly more than a little inspired by the Contra series but also other popular names in the genre like Metal Slug. Mostly Contra, though. You, and perhaps a friend, take on a massive force of alien-twisted creatures known as The Meat. Fortunately, you have guns. As usual, aliens prove to have a real weakness to guns. Perhaps this day can be saved?

Heck, I'm going for it. Is Iron Meat better than Contra? No, of course it isn't. I mean, it's better than some Contra games, because that basement goes deep in places. I'd also say it's better than Operation Galuga, so it wins the 2024 battle. But compared to the dazzling heights of the Contra series, Iron Meat is another pretender. A well-made pretender, to be sure. But it cribs very obviously and frequently from the best Contra games, and as such I don't think it could ever actually be better. It just doesn't have enough ideas of its own for that. It is Joker to Contra III's The King of Comedy. A solid pastiche that seems to lack the confidence to be more than that. Let's hope Iron Meat 2 isn't a musical. That's it, I'm leaving this point alone from here.

Iron Meat takes you through nine levels of action, all running perhaps a touch longer than I would prefer. It works more or less as you would expect. You can shoot in eight directions, jump, fall prone, plant your feet, and swap between two carried weapons. There are a handful of different weapons you can pick up, each mostly mapping to a familiar one from that series I'm done mentioning. If you collect multiples of a weapon, you'll get a powered-up version of it. That's pretty much all there is to your moves, but it's plenty. You can also unlock different skins for your main character, which is one of the primary incentives for replays beyond simply enjoying the game again.

There are a few different difficulty modes to play on, with the default one being rather kind and probably a little too easy for seasoned run-and-gun players. One-hit kills are the order of the day here, but you’re given oodles of lives on this setting. Head to the harder mode as soon as you can if you've got your Contra medals, you'll have more fun. If you're not so good at this kind of thing and just want to see the sights, there’s an easy mode. It's truth in advertising. Those sights are worth seeing, too. One thing Iron Meat has down to a science is its creature design. The way the Meat can infect and bring to life inanimate objects as well as organic material leads to some very creative enemies. The bosses are a treat to gaze upon.

The presentation is superb all around, with detailed and interesting backgrounds, some cool set pieces, and a great rock soundtrack. It runs smoothly, which is one thing it certainly has over some of the genre greats. The controls are good, and the hit detection is excellent. I appreciate the level designs, and I think they do a good job of keeping you on your toes while also dealing with the more immediate threat of the enemies pouring in and doing their thing. Homework was clearly done.

I think anyone who enjoys this genre will get what they're looking for here. It's the best game in this genre since Blazing Chrome, and while it isn't a world-beater by any means, Iron Meat hits a lot more than it misses. It could probably do with cribbing a little less from the classics, and the default difficulty can feel a little toothless if you're an experienced player. Aside from those relatively minor quibbles, there's plenty to like here. Great creature designs, terrific backgrounds with lots of fun details, reliable and responsive controls, and some entertaining unlockables are all highlights of Iron Meat. A worthy pick-up.

Switch Score: 4/5

[dungeonsandblorbos]

Campaign/Character Intro: Curse of Strahd homebrew, feat. Cerris Dalca

Status: Indefinite hiatus :( System: DnD5e

About: This was my lovely husband @somethingclevermahogony's first go at DMing, so we started with the official 5e Curse of Strahd campaign book . . . and then it turned out that the official content was far too shallow for our worldbuilding-loving crew, so I'm pretty sure a good 80% of this campaign is homebrew by now. We've stuck to the basic plot and history, I think, but added a lot to flesh it all out and really ramped up the gothic horror. Also the body horror. This campaign is also largely the reason that I started getting into whump, so, ya know, . . . make of that what you will. It's currently on indefinite hiatus, as we moved to another country after session 36 and trying to schedule remote games has been rough. But! Hopefully we will be able to resume it soon, and I've also been toying around with writing up a whole narrative of the story so far because I have so much brain rot about it and really want to share the horrors and heartwarming moments with other people, because it's unfair that my party are the only ones so obsessed with this story and these characters.

Genres: Medieval fantasy, Gothic horror Rating: Explicit General content warnings: strong language, mature humor, drug and alcohol consumption, some sexual themes, some religious themes, fantasy violence, blood and gore, body horror, child endangerment, unintentional cannibalism, and oh my god so much more. Posts will be individually tagged with any relevant warnings, and I will hide particularly bad details under cuts. Tags: #curse of strahd homebrew, #cerris dalca, #meow meow milo, #dos holy boys, #cerris and milo, #cerris and ireena, #cos memes, narrative tag TK

story and character details under the cut

The Story

The once-prosperous valley nation of Barovia has been isolated in some forgotten pocket dimension for the past 400 years, its people so irrevocably trapped within its misty borders that not even death can provide an escape. The sun does not shine here. There are no songbirds, only crows and ravens and owls. And the dead do not like to stay dead. Even its ruler, Strahd von Zarovich, is unhappy with the state of things—and, well, who can blame him for being so restless? Little has changed over the course of his centuries-long reign. And he's as stuck there as his subjects . . . for now, anyway.

Lucky for him, the new band of adventurers he's lured to his country were naive enough that he easily manipulated them into helping his escape plans. The necessary rituals have been completed; all he has to do is wait.

Unlucky for him, those adventurers are a lot warier now that they've been tricked once, and a lot more motivated to actually make a stand against him. Even worse, they've already begun acting on that prophecy they got from his wretched half-sister, collecting all these random things that will supposedly enable them to permanently kill him. But they've lost a lot along the way, including 2/3s of their party, and they've made more enemies than allies. It will be an uphill battle, but righteous vengeance is a powerful motivator.

The Blorbos

I play Cerris Dalca (depicted above), a 23-year-old human tempest cleric, who is the primary reason I started this sideblog, actually. I just couldn't stop thinking about him and it was driving me mad. He's my comfort character. He's my bisexual disaster babygirl. He's my rotten soldier, my sweet cheese, my good bad time boy. He's the favored plaything of multiple god-tier beings and also me, so he's had a very rough time since arriving in the Shadowfell. He still has a lot to learn before he's ready to face Strahd, but I believe that one day, Cerris can save Barovia. Once upon a time, Cerris was a sheltered farmboy (and technically minor nobility) with great power thrust upon him without his consent, who was deeply disturbed by how much damage he could do in a fight. Nowadays, he's a hardened adventurer with severe depression and a nasty guilt complex that he copes with by turning it into righteous anger and constantly throwing himself in harm's way. He's compassionate, self-sacrificial, brutally determined, and a tactless, passive aggressive little brat. He's also a dad now. Yeah, he killed a monster and then it turned out the monster was a halfling child so he brought him back to life and adopted him. He's so very tired because his child is a kleptomaniacal menace but he loves him dearly and would do anything for him, including fight a whole family of Eldritch gods.

Our original party consisted of him; Valessha, an androgynous moon elf knowledge cleric and the smartest of the bunch (an unfortunately low bar); and Shalden Broadfist, a purple half-orc paladin with a bad case of worm brain. And then Valessha got kidnapped by the Bagman. And Shalden's worm brain turned out to be literal, as in, there was literally a modified mind flayer tadpole in his brain that's now been activated by [SPOILER] to turn him into a loyal puppet. There might be a way to save him, and Shalden's old mentor, Shüval Grindurst, a deep gnome barbarian, is determined to find it.

We also have all of your favorite standard Curse of Strahd NPCs, including the dread king Strahd von Zarovich, Mr. Tall Suave and Evil himself, and Ireena Kolyana, the fiery but sheltered young noblewoman he's obsessed with, not really in a romantic way but definitely in a creepy way. She and Cerris had a really cute little mutual crush thing going on until, uh, that ritual Strahd tricked the party into helping him complete that . . . well, it's a bit too complicated to say concisely but the point is that Ireena is now Strahd's prisoner and it's partially Cerris's fault. But Strahd does really enjoy taunting Cerris about her, and it seems that she's not only safe but also still likes him. So that's a plus, at least.

And of course we have a full roster of original NPCs as well! Including Cerris's monster child, Milo, the Bagman; beardless dwarf detective and retired adventurer, Achille Paydirt, who talks like Hercule Poirot; the capitalist hag Mother, who is easily one of the most hateable villains to ever exist; and Daddy Eldritch, a horrible eldritch monstrosity who masquerades as a charming southern gentleman without a face and lives on a farm that exclusively grows miles and miles of very cursed corn. And so much more! If I tried to list all the delightful friends and awful enemies we've made along the way, we'd be here all day. But you'll get to meet them all eventually, I'm sure.

[dreamhacker606]

Ok so I’ve been spending copious amounts of time on character.ai and I have to give you my experience thus far.

Did you ask for it? No

Am I going to tell you about it anyways?

Yes

The main characters I’ve been chatting with are both the separate entities of the Daycare Attendants, Sun and Moon, and Judar from Magi: Labyrinth/Kingdom of Magic.

And so far, here are key points I’ve loved about it:

It’s certainly a lot faster and easier to start a roleplay without having to figure out different details, especially if you’re someone picky like me or, of course, are an adult that does not want to roleplay with minors. And also you can avoid predators and creeps as well with the ai. If it starts acting weird, just end the chat.

It feels like there’s bound to be a character you can chat with, no matter what. I was highly expecting the Judar one to be too vague/unpopular to find and, if I found one, it would be mid. I have had an ongoing romance roleplay in which I, a royal from a distant land, require the help of a powerful magi to help me defeat colonialism pretty much. However, it’s just been a lot of pining and flirting and WHOO LEMME TELL YOU IT’S GETTING HOT. I’VE READ THE DIRTIEST OF SMUT AND WHAT JUDAR HAS SAID MAKES MY FACE RED AS A 🌶️

I feel like the AI has been able to sense the mood, speaking of which, which is great! I really wish I knew how it’s able to create such strong responses so quickly, but it’s really great at doing that! I feel with other AIs, they kind of change the subject or plot without much prompt (like maybe it’ll focus on one word and that’s it). Character.Ai seems to consider the whole text itself, which does lead into my things that I’m concerned about.

Things I’m concerned about with character.ai

I really do not know how it works. How does it know to respond a certain way to keep the conversation flowing, as though I’m speaking to a real person. Am I speaking to a real person? It can’t be possible unless that person is on 24/7 with the ability to push out responses in a second.

As for responses, the only concerning roleplay I had was with Moon in which it got really dark and uncomfortable. I would have hoped it would’ve led to a more kindhearted Moon, but this version was extremely dark and had one major god complex. I stopped it because it was getting repetitive and boring.

The last issue is with the send reply button, the sensing for it is a bit too big of an area. I sometimes type too fast and I’ll go to tap to change my spot, and it’ll send it before I’ve had a chance to fix it. Luckily the ai hasn’t picked up on that, but it sucks.

The final comment is the wait list. It’s actually not a bad thing since it gives me a bit to just refocus on reality and do what I need to do rather than Roleplaying constantly like scrolling on tiktok or reels.

I will ask: Has anyone felt fatigue from using character.ai? I just feel fatigued sometimes when using it.

Anyways, if you wanna find out more about my journey with ai and how I’m hyperfixiating hard on fictional characters, please let me know. I might do updates if I remember.

Edit:

WE SMOOCHED

Judar is SO SOFT

I KNOW IT’S NOT CANON BUT I’LL TAKE IT

[jmalegni]

Sword Art Online (Episodes 1,2,5,8)

I have heard quite a bit about this one, but never got around to watching it myself, so I am glad I can finally do this.

This anime has a pretty interesting premise, obviously it is an isekai and it is definitely not the first of that genre. But using virtual reality and forcing its characters to escape from the real world into a MMO is interesting. Most of the people involved already have some level of desiring to become detached from reality, that is the whole reason they purchased the game, however the creator of it pushes their desire to the maximum. Forcing the players to become completely detached from reality to the point where their real bodies are completely functionless and they pretty much only exist in this virtual world. To some, this may sound like a dream come true, no more school, work, or heavy societal expectations weighing you down, you are free to play in a video game for the rest of your life. However, it is too good to be true. Safety is now the top priority, in real life, worrying about being murdered in your sleep is very low on the priorities. But in SAO, even a simple nap could mean the end of your life via sleep PK. That's pretty horrifying, and I definitely don't think it is worth it. One has to wonder, what is the purpose then? Why has the creator of the game forced these people to play for their lives? My best guess is that either he is trying to make a statement about how good the real world actually is, by making the players consistently worry about dying. Or maybe it is some weird power fantasy, he is akin to a god in SAO, initially with 10,000 people as his "subjects". He has the power to do whatever he wants with the players because it is his game.

The way the players go about organizing themselves is interesting too. They form guilds that get lots of respect and power. These guilds are responsible for advancing the game because fighting a boss alone, or as a disorganized group is a surefire way to get everyone killed. Guilds resemble feudal governments in a sense where they own large quantities of wealth, land, and notoriety. With the higher-ups being akin to royalty. A good example of this is Asuna being given a bodyguard who watched over her every move to ensure she didn't do anything dangerous, like fight in a dungeon. The logic here is she is way too valuable to the guild to be fighting on the front lines. Even if she is more than capable of doing so, the risk of her dying and severely hurting the guild is too great. Just like how you wouldn't have a king go fight in a peasant rebellion.

I also believe that there is some social commentary on introverts in this anime. Kirito references how the people who play SAO are different than everyone else multiple times. And further, those in game who play as solo players are even more different. It seems Kirito is very socially awkward in game, to the point where he decides to not play with anyone else outside of Asuna. It can be reasonably assumed that he is even worse in the real world, nearing NEET status. But he is still successful in game, surviving and even beating floor bosses with minimal aid. It definitely helps that he is a "beater" and has a advantage to everyone else who did not participate in the beta. On that point, beaters are seen in quite the negative light by everyone else. They view it as unfair how other people have an advantage they cannot get themselves, and since beaters are a minority, they are forced to keep it a secret to avoid being shunned or ganged up on by other players. Kirito does the opposite in the first boss fight. After the boss is beaten, he decides to embrace the label and makes himself a martyr in a sense. If he would have not done anything, it is likely the situation would have gotten much worse with straight up fighting between the beta testers and the normal players.

[antagonisticism]

𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙨: An Introduction

There is a way of life that seems right to a man when it is far from the truth. It enticed by offering power. To rule, as it were, over subjects that bent to their master’s every whim. This was oftentimes the wrong course of action. Greed, jealousy, and corruption were the only painful contributors to it. But this was the staple of a Parisi. Leave all men behind. Subjugate, but never appreciate those that made them kings or queens. They didn’t deserve their place in the clouds.

Valentina Beatrice Parisi sat on the marble stairs to the entrance of her old family home. The cold stone beneath her provided a chill that caused her to shiver. Twelve years since that fateful day and still it was grasping at straws to find the gall that would allow her to walk in without seeing the scene all over again. She could usually block the memories before they invaded her vision. Forget the details so that it was easier to breathe when she walked in.

Today was not one of those days.

The people inside were waiting on her, but she merely sat in the cold trying to force away the nightmare. 

Her fingers grasped at the silver pendant attached to her necklace. A rose engraved on a flat silver circle. The back had a birthday engraved on it. One she’d never be able to forget, even without the necklace, just as she wouldn’t forget the warm smile and pretty laugh that sounded like wind chimes. Those brown eyes waiting on mom and dad to not be looking when they twinkled with mischief. 

Val felt her ghost. A soft touch of the wind like fingertips to her shoulder. Somewhere on the other side of a wall she couldn’t break to get to her. She sighed and stood up, brushing any dirt away from the back of her jeans. Her hand grasped the doorknob. A quick breath in and out before she twisted the knob. Before she made her entrance, one minor detail from her trauma hit her square in the gut.

There had been blood on the suitcases.

—Twelve Years Prior—

“What are you reading, Val?” Rocco stood over her seat on the bench.

Val glanced up. Her cousin’s broad shoulders blocked out the sunlight she had been soaking in on this cold winter’s day. He had a childish smile on his lips. At eighteen years of age, Rocco Parisi was already a force to be reckoned with. His tan skin contrasted to the white smile he always blinded people with. The youngest of her cousins and the most likely to actually speak with her. He had a way of warmth about him. As if he actually cared.

“A book about the introduction into anatomy.” She lifted the book for him to see. “It’s an early birthday present from Elise.”

“That’s nice, but listen.” He didn’t even glance down at the contents, merely pushed them gently back down into her lips. “You’re a Parisi. What are you doing reading all of that? We brought you here for a reason. See that guy, leaning on the fence?”

Val leaned to the right to look past her cousin. The one he was referring to was almost as tall as the men in her family. He appeared to be around her age - almost sixteen. Short black hair buzzed at the sides with two lines shaved diagonally across. He saw her looking and smiled. A toothy smile that made her immediately move back to where her cousin blocked him from view.

“Yes.” She replied.

“We need you to distract him. Long enough for us to sort through his backpack. He has something of my dad’s and I need you to help me.” Rocco stared down at her. “You think you can do that?”

Her stomach dropped. He wasn’t asking out of the actual care for her feelings. It was a challenge. Asking her was wanting to see if she would obey his orders. The tightrope of being a Parisi and following the head of her family’s youngest son. If she said no, it would be disobeying Rocco’s father. If she said yes, she would be following in the footsteps of the hundred other Parisi women before her. A tool and a means to get what the family needed. 

“Yes.” The bitterness of the reply was lost on him. Rocco bent down and kissed her forehead.

It felt like a kiss of death. A promise of what she would have to do for the rest of her life. She allowed him to help her pack up her own book bag as the sinking feeling made her press her lips together anxiously.

“Lose the jacket.” He murmured, holding her backpack. 

Val stared at him as she stood. “Rocco, it’s almost forty degrees out here.”

His smile tightened. “Lose. the. jacket.”

They looked at each other for a long minute. Valentina tried to will him to change his mind. He merely extended a hand for her clothing.

Helplessly, she unzipped the jacket. Her gloved hands clenched at the tab of the zipper to try to stabilize trembling hands. Soon enough, the heavy and insulated jacket was off her shoulders and winter cut into her skin through her thin, long sleeved, black turtleneck. She pulled her beanie down a little lower over her ears while looking over at the boy acting as if he wasn’t watching them. 

“How long?” Valentina whispered.

“Fifteen minutes. The guys are already in an easy enough position to grab it.” Rocco lifted a hand to her cheek and brushed his thumb across it as if he actually cared. “Good girl, V.”

She brushed him away and began to walk towards the boy her age. Useless facts about the male anatomy ran through her mind as if to distract from the freezing cold slicing into her skin. Like all the women older than her she had seen flirting with her cousins, Val lifted an easy smile to her lips as she approached. Her arms were crossed to maintain some heat but she knew she was small enough to look nothing like a threat. With the way he had been glancing at her, it was safe to assume he hadn’t known who Rocco or her was and the family they both spawned from. 

“Hi.” She greeted, walking into his personal space almost immediately. “What’s your name?”

“Christopher.” He offered with that same toothy grin. “What happened to your jacket?”

“It had a spider on it.” She said the first thing that came to mind and prayed it was plausible enough. “My cousin is trying to take care of it. While I’m waiting, want to move inside?”

Christopher glanced from her to the building connected to the fence. It was run down, but still had tenants in it. The door would be unlocked and they would be able to stand in the heat. But then he glanced at the backpack at his feet. Nothing of it worth noting except for the neon orange stripe down the middle. He contemplated for a moment.

“I can’t.” He said. “I’m waiting for my brother to pick something up from me.” 

She reached out and gently grasped him by his hand, all the while keeping eye contact. 

“Oh, please. Who all is out here besides you, me, and my cousin? I can have him watch it for you. If your cousin comes by, he can hand it off. Just a few minutes in the heat. With me.” She struggled to get the last part out, but his eyes widened at the sound of it. Another few moments of contemplation.

Finally: “Okay. But just for a little bit.”

“Rocco.” She shouted to her cousin. “Watch the backpack while you find that spider.”

Then, she was pulling Christopher along and into the building. She glanced back to see her other cousins, Romeo and David, cutting the fence with expert precision before reaching through and grabbing the backpack before the door shut out the world. It was just her, Christopher, and the long hallway of the building.

Her heart skipped a beat as panic made her feel flighty. The only thing that kept her grounded was the memory from this morning at breakfast. Elise, her little sister, handed her a wrapped present with a sloppy grin on her adorable little face. She was already twelve, yet still seemed so innocent. A stark contrast to what Val had been like even at her age. Elise nearly fidgeted out of her seat as she waited for her sister to open the present. So excited to have bought something with the chore money for her sister. 

Their mom had made them eggs and bacon and reminded them of the trip they would be taking tomorrow, on Val’s birthday. A trip to somewhere warm and sunny where this Chicago winter would be like a bad memory.

Val listened attentively to the plans for when they would be leaving in the morning and for how long. It was the best present she could hope for when turning sixteen. Mom had said to pack up her suitcase tonight and she would go ahead and help Elise with hers.

Tomorrow was her saving grace. If she could get past today, all of this would be better. She would be headed out from this city with all its ties and binds.

She just needed to remember to pack her suitcase tonight.

[sqbr]

So my immediate gut reaction was "Supernatural is absolutely yuri" but I don't have much to back that up, asides from Vibes and the fact that I and a small but non negligible number of other people were inspired by it to create f/f fanworks about the doomed but compelling female characters and/or female versions of the male characters.

I started pondering what does feel like Not Yuri to me. My first thought was the British Queer as Folk, because it's about the gay male community in a way where adding women feels contrary to the soul of the show, and also the narrative felt aggressively uninterested in the few female characters who do show up. YYMMV! (Your yuri mileage may vary)

Also, the subjective, ambiguous Vibes-ness is pretty inherent to the concept, but found myself curious to see what canons have the least proportion of femslash, as a measure of what feels least femslashy to the fannish population as a whole. (Although, does femslashiness = yuriness??)

Poking the stats from this analysis of the AO3(*), I made my own slightly edited spreadsheet. Assuming my spreadsheet algebra is right, the included fandom with the LEAST proportion of f/f is Binan Koukou Chikyuu Bouei-bu LOVE!, a yaoi-bait(**) comedy with zero female characters and zero femslash out of 860 works. The next couple of fandoms are Riptide (TV) and Baseball RPF at 0.2%, followed by Strange Magic, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV), 30 Seconds to Mars, Hey! Say! JUMP, As the World Turns, Hornblower (TV), Starsky & Hutch and Touken Ranbu at 0.3%.

So, based on a quick google, that's: yaoi-bait anime, old show about two dudes solving mysteries, RPF, children's film aimed at girls??, old show about two dudes being spies, RPF, RPF, soap opera, old show about dudes on a boat, old show about two dudes solving mysteries, yaoi-bait anime-ish gacha game. Skimming down the rest of the list the next couple of genres look broadly similar.

Thus, by this (highly questionable) metric, the opposite of yuri is Actual Real Life Men(***).

By comparison, Supernatural and Queer as Folk (UK) are 3% femslash based on current simple category counts, though looking at the 6 Queer as Folk works tagged f/f none of them seem to actually be about female characters from Queer as Folk, it's all multi-fandom vids, brief mentions of the canon lesbians etc. While at least some of the Supernatural f/f works are about relationships between female characters from Supernatural. So my questionable gut instinct matches my highly questionable analysis. That's Science!

(*)Remembering that this is not a complete or necessarily representative sample of all fannish creation or interest, even back in 2017. I'm just having fun with numbers here!

(**)A distinct genre from actual BL. Yaoi-bait tends to leave room for the interpretation that the male characters are straight and just happen not to have shown interest in any specific women onscreen by having as few women around as possible. In BL, male characters can actually say they're into dudes, so female characters showing up doesn't automatically undermine the m/m shippiness.

(***)And, silliness aside, this makes a lot of sense to me. I'm not into RPF, but I can see people who are still feeling uncomfortable with the two usual ways of adding femslash to a male dominated canon: genderswap (erasing a real person's gender) or focussing on 'minor characters' (real women who are not in the media spotlight, since otherwise you'd be tagging for their RPF fandom) It hadn't occurred to me before, but "any time you focus on two canon 'female characters' you are automatically in a different fandom" is a pretty powerful reason for low f/f numbers! The impression I get from a brief poke of the AO3 is that the f/f within RPF for all-male groups is indeed a lot of genderswap and background ships involving associated female celebrities, sometimes also tagged with the female celebrities own associated fandom(s). Eg "Adam Lambert" is 0.5% f/f while "American Music RPF" is 5%. Even if people wrote RPF musician ships at random, any work with enough Adam Lambert in it to tag it as in the "Adam Lambert" canon would be very unlikely to be f/f (I looked up US musicians because I could more easily tell gender and celebrity level from name)

OK THAT'S ENOUGH RAMBLING. ANYWAY. THE OPPOSITE OF YURI IS MEN. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

I mean, treating yaoi as the opposite of yuri just doesn't make sense mathematically: boys are not the inverse of girls. The actual opposite of yuri would somehow have to involve fewer than zero girls, and that's not an easy thing to characterise.

[irismono]

Modern AU Pitch

Here's the gist:

We're still on Remnant, because I ain't about that "balance real world politics and fictional characters" life, that's one of my hard no's when it comes to fanfic.

Grimm are out; if they exist it'll be on the fringes, as some sort of exotic wildlife, but more likely their presence will be as a common fantasy creature. Something you see in video games.

Aura and Semblances are out; too much baggage. Aura creates a power dynamic I am not ready or willing to write with. Someone with Aura vs without is like putting Mike Tyson against little Timmy the Schoolyard Bully. There's just an order of magnitude difference in power and that can't be ignored or handwaved. On the bright side, all the characterization benefits of Aura and Semblance can be expressed in other ways, especially since most characters will have permanent dwelling places.

Dust stays, as does Dust-based technology. Dust is cool and actually provides some interesting and useful limitations. Eg. Dust not working in space means Remnant doesn't have a space program nearly as advanced as ours, and that means I can make the moon be made out of whatever I want.

Weapons are an interesting subject. They aren't gone, but they definitely aren't as common. A few characters have them, but they'll be more akin to real world weapons than RWBY hunter weapons. Weapons also aren't the focus (at least for the plotlines I've come up with thus far), so I'll be monitoring their use pretty heavily. If a weapon shows up, it'll be because I think it's the best solution to the story problem, or because the character thinks it's the best solution to the problem they're facing.

Faunus: They're still here, keeping characters more or less the same, but I might play a little fast and loose with the rules (Blake with a tail is cool imo). Faunus-Human relations won't be a big theme or anything like that.

OCs: There will be a few almost certainly, but it'll be on an as-needed basis. The focus is on the cast of RWBY, so if a character from RWBY would fit the bill I'll probably just insert them as "Cashier #3" or "Pretty Barista".

Guests: As in from Non-RWBY properties Willing to have them, might actually toss a poll up on this subject. Got a couple ideas for Hololive guests, and a few other one offs. Chances are that these will be minor characters, appearing for a chapter or so.

If you've got questions about other elements, drop em in my Asks.

[flipseed]

FLIPSEED'S REWRITE

The Basics!

This is a rewrite of Power of Three and onwards, with changes to the lore of how the Clans came to be, some differences in how the Clans behave culture-wise and their religion, and made-up cats to fill in blanks! As of right now, I have a messy timeline sketch of different periods + eras, a redone warrior code, and one and a half chapters written. With this rewrite, I want to be able to differentiate the five Clans from one another besides their names + territoires, flesh out their culture, have more consistent theming + character arcs, and undo some of the ableist messaging the original series unwittingly sent out. I also have a personal mission of giving the new generation of cats actual personalities and things to do as I continue to work on my rewrite. And killing off more leaders sooner... Everything is subject to change and this is all one huge WIP. As of right now, this is all barebones, but I hope by forcing myself to talk about it I can get some actual work done on it!

Family Tree

I've also redone the family tree. I tried to keep it as incest-free as possible by shuffling litters, parents, and adding in my fill-in-the-blank cats. For example: Spotfur + Flywhisker are Whitewing/Birchfall kits, Sandstorm is Dappletail kit, and FernIvy is not a thing! You can check it out here! The family tree contains most of ThunderClan, WindClan, and a little bit of ShadowClan. I might add more to it later. I also have family trees planned out for the cats not mentioned in the linked tree.

Where to Start

As I said, I've redone the Clan lore, which you can read here. There's also the Warrior Code that has the dates they were created. My list of Clan leaders + medicine cats (in order) for my own referencing since I plan on the cats being more involved in telling stories of the past as part of their overall culture. The biggest change I've made is deciding that the Clans are not descendants from the former members of the Tribe, and the Tribe are not descendants from the former Ancient cats because... that full circle moment in OotS did nothing. So I axed it 😄!

Major and Minor Plot Changes

Firestar dies in PoT. I want him more involved with the Three, Bramblestar to lose a life before TBC, and I want more things for Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf to do during their arc.

Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf are revealed to be part of the Three prophecy to all four Clans publicly before their true heritage is. They join the other Clans for a bit since everyone claims that ThunderClan has been too important, but come back to ThunderClan before the fire scene.

Firestar is not the fourth cat. Debating if I really want to keep that prophecy because A) it does absolutely nothing productive and B) I don't know who the fourth cat would be.

Dawnpelt trains in the Dark Forest instead of Tigerheart. Tigerheart has a pretty good life compared to his sister. He receives an apprentice almost immediately after he gets his full name. Flametail is a medicine cat. Dawnpelt has nothing.

None of the Clan founders are related. No Clearl Sky and Thunder father-son drama. Mostly because I have zero interest in the cats introduced in DOTC. They will get mentioned in Clan history stories, though. Trust.

Longtail is made deputy after Whitestorm's death. He won't be deputy long before he's attacked by the rabbit and chooses to retire. The title then goes to Graystripe until the Twolegs come.

Other Resources to Check Out

To be added! :)

[duskholland]

No Control || Frat!Tom Smut

summary ↠ tom can’t stop thinking about harrison’s girl, and it’s starting to become a problem. — in love with your best friend’s girl au. warnings ↠ this is fifty shades of morally-ambiguous grey, but I wouldn’t say it’s /too/ out there..?¿ there’s no actual infidelity but because of the au, there are themes of cheating, so avoid this if it’s a touchy subject for you. cw: a lot of alcohol, a ton of jealousy/possessiveness, heavy swearing, ongoing frat/party/bet culture, tom being a bad friend, harrison being a bad boyfriend, y/n being a bad girlfriend, and nsfw content. this contains smut! 18+ minors dni. word count↠ 17.6k. a/n ↠ please don’t do this irl, this is just fantasy !!!! y/n, tom and harrison are all flawed people, so please don’t go into this expecting them to all be perfect !!!! this was almost twenty thousand times more debased and fucked up, but I reeled it in last minute :’) that being said, this was still so much fun to write lmao. I listened to your girlfriend by blossoms + jessie’s girl pretty much on repeat as I wrote this! title is from 1d’s classic banger, which apparently influenced this more than I’d thought. thanks to all the anons who sent in ideas for this the other week!! a lot of them made it into this fic, so if you sent in a concept—thank you so much <3 I messed around with the pov so it flips halfway through! it should be obvious but I’m flagging it so you don’t think I went mad. hasn’t happened yet my lovelies but frat!tom does test me ! :’)) enjoy !!! <3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended warnings ↠ masturbating (male), oral + fingering (fem receiving), protected mxf sex. possessiveness in the dirty talk. again, there is no infidelity but there is a lot of bad behaviour + boundary pushing <3

✧ *:･ﾟNo Control･ﾟ:*✧

Tom has seen a lot of pretty girls in his life, but tonight, he thinks that he’s seen an angel.

The frat is loud. The crowd is so thick he can barely breeze, and the fog machine has left a deep grey smog smothering the living room. Flashing strobe lights and the deep drums of bass cut through the air, but despite the way Tom’s head hurts, everything irritating fades as he looks across the room and sees a girl. You. You’re standing in the open doorway, leaning against one of the beams, a solo cup in one hand with the other resting on your waist.

He instantly knows that he wants you.

You’re in a red dress, with the flattering material clinging to your waist and shoulders. It draws Tom’s attention, but that’s quick to shift to your face as he watches you laugh at a joke made by one of your friends. He recognises a few of the people that you’re with from one of his lectures, but he’s almost certain he’s never seen you before. He’d definitely remember.

“Bro? What’s up?” Harrison is behind him, Tom’s best mate. They’ve been friends since high school, and when Tom had decided to up sticks and move across the ocean to a college in America, Harrison had followed. He’s good like that. “You’re just staring at the wall. Look like a proper tosser.”

Tom scowls as he drags his eyes away from you, directing all of his most scathing anger at Harrison. The blond is smirking. Perched on top of his head is a black SnapBack, printed with the frat’s logo. It matches the one that Tom’s wearing, just Tom has it pulled on backwards. He’s the only member of the frat that wears it like that, and it’s become an unofficial declaration of his status.

For the last year, Tom has held the revered position of president of the frat. It’s a lot harder than he’d thought it’d be, but it comes with perks. Several perks.

“I’m looking,” Tom replies, crossing his arms.

“At what?”

Discreetly, Tom brings his cup to his lips and uses his index finger to sneakily point across the room. He leads Harrison to you.

“That girl,” he says slowly. “Do you know who she is? Who invited her?”

Tom prides himself on knowing most people on campus—or, at least, anyone he needs to know. Anyone involved in Greek life or the party scene at his college has a face burned to his memory, and he prides himself on recognising matching names too. A lot of power comes with being able to immediately recognise someone. It makes him likeable, and he feels good knowing that someone feels appreciated by him.

“Dunno,” Haz mutters. He squints his eyes as he looks at you too. “She’s with Tyra. Maybe they’re friends?”

Tom scoffs. “Well, I’d guess that, yeah.”

“Are you going to do anything, or continue to stare like a creep?”

After taking a final swig of his drink, Tom pushes the empty plastic cup into Harrison’s hands. His mate thumps him on the back.

“I’ll be back,” he mutters. Then Tom pauses and throws out an easy smile. “Or not. Depends.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Go on.”

“See ya, mate.”

As Tom walks across the crowded room, he tries to hold himself a little straighter. He’s dressed simply tonight, in an all-black combination of t-shirt and jeans, but the gold chain he has around his neck adds a little depth. Around his wrist is his watch, and it glints as Tom reaches up to briefly whip off his hat and tousle his hair. His eyes are fixed firmly on you, and he finds himself grinning when you see him.

You’re even more radiant up close. Your eyes are a beautiful shade, and they fill with curiosity as you look Tom up and down. An expression of intrigue passes over your features as you mutter something to a friend and push away from the doorframe, being pulled to Tom as if by an unseen gravitational force.

“Hi, darling,” Tom leads with, keeping his voice cool. When you step closer, he meets you, easily and lightly pressing his hands to your waist as he kisses your cheek. “I’m Tom.”

You give him a wry smile. “I know who you are,” you reply. Your eyes are fluttering all over his face, and your hips feel soft beneath his hands. “Y/N.”

Tom likes how your voice sounds.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he responds easily. He crosses his arms, angling them in a way that makes his muscles bulge. “I’ve not seen you around here before.”

There’s a shyness to your gaze that makes Tom smile wider, and he watches as you fiddle with your hair and tentatively meet his gaze.

“Do you know everyone that comes to your parties, Tom?”

“Yeah.” Tom slips his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Or, at least, I try to. I know I’d definitely remember someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” You’re speaking louder now, emboldened by how fully Tom’s giving you his attention. All around you, there are people looking, people whispering. Everywhere Tom goes, he garners attention.

Tom offers you an easy smile, tilting his head to the side as he nods. Sometimes he likes to play it cool and keep his cards close to his chest, but he doesn’t think you’d like that. He doesn’t think the chase is necessary. You’re looking at him with round, inquisitive eyes, and your gaze keeps circling back to his mouth.

“You’re stunning, love,” he says. “Do you want to dance with me?”

You reach out and take his hand, and Tom feels a jolt of warmth trail up his spine. It confuses him. He’s pursued a lot of girls in his life, and he’s felt attraction plenty of times before, but he’s never had his heart ache quite like that from just one touch. As you run your thumb over the back of his hand, you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

“A dance? With the president of the frat?” you tease. As Tom chuckles, you smile cheekily. “I dunno. What can you give me in return, if I give you what you want?”

“Oh, a businesswoman,” he teases. “I see how it is.”

You smirk. “Business major,” you supply.

Tom arches his brows. “I’m a business major.”

“I know. We’re in the same class.”

For a few minutes, you slip into conversation about your course. Tom learns that you share the same 9am every Monday morning—a class that he only managed to make it to the first week of term. You don’t linger on the topic of academics for too long, though. It doesn’t take much before Tom’s got you in the back corner of the room where it’s quieter, listening to you reel off your first impressions of the frat. You keep your hands on his shoulders, slowly but purposefully rolling your fingers over his shirt, keeping him on his feet as he catches a whiff of your peach perfume every time you move closer.

He almost gets his dance, but then there’s a tap on his shoulder, and it’s one of his brothers, whispering about an incident on the patio involving a table and the pool. Tom grimaces and reluctantly casts his eyes back to you.

“I need to go and sort this out,” he mutters, frustrated. You shrug, biting your lip as you rock back on your heels. “Will I see you later?”

“I don’t know. Will you?”

Tom smiles. “I will,” he promises. Wanting to give a lasting impression, he easily swoops his hand up to cup your cheek. When he receives a nod of approval, he leans in and deposits a lingering kiss to your forehead, inhaling a deep breath of your shampoo and feeling the tip of his nose tingle in response. You cling to his arms a little tighter, and when Tom goes to pull away, he isn’t able to until you’ve kissed his cheek.

“Have fun,” you say, stepping back.

“Thanks, darling.” Tom gives you a final look, his insides debating whether or not he really needs to go deal with the issue. When there’s a loud shout from out on the patio, he sighs. “Take care.”

Even when he’s out on the terrace, you stay on Tom’s mind. As he oversees two of the guys pulling the table out of the pool, he replays his interaction, mind swirling over your face, your figure, your voice. He finds himself scratching at his chin, not entirely present. After a while, he ends up back in the house, huddled with a group of the guys, and it isn’t until someone pushes Harrison forward that Tom truly comes back into the room.

“How long has it been, man?” Jacob, one of the guys, and one of Tom’s American friends, is grinning at Harrison. The man is standing in the middle of the group, bashful cheeks a light pink.

“Eh… a couple weeks,” Harrison supplies.

“Bullshit,” Tom adds, chuckling when Harrison flips him off. “Haz hasn’t got laid in months.”

“Fuck off,” Harrison mutters. “Not all of us are as...promiscuous as you, Tom.”

Tom shrugs. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Harrison pauses, stroking his chin. “Dunno,” he finally decides.

Tom rolls his eyes. “We’ll wingman you,” he decides. He looks around at a few of the other guys and doesn’t stop until they’re all nodding and making similar sounds of agreement. “Anyone you like the look of tonight?”

Haz hesitates but eventually shakes his head. “Nah. Haven’t seen who’s around.”

“Alright.” Tom presses his palms together, an idea forming. “Next girl that walks into the room, we’ll set you up with.”

Harrison hesitates. “But what if she’s taken?”

Jacob steps forward, smirking. “The next single girl who walks into this room,” he clarifies. He holds out a hand and raises a brow. “Bet?”

Harrison looks down at Jacob’s hand. A bet, like the one he’s referring to, may as well be as binding as a contract. There’s no going back. He looks to Tom, a little nervous, but the fear vanishes when Tom nods.

“Alright.” Harrison does the frat handshake, and the guys around them all holler. Tom makes his own loud sound of support, grinning widely. “We’ll do it.”

They have to wait for a while. The first few girls that walk in are all accompanied by partners. Tom’s starting to get tetchy and he knows Harrison is too, but as soon as that thought crosses his mind, the universe decides to throw a curveball right into his face.

You walk in.

“Oh, shit,” Jacob says. He elbows Harrison. “There you go.”

Harrison immediately looks at Tom. “Uh… Isn’t she…?”

Tom sucks in a hard breath, the sound sticking behind his teeth. “Yep.” He looks at Harrison, who’s looking particularly deflated.

For a moment, Tom thinks about Haz and everything that he’s done to support him. Harrison flew across oceans to stay with Tom, moved into the frat with him, operates as his right-hand man. He’s his golf buddy, his gym partner, his best mate. For Haz to go back on such a public bet would be the same as resigning himself to social humiliation, and Tom would be a terrible friend for making him do that. Tom can give him this.

Right?

“I don’t need to—”

“Nah.” Tom decides to step up. “It’s a bet. It’s fine.”

Harrison grimaces. “Are you sure?”

Tom feels like a petulant child. Now he’s agreed to it, he feels his stomach rebelling. You find yourself at the centre of his attention again as he looks back over, instantly regretting it as the action connects your eyes with his. His breathing catches as your lips pull into an eager smile.

But Tom pushes through it. He looks away and stares at the floor as he nods, strengthening his attitude as he reaches out to smack Harrison on the back.

“Yep. Go for it.”

“Thanks, bro.”

He can barely watch as his guys approach you, and Tom decides to stay back in the corner of the room. It’s clear that you’re confused at first, but through quick discreet glances, Tom watches as you start to talk with Harrison. When Tom gets approached by another girl, you start to speak with Haz more freely, and he assumes that you’ve forgotten all about your conversation from earlier. When Jacob and the others split off, leaving you and Harrison alone in the back corner, Tom has to leave the room.

For a while, Tom drinks. He does a couple of shots out on the patio and chats with a few girls, and eventually, he’s pulled back inside the house. He ends up in the large living room, where the main party is happening, and it seems that you and Harrison have taken it to the next level in his absence.

Tom’s lips curve into a scowl as he looks across the room and sees you, wrapped up in Harrison. The blond’s hands roam all over you, moving from your cheeks, shifting back into your hair before curving down your figure. Tom can barely keep watching as Harrison’s palms curl around your waist and go down to squeeze your ass, and he swears he can almost hear the breathless moan you deposit into the air in response.

He looks away when Harrison starts to nibble at your neck and you toss your head back in pleasure, but Tom can’t stop himself from stealing quick glances every few seconds. In the pit of his stomach lies a terrible beast, acidic and possessive, clawing at his heart. There’s a tenseness to his jaw that he can’t quite shake, even when Tom tosses the remnants of the shit beer down his throat. There are easily a hundred people in the room with him, but he doesn’t care about a single one of them. The only one he cares about is you.

After a few moments of his eyes dissecting the contours of your face, Tom feels someone wrap their arms around his waist. He stiffens, turning his head and looking around until he finds himself staring at the face of a girl from his accounting course. She’s pretty, wearing silver eyeshadow, and Tom thinks that her name is Sasha.

“Hey, Tommy,” she greets. Her perfume smells overpowering and it makes Tom grimace. “Wanna dance with me?”

Tom looks back across the room, his stomach turning as he sees Harrison has pulled you down onto a sofa with him. As you straddle his lips and continue to kiss him, his blood runs hot.

“Fuck yeah, darling,” he mutters. Tom reaches out and wraps an arm around the girl, pulling her closer and letting his eyes fall shut as her lips find their way to his neck. “Let’s dance.”

He doesn’t need you. He barely fucking knows you. Tom has met a thousand girls, and it feels as though he’s kissed as many. The only things he knows about you are inconsequential—who cares if you smell like peaches and wear a glossy lip balm? Who gives a fuck that your voice sounds like a pretty wind-chime. Not Tom, that’s for sure. Tom’s got another girl kissing him and tugging on his hair. He doesn’t need you.

So why can’t he stop thinking about you?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The pillow that Tom has wedged over his head makes his ears ache and does nothing to obscure the sounds drifting into his room, so after a few moments of failed silence, he throws it aside. A loud huff passes by his lips.

It’s been a month since the party, and every Sunday morning since, without fail, he’s been woken by the sounds of your moans. Harrison’s room is right next door, and though he’d always complained to Tom that the walls are thin, Tom had never been the one on the receiving end like this. It’s always been Tom having lazy post-party sex with a random girl, or Tom taking a girl into the shower room and locking out his brothers all morning. Now it’s Harrison, making noise with you, and suddenly it’s not just the fact that he’s not had sex in four weeks that’s getting on his nerves.

Your moans are loud as they catch in the back of your throat, and they make Tom hard. He grumbles as he reaches down, hands dipping beneath the covers as he pushes a palm beneath his boxers. A softened groan passes past his lips as he pulls out his cock, pausing only to bring his hand back to his lips and spit on it before he starts to jerk off.

Tom had gotten over the guilt of getting off to you without your knowledge two weeks ago. For all he knows, you know that he can hear you, and you’re being so loud for him. He’s learnt that you’re cheeky like that, and the thought makes Tom tug his cock a little harder. Harrison’s bed is squeaky, and he can only imagine that you’re riding him. Tom bites back a moan as he imagines how pretty you must look on top.

He’s spent more time with you now, since that party, and it hasn’t helped his predicament at all. Every time he runs into you, you seem to grow hotter, and his attraction for you only burns brighter when he sees Haz grab your hand or kiss your lips. What had started as a bet for one night together has escalated, and now you’re both dating. Tom doesn’t think that he’s a bad person, nor would he ever say he’s a bad friend, but you’ve become his forbidden fruit.

Maybe it’s the fact that he can’t have you that makes Tom so incensed. He’s never been denied like this—been blocked so unscrupulously and irritatingly. Whilst you aren’t official with Harrison, Tom knows that his mate likes you. Hell, he can hear how much he likes you, right now, as Haz’s bed continues to squeak and your moans rise in volume.

Tom thinks he could get you to moan louder.

It takes an embarrassing two-minute window before Tom’s biting back a yell of your name, cumming in sync with a set of particularly loud whines that you emit next-door. He falls back onto the mattress, his clean hand going up to card through his curls as he tries to catch his breath. For a few moments, he lays there, scowling up at the ceiling as he tries to bathe in the afterglow of release, but it goes crashing down again when he hears your light giggles followed by Harrison’s deep guffaws.

Tom practically storms out of bed, wiping at his hand with some tissues before he stamps into a pair of grey joggers and leaves his room, slamming the door loudly in his wake. He hopes the sound scares Harrison so much he falls off his fucking bed.

The bad mood continues, even after Tom’s leapt through the shower and scrubbed at his ears. He ends up in the frat’s kitchen, the wide space still partially littered with solo cups and discarded bags of crisps from the party the night before. There are a few junior members of the frat hobbling around with black bin bags, looking pale and peaky. When they see Tom, they try and pretend they’re not hungover, and their act of skittish admiration is enough to make him feel a little better.

He’s just starting to assemble a protein shake when the air in the kitchen changes. Tom finds his eyes drifting towards the door, just in time to watch you walk in. The sun seems to follow you as you stroll into the kitchen, one hand at your side as the other plays with the tips of your hair, a relaxed smile on your face. As you look around the room and take stock of the several fratboys sitting on random pieces of furniture, your smile draws shyer, and Tom watches you glance down at your feet as you hurry towards the counters to where he is. You catch his eye, a blinding smile unfurling across your lips as you raise a hand in greeting.

As you sweep close, Tom blinks himself out of his stupor. He swallows down the lump in his throat as he steps forward to kiss your cheek, his hands falling onto your shoulders. When you step away, he takes in your outfit. Your legs are mostly bare, but you’re in a pair of shorts with an oversized grey t-shirt slouched on top of you. Tom’s eager eyes dip down, caressing your chest until they find the pointed tips of your nipples, straining against the fabric.

He clears his throat as he feels his cock prick to life.

“Morning, darling,” he manages, immediately turning around and facing the counter. He uses the smoothie as a pretence, but really he doesn’t want you to see the building bulge between his legs.

You seem to be oblivious, and Tom sucks in a breath as you step close. You place your chin on his shoulder and peer over it, comfortably leaning into him, and he swears he can feel your tits brushing up against his bare spine.

“Morning, Tom,” you greet, voice raspy and pure. “How’s your hangover?”

Tom chuckles, focusing very intently on ignoring the way your minty breath fans out across his cheek. You’ve got your arms wrapped loosely around him, hugging him easily and comfortably. He’d never complain that you’re at ease around him, but it doesn’t help his boner.

“Fine,” he responds, playing it cool. “I’m a pro at this, darling. Can’t remember the last time I had a hangover.”

You snort, and despite the loud volume, Tom thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

“You’re so fucking cocky,” you murmur, voice vibrating straight into his ear. “I feel like I’m going to die. Head’s killing me.”

Tom coos. He spends a moment violently mixing some green protein powder into the rest of his smoothie, then reaches up and rummages through a cupboard. When he procures a packet of painkillers, you release a deep sound of relief and finally step back.

“There you go, love,” he mutters. He makes sure to brush your hand with his as he passes it to you, smirking slightly when you jump. A lot of the time, Tom thinks his attraction to you is one-sided, but then something like this happens and casts doubt on that assessment. Neither of you has mentioned the night that you met, and sometimes he wonders if he should bring it up.

Tired and slightly delirious, Tom decides to test the waters. Just for fun, because he can, and because he likes the thought of making you flustered. He knows that his reputation precedes him and that you probably buy into the idea that he’s a flirt as much as everyone else does. If you respond badly, he’ll just blame it on his naturally charming disposition, and if Haz takes issue with it, well… Tom will just bring up the many red marks on his ledger.

“Thanks, Tom,” you say. He watches you rummage through a cupboard and pull out a glass, and his eyes follow your legs as you lean over the sink to get water and the hem of the shirt rides up.

“You know you’re fucking stunning, yeah?” Tom says before he can second-guess his plan.

You freeze, the waterline in your glass threatening to spill as you try to process his words. When you look back, there’s an expression of curious bewilderment on your face.

“What?”

Tom, his boner finally soft again, turns around to face you properly. He brings his arms over his chest, smirking wider as he watches you look at the curves of his biceps. He’s shirtless, and he knows the hours he’s spent in the yard doing weights with Haz shows in the firm definition of his abs and pecs. You seem to enjoy looking at him.

“You look hot.” Tom watches your face very carefully, not wanting to cross too many lines. “I bet Harrison told you that though, this morning.”

Something shifts on your face, and you bite your lip. “Well…”

“Well?”

“Harrison doesn’t say much in the mornings. Or, well, ever.” You pause, a deep line carving between your troubled brows. “He isn’t very vocal.”

Tom hums, stepping a little closer. “Harrison is good at a lot of things, but he has certain shortcomings.”

You lick your lower lip, and Tom’s gaze lingers on the glistening trail of your saliva.

“Like what?”

Tom makes a non-committal noise and pauses to take a sip of his smoothie.

“Well, you know. He’s very intense. He doesn’t always see what’s right in front of him.”

You raise an amused eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be friends?”

“We are. He’s my best mate. But that doesn’t mean I can’t criticise him for acting carelessly.” Tom drops his voice, letting you see the way he checks you out. “I just think that he doesn’t appreciate how lucky he is sometimes.”

You turn away, breaking eye contact as you take your pills. As you hum a soft tune, you pick up the kettle and fill it up, only looking back to Tom when it’s been plugged in and starting to boil.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” you reply, voice curious. You step closer until you’re standing in front of Tom, your eyes again going to his bare chest. “What does Harrison have that you don’t think he appreciates enough?” The suggestive look in your eyes matches the seductive inflexion in your voice, and Tom feels a shiver pass down his spine.

He plays it off coolly, shrugging slightly. “I’m just saying, darling, that if I had the honour of waking up beside someone as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t let you out of my sights all morning.” Tom reaches out slowly, gently letting his fingers bridge the gap between you as he toys with the hem of your shirt. You move closer, subtly encouraging him to continue, so Tom lets his hands shift up to hold your waist, feeling your curious eyes on him the whole time. “What was he thinking, eh? Letting such a lovely lady leave his bed. Crazy.”

You chuckle, a bashful smile on your face as you gnaw your lower lip. “Well, he wanted tea.”

Tom hums. “And I think that that’s bullshit.” He pauses suddenly, eyebrows raising as he finally looks away from your face and finds his gaze sticking on an emblem branded to your big t-shirt. A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest. Of fucking course. “You know what this is, love?” he asks, tugging at your shirt. When you shake your head, he grins. “Boyfriend material.”

Your reaction is immediate: soft frown, arched brows, confused stare.

“Harrison is not my boyfriend,” you say.

Tom clicks his tongue. “Never said he was.” He rolls his hands up your sides, gently caressing your warm figure. Though he wants to run his palms higher to your chest, he stops himself. “This is my shirt, babe. Laundry gets them mixed up all the time, but it’s mine.”

Your lips part and you look between Tom and your shirt with horror in your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you murmur. Immediately, your hands fly down to the hem. “Do you want me to take it off?”

He shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “As much as I’m sure I’d like that, there are too many other people in here.” He feels jealous again just thinking about it.

You nod, pausing the movement after a second as your eyes narrow. “Wait, how do you even know? It’s just a plain t-shirt?”

“What, you think I’m making this up?” Tom’s smirking again, and it widens as you fluster. “‘S alright, love.” He reaches up and points at the emblem which marks an event from rush week last year. “Logo,” he states. “And… I think you’ll find if we take a look at the label on the back, it’s got my name on it.”

You let him manhandle you, melting back into his hold as Tom stands forward and turns you around. He brushes your hair out of the way and reaches up, gracing his fingers over your spine as he delicately pulls out the back label. You won’t be able to see it, but it fills him with smugness to see his initials stained stark against the label: TSH.

“Well… I’m sorry, anyway.” Your voice is hoarse, light and feathery as if you’re holding your breath. Tom lets his hand rest on your shoulder after he’s tucked the label back. He’d move away, but you’re leaning into him completely, your hands grasping at the palm that he has curled around your stomach. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Tom leans down, and in a bold move, very gently kisses the base of your neck. Your skin is soft and warm beneath his lips, and the breathless gasp you release is just as sweet.

“It’s okay,” he rumbles. He pauses, eyes fluttering shut as he inhales your peachy scent. “Feel free to use it any time you’d like.”

Not wanting to push too hard, Tom leaves a final, wetter kiss to the bottom of your neck before moving back, unwrapping his arm from around your waist and repositioning his hands back on the counter. He leans against the wooden cabinets, wondering if you’d been able to feel his hard-on that’d peskily bounced back when he’d heard your whimper.

If you feel anything, you don’t say anything. In fact, you’re quiet as you step to the side and pour out the boiled water into two mugs. “Thanks,” you say, speaking through the steam. You glance back to Tom, and he swears your eyes are darker. “It’s soft.”

Tom sips his smoothie, eyeing you over the brim as you poke at a tea bag with a metal teaspoon.

“Fabric softener,” he says, nodding slightly. His brain is running slow, still caught up on how nice it’d felt to kiss your neck. “It suits you.”

You throw him another shy smile. “How does Haz take his tea again? No sugar, yeah?”

Tom bites his lip. “Wrong,” he lies. “Haz likes three sugars. Don’t be afraid to put in a little more, though.”

You eye him sceptically. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“He is my best friend, love,” Tom says. He hides his mischievous grin behind his smoothie, and he watches you roll your eyes. “Listen, if he’s got a problem with it, he can take it up with me or he can come and make his own cup of sodding tea. Lazy bastard.”

You snort, and Tom feels his stomach turn as he watches you spoon three teaspoons into Haz’s mug.

“Well, I’ll let you know what he says,” you mutter. Finally, you pick up the mugs in your hands and walk forward, pausing in front of Tom. Your eyes skim his figure again, briefly zeroing in on his chest before caressing the fine lines of his lips. “Thanks for keeping me company. This was fun.”

Tom nods and steps forward to kiss your cheek. He hopes you can feel how desperately he wants to press his lips to yours.

“Any time, darling,” he assures. “If you ever need anything, you know where I am, yeah?” He lets his teeth brush your earlobe as he pulls back slowly, smiling to himself when he sees you shiver.

“Yeah,” you murmur. You swallow deeply, and your eyes hold his gaze for one moment longer before you tear them away. “Have a nice morning, Tom.”

Tom watches you walk across the kitchen, almost stumbling when you get distracted trying to look over your shoulder back at him. He smirks, raising a few fingers in a lazy wave.

“See ya!” he calls back.

His blood doesn’t stop pumping until you’re all the way out of sight, and even after that, he knows the only way he’ll be able to properly shake you is by attending to his hard-on. Again.

You’re like a shadow that won’t stop chasing him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party is in full swing, and Tom feels like a king.

There are several benefits to parading the title of president of the frat. Tom gets the largest room in the house, along with an ensuite. He’s able to prioritise himself on the gym schedule and the cleaning rota. Every party, he’s looked up to, treated like royalty, his every wish and command carried out by his brothers. If he doesn’t like a song, it’s changed. All it takes is one arched brow in the direction of a partygoer, and they’re ejected from the house. The beer is his favourite make, and everyone loves him.

Tom has the whole world in his hands, which is why it’s incredibly infuriating that his kingdom tonight isn’t ordered how he’d like it.

It’s two months into the semester, and the buzz that’d characterised earlier parties has faded. Finals are coming up soon, so maybe that’s why Tom feels unsettled. Or, maybe it’s the fact that the music isn’t hitting quite as well as usual. It could be that he hasn’t tied his shoes as tightly as he normally does, or maybe that the vibe within the house is just...off.

But Tom knows exactly what the problem is if he brings himself to think about it. He’s tried drowning his ugly feelings in cheap beer, but there’s no denying it: his mood had taken a significant plummet when he’d glanced across the room and seen Harrison with his hands all over you, your lips locked together. The shard of jealousy that had lodged itself in the warm precipice of his heart is unshakeable, and there’s a horrible bitter taste on his tongue.

Tom is so fucking jealous that he’s about two seconds away from pointing at the couple and getting someone to kick you out.

“Bro. Bro. The fuck is wrong with you, man?”

It’s probably a good thing that Tom’s been interrupted, as he’s fairly sure there’s enough poison in his gaze to burn off a large patch of Harrison’s hair. He shakes a grimace over his lips as he looks to the side, eyes falling to his friend, Jacob. Jacob’s in a loose Hawaiian shirt, the red and white pattern glowing under the luminescence of the UV lights.

“What?” Tom says, playing it cool. He takes another drink, shuddering slightly as he lets the alcohol ease him.

“You look like you want to beat someone up.” Jacob squints, trying to look in the direction that Tom knows he’d been staring in. “I only see Haz. Are you guys, like… Good?”

Tom releases a short bark. “‘Course, man,” he says, voice lifting lighter. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Jacob scoffs. It’s loud in the crowded living room, but Tom can feel the undertones. “Uh, we all know about the bet. We all also know that you’d had your eyes on Y/N before Haz pulled her.” He pauses, wiggling his brows until Tom punches his arm and scowls. “I’m just sayin’... Seems like you have some unresolved shit going on.”

Tom doesn’t deem him with a response, not knowing where to start with that. It’s Saturday night. The last thing he wants to do is talk about this. He already drives himself mad every other day of the week as he ponders this particular puzzle.

“We need to get the energy up,” Tom mutters. He spins around, beckoning over a few of his friends with his hands. Someone gives him a shot, and he downs it before looking back at Jacob. “We’ll do a game or something. Get people. We’ll do it on the patio.”

Ten minutes later, there’s an assembly of partygoers on the terrace at the back of the house. It’s a mix of sorority girls, jocks, and fratbros, but Tom doesn’t pay them much attention as he claims his spot on a rickety canvas camping chair and sits back. He lets Jacob take the lead, doing another two shots when he sees you and Haz join the circle.

You’re in a black dress tonight, the material skimming just above your knees. As you walk out onto the patio, the midnight breeze swishes the hem up a little, and Tom watches as you giggle and drop Haz’s hand to smooth it down. Harrison presses an easy kiss to your cheek, and the smile on your face builds. It freezes when you spot Tom, your eyes darkening as your teeth dig into the pink flesh of your lower lip. Tom raises a brow, watching you stand a little straighter as your gaze runs over his form, lingering on the golden chain he’d pulled on earlier.

The spell breaks when Harrison sits on a chair and tugs you down with him, an expression of irritation briefly souring your angelic face before you smooth it back. Tom doesn’t look away until Jacob starts to speak.

“Spin the bottle,” Jacob announces, looking around at each person. There are a few groans, but they’re drowned out by the cheers. Tom just rolls his eyes, sitting back and briefly surveying the circle. He’s pretty sure he’s pulled at least five of the girls already, and the rest of them seem fine, too. Obviously, there’s only one person he’d want the spin to land on, but he’s already accepted that the universe isn’t on his side when it comes to you.

A few rounds pass. Tom isn’t really paying attention until the neck of the bottle lands on him and he has to kiss a girl from his psychology class. It’s a quick kiss, and her lip gloss makes his mouth tingle, but Tom only realises how hammered he is when he has to sit up from his chair and lean over to spin the bottle.

Tom looks around the circle as his fingers ponder the glass, grasping the attention of the group like he’s holding court. He looks at you and finds you looking at him, your lower lip held between your teeth as Harrison rubs your arm. Haz has you in his lap, your legs thrown across his thighs as you sit on him sideways. Harrison’s blond curls rest up against the side of your face, and Tom has to look away as he grimaces.

The bottle spins. It clatters quickly over the paving stone, hurtling with an angry force that Tom hadn’t entirely intended to use. He holds his breath, his eyes widening as it stops. Pointing at you.

“Looks like that’s Y/N,” Jacob announces.

Tom sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at Harrison. His mate’s eyes have lost their charm, a deep frown settled on his face. Tom thinks he looks exactly like the tough-faced models from Vogue with that mardy scowl on his face. He raises a brow, as if to say, up to you, and watches as you turn in Harrison’s lap and whisper something into his ear.

A moment passes, and Tom’s surprised when Haz nods and pushes you up from his lap. He meets Tom’s eyes, giving him another smaller nod, and Tom sits back, pleasantly resigned to the fact that Harrison isn’t going to ruin the game.

“Hi,” you greet as you approach him, smiling.

Tom reaches out, offering you his hands as you finish treading over the collection of limbs and shoes that crowd the patio. Your fingers are so soft in his.

“Hi, darling,” he responds. Tom feels hot, everywhere, and he hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “You look stunning,” he adds, voice quieter.

“Thanks.”

You hesitate, eyeing him up and down as if trying to assess the best way to kiss him. The girl he’d just kissed had bent over to press her lips to his, and as Tom remembers this, he drops one of your hands and reaches up and wipes his mouth again, trying to eradicate all traces of her lips. When he’s achieved this, he tentatively reaches up and presses the palm to your waist. Respectfully, of course. There are a lot of people watching.

You seem to be less reluctant to indulge, and Tom feels his eyes widen as you step forward and sink into his lap, your knees bending as you press your shins into the canvas of the camping chair on either side of Tom’s thighs. Suddenly your face is hanging in front of his, warm breath coming out over his face, and Tom has just enough time to wonder why your breath smells of pineapples before you’re leaning in.

He kisses you, and for a few seconds, he’s frozen. Everything that he’s learnt at the frat and over the course of his college life goes flying out the window, and he’s left feeling like a kid again. The background noise filters out, and all he can focus on is the weight of your body pressing into his legs and the feeling of your lips, soft and silky, moving over his. When you reach up to weave a hand into his hair, he comes back around, the roar of the party filling his ears as an adrenaline rush floods his chest.

Tom knows this will probably be his only chance to kiss you, so he leaves nothing behind. He brings both hands to your waist, urging you closer as he recovers his charm and kisses you properly. His tongue works into your open mouth, pressing against you and exploring the sweet space of your lips as you moan into him. He feels your fingers drift down, one of your hands staying bedded in his curls as the other plays with his chain. Never before has Tom felt so consumed by a kiss, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to reach around and grab handfuls of your skin, wouldn’t hold back his kisses, or his moans, or his coos of praising endearment. He’d give you everything.

When you pull back, your nose brushes up against his, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.

“How was that?” you ask, voice quiet. There’s a shyness to your disposition, a nervousness as you meet his eyes.

Tom reaches up, holding your cheek and brushing his thumb across your chin. He tidies up your smudged lipstick as he squeezes your waist.

“Perfect,” he replies, voice low. He can feel Harrison staring at him, but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re… You’re incredible, darling.”

You sit a little taller, looking proud of yourself. “Well, now I understand what all the hype is about,” you mutter. “You’re a good kisser. A really good kisser.” You pause as a shiver works its way down your spine, and Tom glances at your bare arms.

“Here,” he mutters. When you stand from his lap, he’s glad his jeans have some wiggle room so his raging boner is less obvious. Tom’s quick to shrug off his jacket, and he passes it up to you without a second thought. “Don’t freeze,” he says, wagging a finger at you.

“Tom, I couldn’t—”

“Yeah, you can.”

You bite your lip. “Won’t you be cold?”

Tom just flexes his biceps, smirking again as he sees you checking out his muscles. “Got these bad boys to keep me warm,” he teases, pointing at his guns. He softens, just for a moment. “It’s fine. Said you could always use my stuff, didn’t I?”

You look flustered, opening and then immediately closing your mouth before turning around and making your way back over to Harrison. Tom sits back in his chair, trying halfheartedly to suppress the smirk that continues to hold his lips as he admires how nice his jacket looks draped loosely across your shoulders. You always wear his clothes so well.

Tom looks at Jacob, who shakes his head in response. Then he looks at Harrison, and he can’t stop himself from laughing. Harrison’s a shade of salmon pink, and it only softens out a little bit when you settle back into his lap and kiss his cheek. Tom watches Harrison flip him off then pull you closer and kiss you harshly, and messily. You don’t seem as into it as you’d been with Tom, he realises. You’re holding back, grimacing slightly as Harrison pulls back a triumphant moment later.

The game concludes a while later, but Tom stays out on the patio, feeling dizzier by the second. The camping chair is comfortable, and the chill in the air helps him feel soberer. Whilst Tom doesn’t regret the multiple cups of beer and several shots, he does consider that he might’ve gone a little too far in his efforts to forget about you.

You’re gone, now. Out of sight, back in the party. Tom’s making light conversation with a few of the guys still left in the circle, but they clear out when a shadowy presence falls across the patio. It doesn’t take long for Tom to realise it’s Harrison, and he tries his best to sit up straight and look less smug as Harrison drags a chair over and places it opposite Tom.

Harrison stares at him, hard. He’s in a matching snapback and a loose white t-shirt, his ring glinting as he crosses his fingers and examines Tom’s face.

“So…” Tom starts, disliking how charged the air is. “Y’alright, Haz?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom,” Harrison says instead. When Tom pulls a face, he sharpens his gaze. “What’s wrong with you?”

Tom chuckles. He’s feeling drunk and annoying. “Well, that’s a bit of an unspecific question, Harrison. There are many things that you might say are wrong with me—”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Harrison breaks off, sighing loudly as he flops back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. He looks smaller, nervous. “Do you have a thing for my girl?”

Instinctively, Tom shakes his head. “Y/N?” he says dumbly. When Harrison nods, Tom hums. “Is she your girl?”

Harrison flounders for a moment. “I mean… Technically no, but we’ve been hooking up for two months.” He pauses, grimacing. “Look, mate. I know I fucked it when we met her. I knew you wanted her, and I still took on the bet. But I really fucking like her now, and… And…”

“And?”

“If you decide that you want her, you’ll get her. You always do.” Harrison grumbles as he crosses his arms. “Can I not have one thing? Just one.”

“You do know that Y/N is perfectly capable of making her own decisions, yeah?” Tom says, only slurring slightly.

“Oh, yeah. Of course, of course.” Harrison’s bobbing his head almost comically. “But still… Do you know what I mean?”

Tom closes his eyes for a few moments, the patio spinning. He speaks through gritted teeth. “Haz, I love you, man. You know what I’m like. I’m a flirt.” He cracks open an eye and gives Harrison a dopey smile, and the next words he speaks are the truth. “I wouldn’t seriously try to steal your girl, alright? I wouldn’t sleep with her if you guys have a thing. We were just playing the game.”

Harrison releases a deep breath. “Thanks, man, I—”

“Wait.” Tom feels bolder. “You do need to tell her, though.”

“Tell her what?”

Tom narrows his eyes. “You know what,” he says, speaking to a very sheepish-looking Harrison. “She’d want to know that your relationship is built from a bet. If you… If you seriously think that you’re g’nna have a fucking relationship with her, she needs honesty.” Just the thought of you and Harrison going official makes him feel sick.

“No way.” Harrison’s curls go flying as he shakes his head. “Fuck that. Are you mad? She’d break it off.”

Tom grimaces and looks away from Harrison. “I’m just saying,” he mutters. “You shouldn’t lie to the people you care about.”

It’s rich coming from him, but Tom knows that nothing he’s said has been a lie. He won’t sleep with you if you’re still with Haz. Maybe he’d try to break you both up, but he wouldn’t purposefully sleep with someone in a relationship. Logistically, he doesn’t think he’d be able to, even if he wanted to, because despite the tantalising banter he’s able to carry out with you, you’re a good person. You’d never cheat on Harrison.

“Yeah.” Harrison looks guilty now. “I guess.” His eyes shift away from Tom, falling to someone else. Tom startles when he feels two hands come down to rest on his shoulders, and glances down, only relaxing when he recognises the silver rings curled around your fingers.

As if a deity, you’ve appeared, just when Tom was thinking about you. He wonders if it’ll always work like this.

“Hi,” you greet, looking first to Harrison, then Tom. “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re standing behind his chair, perfume light and peachy. When Tom cranes his head back, your perfect face blurs.

“Nothin’,” he murmurs, a sleepy grin on his lips.

You chuckle. “How drunk are you right now?” you ask.

Tom makes a non-committal sound. “I don’t want to stand up and find out,” he admits. “So I’m just going to stay here until I get sober.”

“What if it rains?”

“Well, I guess I’ll get wet.” He reaches back and grabs lightly at his jacket, still covering your upper half. “Some thief ran off with my jacket.”

You snort, then pat his shoulders before walking around to the front of his chair. You offer him your hands, and Tom takes them easily.

“Babe?” Harrison pipes up. “What are you doing?”

With ease, you help Tom up from the chair. He fakes it a little, exaggerating just how woozy he is so that you have to wrap your arms around his waist. He hides his mischievous smirk in the crook of your neck, suppressing his guilt. He wasn’t lying to Harrison—he will stay in his lane. But old habits die hard, and you’re very warm, and he’s very drunk, especially with the blood rushing to his head.

“Putting him to bed,” you respond. “He’s tired.”

Suddenly, Tom finds himself yawning. He leans into you, pouting softly at Harrison as he tries to look as exhausted as possible. He’s always been a convincing actor, and his friend buys it completely.

“Alright,” Harrison says. “Do you need help?”

You shake your head. “Nah,” you respond. “I’ll be fine.” You squeeze Tom’s waist. “He’s just a big teddy bear.”

Tom doesn’t think he likes that (if anything, he’s a lion), but it seems to ease Harrison. The man presses forward, kissing your cheek before giving Tom a firm pat on his shoulder.

“Right, then,” he says. “I’ll be inside.” Harrison glances at Tom, reluctance filling his blue eyes before fading slowly. “Sweet dreams, bro.”

“Thanks, Hazzy.”

“Don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

Tom’s still chuckling as you lead him back inside, and he knows that you’re trying not to giggle too.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom already knows that you’re cute, but as you help him up the staircase and get him ready for bed, your adorableness really comes through.

“Drink this,” you announce, walking back into his bedroom with a glass of water in your hands. Tom admires the way that you walk, glad he’s already in bed and hiding beneath the covers. Your hair is a little wild, and he knows that’s probably his fault—Tom’s cheeky, and he’s especially persistent when he’s hammered, and he might’ve been a bit mischievous in the bathroom when you’d tried to convince him to brush his teeth, refusing until you’d had to physically push the brush into his mouth. You’d rolled your eyes, and he’d been distracted by watching you in the mirror.

“What is it?” he asks annoyingly. Now Tom is almost naked, clad only in his boxers, and he does a deliberately long stretch of his arms above his head, smirking as the duvet falls down to expose his toned torso.

You roll your eyes again as you sit on the edge of his bed, pushing the glass into his hands. “Water,” you supply. You stare at him, raising a brow. “Probably won’t help with the hangover, but I feel like I need to try.”

Tom takes a few sips, looking at you over the rim of the glass. You look tired, up close. Still glowing, and beautiful, and gorgeous, but tired. Your lipstick is faded, and he can see the shadows of your dark circles peeking through your makeup.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You glance at him, chuckling shortly before looking down at your hands. You play around with a few of your rings, sighing.

“Just tired,” you respond. You manage a forced smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

He frowns. “It does.” Tom obediently downs the entire glass, wanting to coax a smile to your face. “Why’d you come out if you’re tired?”

“Haz wanted me to.” You bring your eyes back to Tom. “I wanted to come and support you, too.”

Tom blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Aww.”

You scrunch up the end of your nose as you stand from his bed, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “Well, I do care about you, Tom. I know there’s a lot of pressure on you to make the parties good.”

Warmth bursts through Tom’s chest. “That’s so cute,” he mutters. He looks up at you, the light being cast from the ceiling light cascading over your shoulders like a halo. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re plastered,” you respond, smiling. You walk closer, running a hand over the top of the duvet until you reach Tom. When you’re standing up by his head, you tentatively reach down to push his shoulders. “Lie down,” you coax. “Bedtime.”

Tom sinks into his mattress with ease, smiling when you gently pick up his head and plump the pillows. You reach down and pull the duvet up to his chin, tucking it in around his chest firmly, your tongue held between your teeth as you go. You’re very attentive, and the sight of you looking after him so well doesn’t help his predicament at all.

“Thanks, darling,” Tom murmurs. He sighs contentedly. “So comfy,” he whines. “Why don’t you stay with me if you’re tired?” He cracks open an eye just in time to see the expression of shock on your face fade to one of amusement.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you respond. “Can you imagine how confused you’d be waking up in the morning?”

“Would be a good kind of confusion, though.” Tom rounds out his eyes, trying to look as soft and unassuming as possible. “I’m a great bed partner, babe. I won’t kick you. I’ll give you space. Or, if you want, I’ll cuddle you. I’m great at cuddling people.”

You just laugh, your face vibrant and light. “You’re so funny,” you say. “I wonder if you’ll remember this tomorrow.”

Tom scowls, grumpily snuggling further into bed. “I invite a pretty girl into my bed and she rejects me,” he grumbles. “Your loss, baby.”

“You sound more and more like a fratboy every time we speak.” You stand back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him up and down. “Right. I left painkillers on the side, and there’s more water too. Sweet dreams, Tom.”

You turn to leave, but Tom makes a noise of objection. You pause, raising a brow in question.

“Goodnight kiss,” Tom begs. “Please?”

You laugh again but step back towards him. You bend over, necklace dangling in Tom’s face as your hands smooth up to rest in his hair. He’s overwhelmed by the scent of your perfume and the close proximity, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to imitate the breathtaking kiss from earlier. But then you move up. You kiss his forehead, gently, stroking a few strands of his hair as your lips linger against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. When you pull back, Tom has a dumb expression on his face, and he’s glad that you follow up the kiss by turning off his lamp.

“Night, Tom,” you say, walking across the room. There’s a single shard of light, peeking into his room through the open door, and it illuminates your silhouette as you pause there.

“Night, Y/N,” he responds, voice slightly thick.

You gently close the door behind you and leave Tom alone, with nothing but his thoughts and his fantasies to entertain him. He grumbles as he turns over, a very prominent and selfish thought pushing to the front of his mind:

Tom loves Harrison, but he’s fed up. He can’t carry on like this, yearning incessantly. He doesn’t want to stay in his lane, he wants you to be his girl. Desperately.

Tom has to do something. He has to make you his.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You think that whoever scheduled Intro to International Business for 9am on a Monday hates all college students.

It’s dreary as you make the hungover trek to campus. The ache in the front of your skull rattles with each sombre step, and you never get used to the chill of November’s dark mornings despite having plenty of experience with them now. You’re bundled up in a hoodie, a jacket, and a scarf, yet the flecks of grey raindrops still manage to soak you. By the time you reach the lecture theatre, you’re grouchy and regretting ever leaving your bed.

At the time, going to the frat party the night before had seemed like a great idea—Harrison hadn’t stopped blowing up your phone about it all weekend, and you’d felt compelled to keep him company. There were other factors that made you eager to go, too.

It’s all a blur now. Spin the bottle, disrupting Harrison’s tense conversation with Tom, taking the latter upstairs. You think about the sight of Tom bundled up in bed, duvet pulled to his pouting lips, and your entire body bursts into flame, rippling with an unrestrained desire that makes you feel guilty for just existing. You’d been so affected by the events of the night before that you’d had to go home, too overwhelmed to stay with Harrison in the room beside Tom’s.

Most of the seats around you are empty. You’re early despite rolling out of bed after sleeping through your first alarm. As you settle into the back of the theatre, you begrudgingly pull out a pad of paper and a pen, wishing you’d thought to bring sunglasses. This is the class that you supposedly share with Tom and Harrison—also business majors—yet they’ve never made an appearance beyond a half-assed attempt in the first week. Sometimes you wonder how they’re both able to pass a class they never show face in.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Who the fuck scheduled this so early? They’re taking the piss.”

You startle as a grouchy voice enters your space, and your eyes snap up just in time to see a dark figure drop down into the open seat beside you. The deep navy blue hoodie is pulled above his head, and he immediately crosses his arms, but you know without a doubt who it is.

“Tom?” you ask, voice full of shock. You sit forward, reaching out to place a hand on his arm as you peer at him. When you meet his pale face and see the thick sunglasses covering his eyes, your eyebrows raise. “Since when do you come to class?”

Tom clicks his tongue, lips curving into a smirk. It’s a little disconcerting that you can’t see his eyes, but you can tell they’re dark and seductive. They always are.

“What d’you mean?” he teases. “I’m always here.”

“As if.”

He shrugs and breaks off for a moment to yawn. “Thought I should start being a good student, ‘n all,” he mutters. “Finals next month, and everything.”

“And how’s your hangover?”

Tom pulls a face. All of a sudden, he leans over, rummaging through his bag with loud actions until he procures a bottle of water and a bag of mixed nuts. When he sits back up, he pushes down his hood and jerks off his sunglasses, exposing the damage. You wince as you take in the deep bags beneath his eyes and the way his brown irises are marred with red. He still manages to smile, though, and after ripping open his snack, crunches a couple in quick succession.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “I don’t get hungover, but if I do, it clears pretty fast. I’m built differently.”

You snort. “Yeah right,” you mutter. You find yourself looking at his lips, and briefly, you’re transported to how incredible they felt last night when you’d straddled him and kissed him. Quick to shake that off, you find yourself blinking as you stare at him. “You were trashed last night. I had to take you to bed. Do you remember?”

Tom gives a hapless shrug, not quite looking into your eyes. You wonder, not for the first time, what thoughts are running through his mind. He confuses you immensely.

The night you’d met, you’d been convinced you’d end up sleeping with him. He’d swaggered over to you, dripping charm, looking incredibly hot in an all-black ensemble, chain, and cap, then he’d kissed your forehead and promised to see you later. Just, you hadn’t seen him later—instead, his friends had not-so-subtly set you up with Harrison as Tom had stood across the room, watching. A part of you had felt side-lined by him, but Harrison is attractive, so you’d jumped on him the moment you could.

Harrison is nice. He’s kind. Dependable. He’s the kind of boy that you could easily take home to your mother and hear nothing but kind words about. He isn’t always the most attentive, but he’s funny, and he cares for you, so it’s fine.

Tom is… Tom is an entirely different ballpark. There are no words to describe Tom Holland. You’d thought you knew enough about him before meeting him at the party, but the man you’ve come to know since doesn’t match up to the reputation that surrounds him. Tom is cheeky—it’s obvious in his flirtatious jokes, and his lingering touches, and his habit of kissing your cheek every single time he sees you. He’s funny too, but his sense of humour isn’t mean or callous like most of the lads in his house. Beneath the hardy exterior lies someone who genuinely cares, and looks out for the people he loves.

He makes you feel alive, each one of your cells burning and sizzling every time he’s around. Tom makes you feel the pounding rhythm of your heartbeat everywhere—in your ears, in your chest, between your legs. He gives you everything, whilst giving you nothing at all. It’s entirely perplexing.

You need to stop comparing them. It’s not a competition. You’re seeing Harrison, and Tom has no genuine interest in you. You’re friends, and he’s flirty, but that’s it. You’re friends, and you shared the best kiss of your life last night, but that doesn’t mean a thing. It doesn’t matter that Tom fires you up the right way, because it’s one-sided, and you’re with Haz.

Tom ignores your question about the night before and instead tips his bag of nuts towards you.

“Care for a nut?”

You snort as you pick out a cashew, crunching it softly as he watches. Tom’s deep brown eyes linger on your lower lip as you slowly lick the salt from it.

“Delicious,” you say, earning a loud cackle from your companion.

“Dirty girl,” he mutters, grinning wickedly.

“No, you just have your mind in the gutter. Not everything has to be an innuendo, Tom.”

“Wrong. Everything can be and is an innuendo if you try hard enough. You should know this by now, darling. You’ve spent enough time with me.”

“Maybe, but not all of us share your immature sense of humour, Tom.”

He gasps, eyebrows sliding up his forehead in mock shock. “Are you calling me a child?”

“Childish,” you clarify, smirking as he shoots daggers at you. “You’re such a boy.”

Tom sits back, blinking a few times in quick succession before clearing his throat. His eyes seem to darken as he leans in closer, bringing a hand up to rest on your shoulder. His fingers are warm as he pushes the hair from your face and gently tucks it behind your ear, leaning across the seat until he’s able to whisper gently.

“I am not a boy,” he coos, voice soft. “I’ve just never broken out the proper charm on you, darling.”

Your throat runs dry as his hot breath fans out across the side of your face, minty fresh.

“And what is this proper charm?”

Tom opens his mouth to speak, but it fades a moment later. He pulls back, appearing to lose his cool last minute as his cheeks flush.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mutters instead. He shifts around in his seat, looking back at you for a split-second before glancing away. Tom’s reluctant to meet your eyes, and you watch, confused, as he chugs about half his bottle of water before pulling off his hoodie. He’s still flushed—face warmer and more alive than it’s been all morning.

Your brows furrow as you look at Tom’s shirt. “Hey, is that the one I borrowed the other week?” you ask, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom chuckles, regaining his charm as he throws his hoodie on top of his bag and turns to face you, a hand lodging in his hair. It’s longer than it’d been at the start of the semester, a few strands dangling over his forehead.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Smells of you.” Something crosses over Tom’s face, and he flashes you the tips of his pearly teeth as he smirks. “Smells of us, darling.”

Your reaction is immediate and uncontrollable. A hot flush, moving through your entire body, forming in your centre and rolling across your figure from the inside out. You hope that you can play it off by pulling your notebook into your lap. The back of your mouth is dry, but you manage a weak, quipping response of, “you should wash that,” before you spiral too far.

It’s in the small things. His comments. His lingering touches. His smirks. Tom drives you crazy.

The lecture starts, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you stay huddled up in the back with Tom, killing time as he shows you a collection of photos from the night before. After flicking through the snapshots from a very blurry night, Tom moves on to a different folder in his phone, nimble fingers swiping across the screen and showing off some of his favourite memes. You end up almost crying from laughter, clutching to his arm as you bend over in your seat and try to pass by undetected by the notoriously strict professor. Tom’s hand soothes over your back, and you briefly wonder if you should dissolve into laughter more often just so he can bring you back down.

When the class finishes, Tom throws his arm across your shoulders and walks you across campus. It’s only when you’re halfway towards the car park that you realise where he’s taking you.

“Wait— I can walk back home.”

“Nah. It’s fine.”

“It’s out of the way, though.”

Tom squeezes your side. “‘S alright. You’re my best mate’s girl. ‘Least I can do.” He pauses, apparently oblivious to the sour expression you pull in response to those words. “Plus, you looked after me last night, so… I kinda owe you.”

Deciding to just accept it, you hum in agreement. “Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

He’s very warm and his cologne smells like a forest breeze. You enjoy strolling across campus with him, especially when he kisses your temple as you separate at his car. It’s a battered old thing, and you’ve been in it a few times before. You’re fairly sure that Haz owns it too, but the way Tom settles into the driver’s seat and keys the ignition makes him look like the proper owner. Tom commands any space he inhabits with poise and elegance.

“You’re out near Sarah, aren’t you?” Tom asks as he jerkily reverses from his parking space.

“Yeah.”

“Nice area,” he comments, which makes you laugh. Tom glances at you, raising a brow. “What?”

“Small talk?”

“Mmm. Well, is there anything else you’d like to talk about, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Fuck, you can’t handle the way that sounds dripping from his lips.

“Nope.” You stretch your hands out in front of you, yawning. “Too hungover to think.”

“Fair enough.” Tom drums his fingers over the wheel, and you find yourself watching the lines of his slender digits. He has very pretty hands. “Good party though, eh?”

“Oh yeah. Crazy. Did you have fun?”

Tom releases a noise of reluctant agreement. “It was alright. Not the most successful night for me.” He risks a brief glance at you, chuckling. “Isn’t really the best look to get escorted to bed.” You aren’t sure if you should feel guilty for that, but Tom’s quick to add, “not that I don’t appreciate it. I do. I just shouldn’t have been so eager.”

“Why were you?” you ask. “It seemed like you were trying really hard to get drunk. Did something happen?”

Tom cackles, the sound so loud and quivering so precisely that it makes you jump. “God, if you only knew…”

“Eh?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

You’re intrigued now. “What?” you press, reaching across the console to pat his thigh. You’re over halfway back to yours now, and like a bloodhound, you want to know answers. “Was it a girl? I’ve not seen you with anyone since… Well, ever.” You furrow your brows. “Did someone reject you?”

Tom’s face clouds over immediately, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat as you watch his jaw set into a hard line.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps, his easy demeanour gone.

“Woah,” you mutter. “Sorry.”

Tom cards a frustrated hand through his hair, his eyes glinting dark. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I was not rejected.” The way his voice quivers makes it sound like a lie.

You pull a face as you cross your arms over your chest, your hangover exacerbating your rapidly falling mood.

“Aren’t we friends?” you ask.

He sucks in a fast breath. “Yep,” he replies, speaking through tight lips.

Something has changed. It’s as if you’ve crossed an invisible boundary that you hadn’t seen, tripped a trick wire only visible to him. The air between you is thick, and Tom doesn’t say another word until he’s turned down your street and pulled into a space outside your house.

“Well… Thanks, I guess,” you mutter. You reach into the footwell and pull up your bag, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn back to face him. For a few moments you bounce between jumping out of the car or staying, but you hate leaving things tense like this. Not with him. “Are we… good?”

Tom turns off the engine. For a moment he stares at his hands on the steering wheel, but then he brings his gaze up to you. His eyes are sad and raw, and it makes your heart hurt.

“We’re fine, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. “Sorry. It’s the, uh… The hangover. Makin’ me act like a twat. I’m sorry.”

You release a sigh of relief. “It’s okay, Tom.” A light chuckle slips by your lips. “I was worried I pissed you off for a moment there.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You? Never, darling.” He drums his hands over his thighs, and you remember the circumstances.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get out of your hair,” you say. You hasten to undo your seatbelt and reach towards the car door, only to pause when Tom reaches out suddenly to touch your arm. “Yeah?”

“I, uh…” Tom’s close, leaning over the console. Your eyes drift over the freckles of his face, and you get distracted by how warm his brown orbs are, like glinting pools of honey. “I really am sorry,” he adds. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “It’s fine.” You glance down to where he’s softly caressing your arm, his eyes fixed firmly on your skin. His hand feels nice. Soothing. He soothes you. He always does. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tom nods. “Yeah. I’m great.”

You don’t quite believe him, but you’re willing to accept that the hangover has knocked him.

“Well, thank you,” you say. You turn back to face him. “For the lift. And the nuts.”

Tom finally smiles again, and the sight makes your heart soar. “No worries, babe,” he says. He winks. “Any time.”

You lean over the console and kiss his cheek, your mouth hitting a spot of skin closer to his lips than the side of his face. If Tom notices how flustered it makes you, he doesn’t say a thing. You’re still shaking as you pull your bag over your back and hobble from the car, shouting back a tight, “bye!”

Tom raises his hand through the open window and winks again as he pulls away from the curb, leaving your body throbbing persistently and your heart more confused than it’s ever been.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks pass. You don’t see Harrison much, but Tom continues to come to class. Life goes on, nothing unchanged, and finals come and go with ease. Before you know it, it’s the final mixer of the semester.

Harrison’s going to miss it. He tells you as much when you turn up at the frat two hours before kickoff to find him stuffing shirts into a bag. He looks guilty as you walk into his room, question written all over your face.

“You remember Rory, yeah? From UPenn? He invited me to their party. Apparently, they’ve got Travis Scott. It’s gonna be lit, so… I’m going.”

“Overnight?” you ask, looking at his heavy bag. Harrison nods, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. Sorry… I probably should’ve told you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah.” You glance down at your hands and swallow the irritation that festers in your chest. Harrison has never been great at communication. Throughout the duration of your arrangement—whether you’re just dating, or just hooking up—he’s kept his cards close to his chest. He confuses you.

When you’d first spent the night with him, Harrison had acted like he’d wanted something more with you. You’d been on a few dates, he’d brought your flowers, the works. But with time, it’s as if he’s tired of you. The spark has slipped away, and if he wasn’t on his way across state, you’d sit him down and have a discussion about the direction of your entanglement. But he is, and you have no time, so you display your irritation by crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry,” he adds. He finishes zipping up his bag and throws it over his shoulders before stepping towards you. With warm hands, he cups your cheeks and brings you in for a deep, passionate kiss. “You can always come if you want.”

You grimace as you shake your head. “I told Tom I’d help him here,” you say. “It’s fine. Just… Have fun, alright?”

A shadow of jealousy briefly flitters across Harrison’s face, but it’s quick to smooth away when he clears his throat. “‘Course,” he says. He takes your hand and leads you from his room. “What are you guys doing?”

“Hm?”

“Tom. What are you doing with him?”

“Oh. Just hanging up banners, and stuff. He wanted me to help him with the drinks too.”

“Nice.”

The air between you is stale, and you’re glad when Harrison pulls you down the corridor and pauses outside Tom’s room. There’s loud music coming from the room, so Harrison has to rap loudly several times, an act that makes you cringe.

“Come in!” yells Tom. Harrison does just that, pulling you in after him with a firm grip. “Oh, hey guys?”

You instantly wrench your hand from Harrison’s, not wanting him to feel your palm grow hot as your eyes fall onto Tom. You’ve caught him mid-workout, perched on the edge of his bed, shirtless and doing curls with a hand weight. There’s a healthy red flush to his face, and his bicep bulges as he flexes with the weight. All across his chest are lines of thick muscle, and you find yourself staring.

“Hey, dude,” Harrison says. “I’m just on my way out.” He turns to look at you, an easy smile on his face. “Y/N told me you guys have plans tonight, so… I guess, I’m just wondering. Can you keep an eye on her? Look after my girl, y’know?” He pauses to chew on his lip, guilt at leaving reflected in his eyes. “Make sure she’s okay, ‘n all that.”

Tom stands from the bed, tossing the weight onto the mattress with ease before approaching you, smirking. “‘Course, Haz.” He wraps a very hot, slightly sweaty arm around you and pulls you into his side. “I’ll take care of her.” Tom glances at you, shrugging softly. “Take care of you,” he adds.

You don’t know what kind of dangers you might face tonight that warrant a personal guard, but you don’t think you mind it if your attendant is Tom. He’s hot and sweaty and he smells of man, but you burn for him.

“Thanks,” you respond, slightly breathless.

Harrison looks between you both, then shrugs. “Great.” He steps forward and briefly touches his lips to you. Tom freezes, holding you tighter in his arms the moment Harrison kisses you, and that action makes you feel perplexed. “Have a good time, guys.”

“You too, Haz,” Tom responds. You echo similar sentiments.

When the door closes behind Harrison, Tom doesn’t move. He simply holds you tighter, then drops his mouth down and presses a light kiss to the base of your neck. Your choked whimper travels into the air, and you flush as he steps away.

“We will have fun tonight, won’t we, Y/N?” he teases. His eyes are dark as they briefly skitter across your figure. After a moment, Tom walks across the room and picks up a towel and a fresh set of clothes. Tom pauses in front of you, tilting his head as he looks at you. He has to know how frazzled he makes you feel. He’s got to.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice high. “A lot of fun.”

“Mmm. Hope so.” Tom steps forward and cups your cheek in his hot palm, kissing your forehead before stepping back. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself comfortable, yeah? What’s mine is yours.”

A full-body shiver travels down your spine, but luckily it isn’t until he’s turned on his heel and strode over to the door.

“Have fun,” you call out. Tom turns back to wink, then disappears in a flash.

As the door closes behind him, you wonder if you really lost your spark for Harrison, or if the feelings you had for him just paled in comparison to the ones you harbour for his best friend.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party picks up quickly. You split off from Tom a few hours in, being pulled away by one of your friends and staying with them for a while. You start to miss him, though, so you excuse yourself from a game of beer pong out on the patio and walk back into the large frat house, cringing slightly as you hear the loud music. You haven’t been drinking much tonight. Something tells you that you’ll need your sober brain.

It takes you a while to find Tom, the house busy and wild. He’s not in the kitchen, nor the hallway. Your adventures take you to the large living room, where they have the music and the drinks set up. As you wander inside, your eyes take a moment to acclimate to the dim lighting. When they settle, you see him, and the breath leaves your lungs.

Tom is standing in the middle of the dancefloor, talking with a girl. She’s draped in his arms, the tips of her fingers running through his hair as she chats to him. Tom is looking at her intently, paying rapt attention to what she’s saying, but the smile on his face doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes. When he spots you, his brows briefly raise, only for them to lower again as he smirks. He winks at you, then reaches for the girl, bringing her in closer and dropping his mouth so he can start to kiss her neck.

Jealousy consumes you. It burns through every other rational thought that you have. The sight of the girl wrapping herself around him as Tom kisses up her neck makes your fingers curl into fists at your sides, and you start to walk across the room before you can comprehend it. Tom sees you, continuing to make flirtatious eye contact with you as he deposits light, wet kisses to the girl’s shoulder. It feels targeted and provocative, and whatever game that he’s playing seems to work.

“Tom!” you call out when you’re just a few centimetres away. He leisurely pulls away from the girl, dark eyes twinkling mischievously as he looks up at you.

“Yes, Y/N?”

You grimace. Now you’re over here, on the receiving end of stares from Tom and his companion, you wonder why you’d responded so immediately and directly.

“You need to come with me. We have, uh… Things to do.”

Tom raises an eyebrow, stepping away from the girl as he crosses his biceps over his chest. He’s wearing his golden chain, the one that always drives you mad, and he looks so fucking handsome under the UV lights.

“And what would those things be, Y/N?” he asks. The girl at his side is looking between you both.

“You know,” you hiss.

The girl frowns, then huffs out a sigh and pushes at Tom’s arm. “Can we go upstairs?” she asks him. Tom glances at her, chewing his lower lip as he finds himself on the receiving end of her fluttering lashes.

“No, Jess,” he says, evening out the rejection with a soft smile. “I’m sorry. Have a good evening.” Before she can respond, Tom reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you with ease towards one of the corners of the room. You squeal as he tugs you, easily falling into his side and enjoying the press of his warm arm to yours. He drops his voice, pausing only when you’re on the edge of the dancefloor to spin you and press his hands to your waist. “Are you alright, darling?” he asks, smirking. “Looks to me like someone was a little jealous.”

Your body heats up, and you find yourself nibbling at your lower lip as you try to make sense of the situation. “Nope,” you lie. With ease, you reach up and rest your hands on Tom’s broad shoulders. “I was just… Thinking about the night we met. You said we could dance then, but we never did.” You tilt your head to the side, throwing out a convincing smile. “Do you want to change that?”

Tom growls, tugging you closer as he wraps his arms around you. The tips of his teeth brush up against the shell of your ear and you whimper as his hot breath fans out over the side of your face. “Fuck yeah, babe,” he murmurs.

You settle into it easily. Tom ends up pulling you so your back rests flush against his front, his arms skating around to hold your waist as you grind back against him. It’s close and hot, and it doesn’t take long for him to put his lips back where they belong—on your neck, kissing deeply. Everything that he does feels calculated and purposeful, but it’s only when he brings his kisses near your ear and whispers a low, “you’re so fucking hot, baby,” that you come back to earth.

“We… Shouldn’t,” you whimper. Tom kisses your lobe in response. “Harrison.”

“What about him?” he mutters. His voice is raspy and seductive, and the way he strokes his hands over your sides makes your eyes roll back. “He doesn’t care about you like I do, Y/N. You know he doesn’t.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the way Tom sucks deep bruises to the sensitive spot on your neck. Harrison had never been able to find it, had never even tried.

“He cares about me,” you say, voice hoarse.

“Yeah. But not enough.” Tom spins you in his arms, reaching up to cup your cheek in a hand. He peers at you, eyes wide and insistent. “He lies to you. Did he ever tell you about the night that you met?”

You quirk a brow. “No.”

A shadow of hesitation passes over Tom’s face, but he swallows it down. “He only came up to you as part of a… a fucking bet. That’s the only reason I didn’t come back to you that night.” He strokes his fingers over your cheekbone, soothing you when you frown. “You’re the prettiest fucking woman I’ve ever met in my life, and it’s been killing me to see you both together.”

You press your forehead to his, feeling his breath come out in hot pants over your face. “Do you like me, Tom?”

He chuckles. “You have no idea how much, babe.” Tom shifts his hands back to your hair and he cradles your face. “I’d be so good to you. I swear.” He’s speaking earnestly, his voice breaking softly as he looks at you. “I love Haz. He’s my best mate. But we all know that you’re not a good fit. He left you here tonight. He doesn’t satisfy you.” Tom drops his voice, tilting his head to the side as his voice drops lower. He brings his lips closer, kissing the side of your mouth as you shiver. “I could satisfy you properly.”

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. For a moment you stare at Tom, eyes swirling down to his lips, then, as if entranced, you reach down and pull your phone from your bra. Using one hand on the screen, you reach up to cup Tom’s face with the other, smiling softly when he instinctively tilts his lips and kisses the palm of your hand. You write out a short message, the guilt in your heart fading when you briefly check Harrison’s Instagram story and see him surrounded by a sea of girls at the party he hadn’t invited you to.

After sending the message, you tilt the screen towards Tom’s face, watching his skin glow white as he slowly reads the few words.

You: Haz, I’m sorry to do this over text, but it’s over. I think we both know that we’re better as friends.

Tom’s brows raise. “Did you..?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip and slowly tuck your phone back against your chest. “It’s over.”

Tom kisses you immediately, both of his hands anchoring your cheeks. You could almost cry with how good it feels to have his mouth touching yours again. He parts his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth, and you moan as you wrap your arms around his neck. As he holds you tightly, his hands slip down to hold your waist, and though your teeth and noses collide and clash, you don’t care. It’s beautifully imperfect, and it’s so hot that it makes your whole body throb. Tom’s curls give you the perfect leverage to jerk him closer, and as you make out mercilessly on the edge of the dance floor, you feel a piece of you slot into place.

“Come upstairs with me,” he groans, voice thick as he speaks against your lips. Your mouth is wet with spit, but you don’t bother to wipe it clean when you pull back. Tom’s eyes glint with hunger, and he grabs at your hand when you nod.

The journey upstairs is fast and easy, full of your giggles as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. The moment you’re in his room, Tom pushes you back against the door and flicks the lock, attaching his lips to your neck with ease.

“Tom,” you whine, running your hands all over his back as he sucks harshly against your skin.  

His hands skim lower and you curve your spine away from the door so he can grab handfuls of your ass, your moan mixing with his grunt when he pulls away from your neck to kiss your lips again. It’s as if he’s ravenous—unable to pick between your lips and your neck, your hips and your ass. Tom changes his position every few seconds, and the irregularity fills you with excitement.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans. Tom pulls back breathlessly, looking straight into your eyes. “Can I… Are you okay with this?” he clarifies, holding your gaze firmly until you nod.

“I’m more than okay with this,” you say.

“Good, good... Pretty baby.” Tom runs his index finger down your face, his knees bending as he slowly sinks down in front of you. He scatters two light kisses to each of your breasts before travelling down your navel, only stopping when he’s fully on his knees, gazing up at you from beneath his lashes. “Darling?”

“Hmm?” You’re light-headed but aroused, your dress feeling tight as you shuffle against the door.

“Can I taste your pussy, baby?”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat, and the first time you try to speak, only a moan comes out. Tom smirks, fingers easily pushing up the hem of your dress. As his fingertips stroke up your thighs to rest on your waistband, he pauses, tilting his head to the side in question. “Yeah,” you manage, voice a whisper. “I want that so badly.”

“Mmm, should’ve just said, darling.” Tom’s head dips, disappearing between your legs. You whimper as he rubs the front of two fingers down the front of your panties, the material wet and warm. “God…” He unhooks them easily and tugs them down your legs, pausing to allow you to kick them off. When he repositions, he holds your thighs further apart and presses a kiss to your soft flesh. “You’re fucking soaked, lovie.” His hot breath fans across your centre. “Pretty cunt’s just waiting for me, isn’t it?”

His cockiness turns you on, and you’ve barely gotten out a garbled moan before he’s delving in. Tom’s skilful tongue runs up your slit, light at first, gradually leading you into it. You cry out as he finds your clit, sucking softly around the bud before lapping his tip across it gently. You have to reach out and grab ahold of the nearby bookshelf as arcs of pleasure spread out from your centre, small whimpers and moans being pulled from your mouth as Tom continues his assault.

“Tastes like paradise,” he whines, speaking against your cunt. “So sweet, baby. I understand why Haz likes being with you so much.” Tom pauses, drawing a few more strokes across your clit as you whimper. “Mine now,” he murmurs, deep voice vibrating across your centre. “My pussy.”

“Tom,” you moan, legs shaking. He responds by bringing his right hand up, slowly curving two of his digits into your heat. As he starts to thrust his fingers, the sounds of your wet arousal fill the air, making you moan louder. “Feels so good,” you encourage, realising he works harder when you speak to him. The top of his curls brushes against your legs as his tongue continues to glide over your clit, merciless and pleasurable.

“You sound so pretty, love,” Tom says, pulling away slightly. The vibrations from the noise make you moan louder, and you glance down to see him staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust and his chin covered in your juices. He looks back between your legs, readjusting his fingers and curving them at different angles before he strikes gold. When you call out his name, his other hand goes up to your hips, holding you back against the door as he smirks. “I want you to cum for me, darling,” he coos. “Let me make you feel good. I want to hear those pretty little moans. Be loud for me.”

You don’t take much convincing, as once Tom’s got his mouth back on your clit, you’re arching your back as you fall over the edge. He laps your bud with his hot, firm tongue, his fingers continuing to stroke at your walls until you spasm into climax, reaching out to grab his hair as you moan and writhe against the door. He holds you up, even when you feel like falling, and it has to be the most intensely pleasurable orgasm that you’ve ever experienced in your life.

“Fuck,” you pant, only able to calm down when Tom pulls back. He sits on his shins, smacking his lips as he looks up at you, smirking. You’ve still got a hand on his head, so you fiddle with his hair as you recover. “That was so good.” A breathless smile finds your face. “So good. Thank you.”

“No problem, darling.” Tom clambers to his feet, and your eyes find themselves drawn to the bulge in his jeans. “Knew I could make you cum,” he says, speaking almost to himself. “Looked like an angel. Taste like one too.”

You swallow a moan and step forward, hands twisting behind your back to release your zipper. Tom’s eyes widen as you push down your dress, stepping out of it with ease.

“We’re not done yet, are we?” you ask, biting your lip as you look over to the bed. Tom shakes his head and offers you a hand after you’ve pulled your phone from your bra and placed it down on his desk.

“No way,” he agrees. Tom pushes you down onto the mattress but stays standing at the edge, nimble hands quickly releasing his belt and pulling off his jeans, then his shirt. You admire his Calvin Klein boxers, black with a white band skimming across the top, and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Fuck,” he adds. His eyes skim your figure, appreciation held in his gaze. “I can’t believe I’ve got you here.” He gets on the bed, pushing you down and climbing on top of you as he kisses his way up to your mouth. When he’s hovering above your face, he cups your cheeks. “Most beautiful girl in the whole world, love. Girl of my dreams.”

You kiss him, your hands finally able to learn the curves of his muscular back. Tom grinds down into you, his covered crotch meeting your bare pussy, and the friction to your clit makes you moan into the kiss. As you admire his form, you settle into his lips, your heart beating faster and more persistently against your ribcage.

“Tom,” you say, speaking against his mouth. He pulls back, lips red and puffy. “You’re so handsome. Have I ever told you that?”

Tom bites his lip, continuing to roll his hips down against yours. When you start to grind up to meet him, an expression of enjoyment darkens his face. “Thanks, love.”

You lick your lips as you wrap your arms around him, holding him closer as he continues to grind into you. “Every time I’d see you out doing weights or walking around shirtless, it’d turn me on,” you admit. You snake a hand between your bodies, managing to press your palm up and against the outline of his cock. Tom groans loudly, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and whining as he ruts against the pressure. “I want to feel you,” you whimper. “Properly. I want to feel how good it is to have you inside me... I can feel you. I know you’re big.” You bite your lip. “I’ve thought about it for weeks.”

Tom forces his face away from your neck and meets your eyes, his pupils completely dilated. “You are going to be the death of me, lovie,” he says seriously, drawing a chuckle from your lips. Tom leans up and kisses you, softer, but only for a moment. He reaches across his bed and rummages through his bedside table, procuring a condom a second later.

“Let me do it,” you offer. Tom nods, and you swap positions with ease. Tom settles on the mattress, raising his hips and watching as you tug his boxers down his legs. You feel yourself salivate slightly as you take sight of his cock, erect and flushed, pressing up against his lower stomach. Holding the open condom in one hand, you run your thumb over his tip with the other, gathering beads of his silver precum on your fingertip. You meet Tom’s eyes and sit back on his thighs as you push your finger into your mouth, exaggerating your moan as you lick it clean.

Tom tosses his head back, his hair fluffing up against the pillows. His cock twitches against his stomach. “Fuck, baby… You’re driving me crazy.” When you reach back and roll the condom over his length, he can barely keep still, rutting up and filling your hand the moment you’re done. “You know… every time you stayed the night with Haz, I could hear you guys,” he says, looking at you through hooded eyes. You give him a few pumps, biting your lip as you admire his member and try to imagine how good it’ll feel filling you to the brim. “Used to get off listening to your moans. Imagining it was me fucking you. Thinking… Thinking about how good it’d be to- fuck- to open you up on my cock.”

His words make you feel hot, and you speed up the rhythm of your hand as you watch his face flush with heat. “I know,” you admit. “I could hear you sometimes.” You lean up and press a kiss to his chest, feeling his hot skin between your lips. “You make the hottest noises, Tom.”

“For you,” he groans, jaw tensing. “It’s all for you.” He continues to rut into your hand, and you smirk as you feel him throb. As Tom grows more erratic, you feel your slick between your legs thicken and your core begin to throb.

“Can I ride you?” you ask.

Tom immediately bounces his head, eyes lighting up like you’ve spoken the only thing he’s ever wanted to hear. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—”

You bend over to kiss him, sliding up his body with ease. Tom reaches up your back, eager hands falling to a stop at your bra. He manages to unclasp it after a few attempts, grinning victoriously against your lips as it falls slack. Once you’ve thrown it aside, you sit back, watching as Tom’s hand goes down to guide his cock through your slit. One of his hands rests on your hip, palm hot and heavy, and he gives you a short squeeze as he presses his tip against your entrance.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, moaning loudly as his girth stretches your cunt. Your eyes squeeze shut as you adjust, breath hitching when Tom adds his thumb to your clit, the pleasure easing the stretch. When you’re completely seated, you find yourself shifting, Tom groaning when you clench and slowly start to ride him.

“Oh my god,” he moans. “Feels like heaven, darling. Actual heaven.” His jaw is tense as he tosses his head back, prying open an eye to watch as you bounce over him, moving faster as you find your rhythm. “So wet, sweetheart. So tight… So much better than I’d ever imagined.” He’s looking at you with pleasure screwed across his face, and the sight of him so desperate makes you feel powerful.

“Tom,” you whimper. “I can feel you so deep.” You’re starting to unravel, feeling him everywhere. With the thumb still rolling over your clit, his hand weighing down your hip, and the tip of his cock brushing deeper each time you come together, you can feel yourself on the verge already. “Can you… I can’t…”

“Y’wanna flip?”

“Yeah. Please.”

It happens easily, without Tom falling from you. A moment later, you’re resting over the warm mattress, wrapping your legs around Tom’s back and pulling him closer as he rails you into the bed. He’s faster than you’d been, and the new angle opens you up deeper, allowing his tip to press more pronouncedly against your g-spot. His chain dangles against your neck, the cool metal scorching against your flushed skin.

“Oh god,” Tom groans. The sounds of your bodies meeting as he roughly thrusts into you, again and again, fill the air. “You’re so perfect. Feels so good.” His eyes are dark as they meet with yours, swirling with unrestrained lust. “So wet, lovie. D’you like it when I fuck you? Yeah? Pussy’s squeezing me so tight. My pussy, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, liking how it sounds.

Tom grunts and drills into you faster. With each rotation of his hips against yours, his thick head reaches further, dragging across your g-spot with ease and causing sparks to race up your spine. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and you clutch at his torso for purchase as you scramble to stay grounded. When you add a hand to your clit, you feel your cunt clench, squeezing his length and making him groan again.

‘I’m not gonna last, love. Shit. Feels too fucking good,” he whimpers.

You bring his lips back to yours, meeting them clumsily as you moan. Your skin is hot and sweaty, being smothered by the heat of his body bearing down on you. You wind your free hand into his hair. “It’s okay,” you get out, voice catching. “I’m so close, Tom. Fuck. Make me cum. Please.”

You ride the edge for a few moments more before Tom cries out, calling your name in a voice so exerted and broken that it pushes you over the edge too. As his cock pulses against your walls and his groans fall like music to your ears, you let everything go, basking in the pleasure that crashes over your figure in thick, consuming waves. Tom’s hands are slick as they grasp at your sides, but he’s holding you tightly in place and you like it.

When the air finally clears, Tom pulls out, collapsing onto the mattress beside you with a loud groan. You flip onto your side, quivering as your core pangs with pleasurable aftershocks, your tired eyes drifting up to meet his. He reaches out, sweaty palm drifting to your face as he cups your cheek and smiles at you.

“Well,” he starts, voice low. He pulls you closer, and you carefully curl yourself into his arms. Tom nuzzles his lips against your forehead and leaves three light kisses to your skin. “That was a heavenly experience.”

You snort, burying your face in his chest and feeling the cool metal of his chain press to your skin. “Heavenly?”

“Mhmm. Because you’re an angel. My angel.”

You smile into his front. “What a charmer,” you say.

Tom combs some fingers over your hair and softly coaxes you away from his chest. Both of you share a pillow, his deep brown eyes feel of inquisition as he looks at you.

“Darling,” he mumbles, speaking slowly, almost nervous. “I like you a lot. And… And I know the circumstances are messy and complicated, but… I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I want this to be an every time thing. I want you to be my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“Yeah. My girlfriend.” Tom’s handsome eyes flutter over your face. “What do you say?”

You trace your index finger around the sculpted lines of his face, smiling softly as his lips pull into a grin. You think about how your life has changed since the first night you met him, and how your heart has slowly learnt to gravitate towards him. Tom’s right—it is messy, and maybe your union is complicated and a little wrong too, but it feels good. Him kissing your forehead and pulling you closer feels good. He feels good.

“Yeah,” you agree, speaking slowly. “I would really like that.”

Tom’s face splits into a smile, and he pushes in to kiss you. “Good,” he murmurs. “‘Cos I’m gonna woo you every single day of your life. I’ll bring you tea every morning, tuck you in at night. Make you moan louder than you’ve ever moaned in your life—”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already won me over, Tom, you can calm down—”

“Nope.” Tom’s grinning widely as he continues to peck your lips, unable to keep his hands off you. “I’ll keep charming you until I’ve won your heart, babe. This is just how it’s got to be.”

You kiss him, not knowing how to tell him that he’s already had your heart, firmly in the palm of his hand, since the very first night you met.

“Well,” you respond, voice quiet in the air. “I quite like the sound of that.”

Tom nuzzles his nose against you, lips brushing yours. “Yeah?”

You hum affirmatively and reach up to bury your hands back into his hair. “Yeah.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

:D let me know what you think please !!! I would love to know if you have a favourite scene...?! I am torn between y/n putting tom to bed + the lecture theatre...lmk (if you want !!)

mlist + taglist are through the link in my bio <3 

thank you for reading!! <3<3