#stop being so mean Brandon

[floralovebot]

obviously Do Not take this as me supporting jkr but unfortunately i have fallen back into the hp nostalgia and i can't stop thinking about a winx au set in the hp universe and i have simply fallen in love with slytherin tecna i cannot deny

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Wizards

[at unicorn fuck club] Brandon Sanderson: boy, i love being a fantasy writer! Sanderson: and the best part of being a fantasy writer? Sanderson: it's talking about wizards! Terry Goodkind: wizards? did you say wizards?? Goodkind: i LOVE talking about wizards! Sanderson: me TOO!

Sanderson: i mean, why even be a fantasy writer if you don't like wizards? Diane Duane: i write about wizards too! some of them are cats! Tanya Huff: OMG me two!!! Huff: TWINSIES!!!

Sanderson: how about you george? how do you feel about wizards? GRR Martin: well see the saga of fire and ice is based on the historical war of the roses so actually its p realistic Martin: just kidding, of course there's wizards! Goodkind: WIZARDS! Sanderson: WIZARDS! Duane: WIZARDS! Huff: WIZARDS!

Sanderson: you gotta like wizards if you're gonna write fantasy Sanderson: jrrt, how do you feel about wizards? Tolkien: wizards? Tolkien: meh Tolkien: they're okay Sanderson: Goodkind: Martin: Duane: Huff:

Sanderson: tell us about the wizards in middle earth, jirt Tolkien: ugh god Tolkien: why do you always want to know about the wizards Tolkien: i have literally no interest in talking about these wizards Tolkien: when we could be talking about the hobbits sexy sexy feet Tolkien: big hairy stinky feet

Sanderson: c'mon jirt tell us about the wizards Tolkien: ok fine Tolkien: well there's gandalf the gray Tolkien: and saruman the white Tolkien: and umm radagast Tolkien: he's brown

Tolkien: and then there's like Tolkien: ummmm Tolkien: two other guys Sanderson: what're their names? Tolkien: what? oh jeez Tolkien: i gotta come up with TWO more wizard names? Tolkien: god this is intolerable

Sanderson: c'mon jirt you've got us all wondering Sanderson: you can't just say there are these other wizards and not tell us anything about them Tolkien: ugh christ Tolkien: fine Tolkien: they're Tolkien: god i dunno what colors are left Sanderson: there's blue Tolkien: fine that's it they're blue

Sanderson: wait both of them? Tolkien: yeah Sanderson: they're both blue? Tolkien: yeah Sanderson: Sanderson: you know there's a whole rainbow of color options Tolkien: oh my god shut up Tolkien: i am so fucking tired

Sanderson: so there's gandalf the gray, saruman the white, radagast the brown, and two blue guys Tolkien: yeah thats right Sanderson: and the blue guys aren't named Tolkien: nope Sanderson: Sanderson: ok but Tolkien: why do you all care so much about these stupid blue guys Tolkien: just accept it!

Tolkien: just deal with it, you foolish son of a took! Sanderson: Tolkien: you dotard! Naught but a ninnyhammer! Sanderson: [looking at his CTR ring] Now calm down, brandon-diddly-diddly-diddly-doodly, he's doing their best, shodilly-iddly- iddly-diddly. Gotta be nice, hostility-ility-biddly- diddly

Sanderson: if you didn't want to talk about wizards, why'd you even make the blue guys? you could have stopped at 3 Tolkien: i was on the spot, okay? i panicked! Tolkien: you lot with all your wizard pressure! Tolkien: i don't care about wizards!

Tolkien: listen, assholes, i got into fantasy for exactly 3 reasons: Tolkien: sexy hobbit feet Tolkien: feasts Tolkien: and fuckin' tom bombadil! Sanderson: tom bombadil? Tolkien: he's only the most important thing in middle earth! Tolkien: that capering buffoon of a wifeguy holds it all together!!

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 (it’s getting out of control) of Charmed Slasher Simon.

Part 4 is here. (Master list coming soon)

(Slight warning for a coworker being a bit of a pushy creep but Simon handles it)

“Riiiiileyyyy.”

Ah, that’s your naughty voice. It means he’s going to want to do awful, terrible things to you out of pure endearment for your cheek.

He turns, arches an eyebrow as you nearly skip up to him. Your hair is shorter.

“New haircut?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t twitching to bury in it and pull your head back.

“Yup! Thought about dyeing it orange, but decided it would clash with my flat.”

He snorts, gives in to the urge to curl a strand around his finger, watches it bounce back into place. You don’t seem to mind, sticking your cute little tongue out at him. (If you’re not careful, he’s going to put you on your knees and have you wrap it around his cock right there.)

“Sensible choice,” he replies, “yellow is more your color.”

You giggle, aren’t bothered by his flat, almost inflectionless tone. “You think?”

“Highlighter yellow. Or maybe banana.”

“Hey, I like bananas!”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Big ones?”

You shove at him, face going hot. He doesn’t move an inch, not that you were trying hard. Touchy little thing. You remind him of those little birds that flutter around lions, picking and pecking right under their noses, amusing themselves with death.

“Don’t be icky, Riley.”

“Icky.”

“Gross nasty.”

“We’re name calling now?”

“It’s not name calling if it’s true.”

He clicks his tongue, ushers you into the building.

“There a reason for the new hair?” he asks, eyeing it. It’s pretty, don’t get him wrong. But he didn’t know you were getting your hair cut today.

“Fancy office party tonight,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “My stylist just managed to get me in, but now I’ve gotta rush to get ready.”

“Now who said you could go out?”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” you laugh, clearly thinking he’s teasing. He’s not. If you looked at his face, you’d know it. But you’re busy fussing with your keys, trying to unlock your door.

“I might.”

“Oh, you stop,” you huff, shaking your head. “It’s not even movie night!”

He’s been coming over once a week to watch a movie and drink with you. One of you picks the movie, the other picks the takeaway. He always chooses a horror movie, likes how your eyes water when you get truly scared. You refuse to watch slashers (haven’t told ‘Riley’ why) but you’ll indulge paranormal ones.

It’s not movie night - those are on Saturdays. This is Friday.

“What if I just kidnap you?” he asks. “Keep you in all weekend?”

You hum as if in thought, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Could I go back to work on Monday?”

“Have to see how I’m feeling on Sunday.”

You giggle. “A tempting offer, but you’ll have to settle for kidnapping me just for Saturday.”

“I don’t think you understand how kidnapping works.”

“I’d be a terrible hostage,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue. “I have to pee when I’m nervous, I’d be talking their ear off - and! I cry like, so much.”

Oh he knows. He thinks of tears running down your pretty face when he cums.

“Some kidnappers like the crying. Theyre sadists.”

You scrunch your face. “But it’s like… gross crying. Total mess. And I make dying seal noises.”

No, you don’t, not in his experience with you at least. But he’s not going to explain that to you.

“Didn’t you have something to get ready for?” he asks because he’s violently wrestling the urge to make good on his threat.

“Fuck!” You glance at your watch, brows scrunching. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you, Riley Simmons.”

“Oh no.”

You stick your tongue out at him one last time and disappear behind your door.

—

He hears you come back at 11:30, has been waiting up. Pauses when he hears two sets of footsteps, a man’s voice talking to you. A wave of bloodlust nearly drowns his better sense.

You brought someone home from a work event? Did you lie to him and go on a date?

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door, Brandon.”

“Was happy to. Don’t want anyone snatching you up off the street now, do we?” An annoying laugh. Yours sounding a little flat and strained joining him.

“Oh, hey, mind if I come in?” Brandon asks. So casually, as if the yes is expected.

Simon’s hands ball into tight fists.

“Ah, it’s pretty late…”

“Well, that’s what Saturday is for, right?”

Oh. That little roach. Simon’s going to hang him by his own guts.

“I have plans tomorrow, actually.”

Good girl.

“That’s alright,” Brandon persists. “Just one drink. Least you can do since I went out of my way, right?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to, I would have been fine.”

There’s some genuine annoyance in your voice this time. Simon’s proud.

“Nah, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go home after having drinks?” Brandon chuckles.

“I didn’t have that many - and anyway I’m here now, so…”

“And so am I. At least a little something for my troubles?”

And Simon hears just the slightest, faintest ruffle of clothes.

That’s enough.

Simon yanks his door open and steps out. You’re nearly pancaked to your own door, head snapping to him with relief.

“Riley!”

Brandon takes a step back, expression stormy. Simon almost laughs. Little prick is barely taller than you, has done hard work maybe twice in his life. His hands look softer than yours. And he’s wearing a sweater vest.

“Did we wake you up?” you ask.

Simon saunters down the hall towards you. The closer he gets, the more nervous Brandon gets. But you seem to relax a bit more with each step, even shift towards him.

Very good girl.

“Was already up.” He doesn’t look away from Brandon, radiating menace.

You hum in understanding - know Simon keeps late hours. Brandon clears his still-intact throat and you jolt a bit, expression wilting.

“Oh, um. Riley this is my coworker. Brandon, this is Riley, my neighbor.”

“How do you do?” Brandon replies stiffly.

Simon’s not playing along.

“You try to push her again, someone will be pushing you in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Understand?”

Brandon sputters while your eyes go adorably wide, expression caught between horror and gratitude. Like you don’t know if you should be condoning his threats.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Not yet, but you will if I see you here again, yeah?”

Brandon’s face drains of blood. You press your lips together.

“Now get the fuck out. I’ve got her from here.”

Brandon, worm that he is, scurries away with a hasty “see you Monday”. You don’t reply, too busy blinking up at Simon with parted lips.

He chucks you gently under the chin, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Off to bed. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow.”

You audibly swallow, then nod.

“Thank you.”

“Good manners.”

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Masterlist

[seadeepspaceontheside]

I AM NOT GOING TO ADD MORE TOO THIS BECAUSE I GOT TOO MUCH ON MY PLATE but this was my KnightAu I had for Hob and Dream that you can read under the cut where I post about it earlier.

I am never gonna draw house of the dragon fanart but like I love insanity of how Cole and Alicient have for their former love (Rhaenyra) to fuck in her bed and thoughts of her non-stop. Which leads me to this Knight AU because I am honestly torn with the idea of a Dark!Hob that would do anything for their King until he was spurred because God Damn Fabien Frankel looks like a Young Hob. Or Hob Knight who is more like Harwin Strong/Ryan Corr who understands Dream's position and is loyal to him and is very much happy being the consort and a step-father to the King's children. Or even there are two Knight Hobs maybe either brothers (a year or two apart) or twins that are now at each other's throats over it. The older (Robert) who had the favour and then turned vengeful and vindictive not only his obsession with now King Morpheus while his younger brother/twin is now taken with the King. (Morpheus didn't think he would be King because of his older brother and sister. But incidents happen, so his brother Potmos/Destiny and the relm refusing Teleute/Death puts him in line of heir so he had to marry Calliope. Morpheus knowing that giving up the throne to his younger siblings was a bad idea. He would have run away with Robert when he wasn't heir. As well as his Calliope and Morpheus had an agreement that they could love others but Robert saw that as not being as in love with him) Robert hating how his younger brother mocks the nature of knighthood and coming to with such ease and now the King's favour and love. The Younger being always had feeling in his brothers shadow when Morpheus is with him. Hob had always feelings for the young lord when they were young but knowing that Rob and Morpheus were in love he was content with just being in love afar. It is not till later when his brother has no more right to the King's heart that he goes for it. And when his Older taunts him as a replacement and how the King has failed that he needs to be held back by fucking a hoard of knights from kicking the shit out of his older.

Much like Eddard and Brandon, I think just because Older Hob was his first love does not mean it was his real or true love. King Murphy would love Younger Hob knight as he is who he is and tells them apart a lot. And Morpheus has always cared for Hob but it grew into a more of a love. Much like later in life like Rhaenyra does hate Cole, he hates !DarkOlderHob for what he has become and how he makes his brother feel.

Either way watching HOTD gave me knight Hob feels. (seeing Harwin Strong do the thing with the nod and the rabbit I am like oh thats so Hob)

Also yes Dream does get kidnapped by the Scorned lord Rodrick Burgess and they cut his hair for proof to ransom! Also I said in the replies but *** Hob when he does get with Morpheus shaves to look more like Rob thinking it would be better to be basically his brothers replacement but Morpheus loves him the way he looks.

[niabang]

Peaceful Arguments

Pairings: Bangchan × fem reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You and your boyfriend got into a huge fight and you have a "special" way of reconciling.

Warnings: smut included (Minors dni). Hard dom/possessive chan, angst, angry/makeup sex, bratty sub reader, overstim/edging, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy.) Drew inspiration from Chan's bbl messages if you can tell hahaha.

More under the cut!!

Well, this honeymoon phase ended pretty quickly. How did you and your boyfriend go from finding everything adorable and cute to fighting every now and then?

You could still live with it. It was just the usual couple bickering, and it always ended with you bent over the kitchen counter or squirming under your boyfriend, so a win was a win for you.

But it never got this bad. This time, voices were raised, and insults were bouncing off the walls of your apartment.

"Y/n, I don't have time for this. Just leave me alone." Your boyfriend Chan said standing right in front of you.

"What do you mean you don't have time for this when you started it!?" Why was he pulling the victim card when he instigated this mess?

"What the fuck did I start y/n?" He was really acting innocent.

"Well, for starters, you pulled me out of a party and yelled at me in public, insinuating that i was cheating on you while you were right there? That was so embarrassing. You're being such an immature dick right now." You said.

"I'm immature? How did you expect me to react when you were basically fucking another guy just 10 inches away from me huh? Don't act stupid because I know you aren't." Okay, maybe the dance you shared with your former classmate did get a bit too intimate, but you shut it down once you saw he was getting the wrong idea.

Your boyfriend was kind of (really) overreacting right now.

"Did you just call me stupid?" You asked him cocking an eyebrow.

"Y/n I didn't call you stupid. I said, "Don't act like it." Use your head." Oh, he was actually calling you stupid.

"You're being so fucking dramatic right now Chan. You asked me who he was, and I told you he was a former classmate from high school. I told you that I fucking shut it down when I noticed he was getting the wrong message..."

"You yelled at me in PUBLIC Chan fucking hell I am not a child or your property I'm a grown woman who can think and speak for herself."

"Okay, then y/n go think for yourself into someone else's pants I don't want to have this conversation anymore." There was no way he was being serious.

"You are such an insecure bitch, I hate you so much. I can't stand you." You said.

"Then I'll leave then. Let's talk tomorrow because you're clearly confused." He turned and picked up his car keys from a tiny bowl on the kitchen island and proceeded to the door.

"No. Who said anything about tomorrow? Don't come back till you're ready to accept the fact that you're wrong and apologise to me." He stopped in his tracks and turned to face you.

"Now that's where you have it wrong. I won't be back until YOU apologise to me and cut off all contact with that guy whatshisface..." Wow, so you were both dropping ultimatums now okay.

"He has a name, and it's Brandon." You corrected him, and just at the perfectly wrong timing, you received a call, and it was Brandon. Chan took a look at your phone and laughed.

"Oh fuck off y/n." He walked out and closed the door behind him then you heard his car zoom off.

Good riddance.

You called Brandon back, and the poor guy was only calling to apologise for causing war between you and your boyfriend and even offered to speak to him on your behalf but you told him not to bother.

Not that it would even work. That would only make things worse between you and chan.

You slept it off and woke up the next day expecting to see texts and missed calls from your boyfriend, but you got nothing.

You were a bit hurt because part of you hoped that he would come crawling back, but you couldn't have everything you asked for. Could you?

It was 4 p.m. now, and you had successfully spent your day lazing about and binge watching a crappy sitcom on Netflix.

You missed your boyfriend. You really did, but you had to be strong because you knew you weren't the one in the wrong.

God, you were so pathetic. You hadn't even eaten all day because of a man, and it made you remember how mad he'd get if he realised that you were skipping meals and not taking care of yourself properly.

Life was so sickening without him (it had only been a day).

You decided you were going to make yourself a quick sandwich because you were already dying of heartbreak, and it'd be wrong to add hunger to your struggles.

6:30 p.m., you received a text from Chan saying he was coming over to pick up his stuff and added that you could throw them out if you wanted to.

He was so dramatic. You replied to him with a simple "fine" and turned off your phone.

You were just about to start making your sandwich when you heard a key turn in the lock.

He was here to pick up his stuff.

You were so happy to see him, but you had to keep your cool and act like you weren't because you didn't want to stroke his already inflated ego.

"Am I not going to get a hey or anything?" He said after he had come in and locked the door, but you completely ignored him and kept on eating your sandwich at the kitchen island.

"So you're ignoring me now, huh? You gon do me like that?" You still didn't pay any attention to him and kept munching on your sandwich.

You heard him scoff and watched him find his way into your once shared bedroom.

You shouldn't have looked up at him, though, because now you were horny. Did he really have to wear the grey sweatpants and compression shirt combo today? Of all days?

He was definitely doing this on purpose. He knew what he was doing, but no, you weren't going to give in.

He came out of the bedroom carrying his two suitcases and proceeded to the living area to pack up his console and the other things that accompany it.

You stood up from the chair you were eating on, and you were now leaning backwards with your elbows rested on the kitchen island.

You were watching his every move in silence.

You expected him to just finish packing his stuff and leave, but he stopped halfway, got up, and started walking towards you?

He came closer till there was only an inch of space between you two, and you had to crane your neck upwards to look at him.

"Baby, what are we even doing?" He said and your stomach did a thousand flips.

"I don't know you tell me." You were determined not to fold today.

"What do I have to do to make you come back to me." He sighed and placed his hands on your hips. Fuck.

You placed your hands on his and took them off your hips, and widened the gap between you two a bit.

"Come on." He said in an almost whiny tone.

"Beg me." You didn't even think before you spoke, but that was the smartest thing you had said in a while.

Your boyfriend looked at you unbelievably and scoffed at you like there was no way he was going to do it.

"You can just pack up and leave if you aren't going to do it." You were doing so good.

"Okay, fine, you win." There was no way he was actually agreeing to this.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry for being an insecure and immature boyfriend. I acted like a dick and I was in the wrong but it's been hell without my girl and I miss her so fucking much my heart hurts, my tummy hurts, my head hurts and I can't even think straight it feels like the walls are closing in on me and I'm going to stop breathing at any second..."

"Bro, okay, I accept. Stop being a drama queen." You said half laughing at your boyfriend.

"Does that mean I can kiss you now?" He asked.

"Say, please." Maybe you just wanted to hear him beg a tiny bit more.

"Please y/n can I kiss you, please?" He was surprisingly playing along well.

"Ye-"

You felt his lips on yours before you could even finish your sentence. Oh God, you missed this. You missed him.

You guys were kissing each other so hungrily with tongues gliding in and out of each other's mouths. You could feel his hard on against you and you wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you.

Chan bit your lower lip, and you felt him smile against your lips when you let out a moan. He was so damn cocky.

You started to undo the strings to his pants, but when he realised what you were doing, he broke the kiss and moved away from you.

You were slightly (very) confused as to why he did that, and you're pretty sure you whined as he broke contact between you two.

He looked at you up and down and bit his lip.

"When did you get this skirt? Is it new?"

You looked down at what you were wearing and it was even too short to be called a skirt but you were at home so who cares?

"It's not new. I've had it for years, but I stopped wearing it because it got too short." Why were you guys talking about clothes when he could be breaking your back right now?

"I want to be rough with you." Oh, you were so back.

"Then be rough with me." You replied, looking straight into his eyes.

"Fuck." Chan said. Before you could even say anything else, you were being hoisted up onto the kitchen island, and chan went back to devouring your lips.

He went down to your neck with a hunger, and your hands went into his hair. He was definitely leaving marks on your skin.

You were moaning his name uncontrollably, and you guys hadn't even gotten started yet. Maybe absence does really make the heart grow fonder.

He stopped kissing you once again, but this time, he was giving instructions.

"Get down and take off your clothes." You got down immediately and started to comply, but he stopped you when you got to the skirt.

"No, not that. I want to fuck you in it." You died a little at that statement.

"Take off your panties." He said.

"I'm not wearing any." You're a 100% sure you saw his eyes darken at that statement.

"Okay, turn around and rest on the island." You complied without saying a word.

Your cheeks were met with the cold marble and you could feel your ass and pussy completely exposed to him.

You felt chan come closer to you, and you let out a moan when he started to rub his dick in between your folds teasing your entrance.

You thought he was finally going to fill you with his dick but instead, you were met with a hard slap on your ass and you let out the nastiest moan ever.

One slap turned into two, three turned into four, and your cheeks were stained with tears.

Chan gave you no time to collect yourself as he pushed himself inside you and thrusted agonisingly slowly to gain a rhythm.

You started whining from how slow he was going and as if he knew he started pounding into you as fast as he could.

He filled you so well it was like you were two pieces of a puzzle.

He was fucking you so well you were loosing your mind and your stamina.

Chan noticed and used one hand to steady you then continued his assault on your pussy.

You started feeling that familiar feeling in your stomach and you knew you were about to cum.

"Chan, please don't stop." You begged.

He, in fact, did not stop, but just as you were about to reach your high, he pulled out and left you an unsatisfied mess.

"Did you really think it was going to be that easy?" He asked you in the most condescending tone ever.

"You liked it when I acted all weak and nice, huh? Well, it's your turn now." Fuck. You should have known there was a catch.

He smacked your ass once again and your pussy clenched around nothing.

"Not so confident now, are you?" He taunted.

"Chan I'm sorry please just fuck me please." You begged hoping to make things better for yourself.

"What do you want?" He asked you.

"I want to cum chan please make me cum." You whined.

"You'll have to earn it because only good girls get to cum." He said that and went back to destroying your insides.

This man edged you not once but three times.

At this point, you were sobbing uncontrollably, and you were worn out.

"Who does this pussy belong to?" He asked while thrusting in and out of you at the speed of light.

"You Chan." You said through tears.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked.

"You chan." You struggled to get that last one out.

"That's my good girl." He said and finally let you cum. Your release hit you like a brick, and he came right after you, too. You felt so full that you were literally on cloud 9.

Chan lifted you from the island immediately after, turned you to face him, and gave you a kiss on your forehead.

"You know I love you, right?" He asked, and you nodded.

"Let's not fight anymore, okay?

"Okay." You answered, and he pulled you in for a hug.

You were so back!

You did lie about one thing, though. The makeup sex was too good for you guys to stop fighting.

There were many more fights to come.

[strawberryraviegutz]

I love both versions of Eric Draven.

Yeah that’s right I said BOTH. Both versions of the crow bring different things to the table and I understand being a bit biased due to nostalgia, but just cuz you don’t like it doesn’t give you the right to shit on everyone involved with the movie without giving it a chance or at least acknowledging that it’s at least gonna urge/encourage younger generations to go look for the og film which should be considered a good thing cuz it means more ppl are gonna discover how amazing the crow as a whole is.

I’m elder gen z and was introduced to the crow by a goth couple on YouTube(it was either before or after I heard about the remake.)It wasn’t until I heard about the remake that I finally stopped procrastinating and watched it. And I loved it. It was rlly good. As for the more recent one. I don’t necessarily hate it tho there are some things I wish they had done differently.

But maybe it’s cuz I like the 1994 one a bit better. I still enjoyed the crow 2024 tho. And I also understand the whole loyalty and respect to Brandon Lee cuz he died durimg the making of the crow.

But I don’t think Brandon Lee would appreciate you guys using him to put down another actor’s hard work if he were still alive today. He wasn’t even the only person to play Eric either. Someone else who wasn’t Bill Skarsgard played Eric in one of the other films.(I think. Feel free to correct me)Not to mention I think we’re all forgetting that the og source material isn’t the 1994 movie. The Crow was originally a comic book series.

I’m not here to tell you what you should or shouldn’t like. But I am here to tell you to maybe calm down a bit. It’s fine if the crow 2024 isn’t your cup of tea or if you like the 1994 movie better.

What isn’t ok is shitting on/slandering Bill Skarsgard and everyone else involved with the 2024 movie, getting genuinely angry that others enjoyed the 2024 movie, saying that newer fans who got into the crow franchise because of the remake aren’t allowed to like the crow franchise and accusing them of being posers(even tho goth is a music based subculture and there are loads of different types of goth styles but ok. Plus you don’t necessarily need to be goth to enjoy the crow.), and getting genuinely angry at ppl writing fanfics for 2024 Eric Draven.

Both versions of Eric are unique in their own ways and I wish people would stop being so mean about this.

[pfhwrittes]

child free!reader thoughts that have been bubbling away in the brain soup document below the cut.

kyle garrick x gn!reader but with appearances from john price, john mactavish, simon riley and the beloathed brandon (who i've shamelessly stolen from @dragonnarrative-writes)

tags/warnings: pregnancy mention right at the end of the fic (not the reader character), fluff, vague allusions to eating at restaurants (non descriptive).

(banner by @/cafekitsune)

child free!reader who has "child free, that means i don't want kids - not even yours!" as the first line on their dating profile.

child free!reader who goes on a date with john price. he's charming, polite and funny. john tells you early doors that he misread your profile but he didn't want to be rude and cancel the date on short notice so he hopes you don't mind sharing a meal with him. you don't mind as he's good company and takes care of the bill like a gentleman and apologises for wasting your time. you part ways amicably and both wish each other well with the dating scene.

child free!reader whose next date is with john mactavish. he says he doesn't mind if you call him johnny. he's good company and makes you laugh so hard that other people in the restaurant look over at your table. you're having a great time but he brings up his flatmate simon an awful lot. you end up gently suggesting that maybe johnny would prefer to take simon out for dinner instead. johnny gapes at you like a fish for a minute before realising, that yeah, he really would. you exchange numbers at the end of the date and ask him to keep you in the loop with how things go with the mysterious simon.

child free!reader who goes on a date with brandon. it's a crap date. he's late, doesn't apologise, presumes you want to head back to his place and gets annoyed when you pull the brakes on the whole thing. brandon then tells you that he doesn't care any way as he has to pick up his kid from their mum's house in the morning. you leave him to foot the bill and call johnny on your way home to complain about how crap the date was and how you should never have agreed to go on a date that your friend vouched for.

child free!reader who goes out to brunch with johnny and simon the following weekend. you spend a good portion of the brunch watching johnny lean up against simon with a little smile on your face and waggle your eyebrows knowingly when simon steps outside to smoke a cigarette. when simon rejoins you both, you tell them how you're considering deleting your dating profile and embracing singledom forever. simon makes you promise to keep your profile for at least another three days which is weirdly specific but you agree.

child free!reader who gets a message on the dating profile from kyle garrick two days later. you're pretty blunt about not wanting kids and how you won't change your mind and neither are you looking for some short term fling. despite that, kyle is friendly, funny and a little bit flirty over messages so you agree to go out on a date with him. he's even prettier in person than in his photos. kyle is flirty without being pushy, asks you questions about your hobbies without prompting, and he admits that it was simon that gave him a gentle push to message you when you explain that a friend stopped you from deleting your profile before agreeing to go on a date with him.

child free!reader who agrees to go on a second date with kyle after he tells you that he got a vasectomy at 21 because he knew even then that he never wanted to be a dad.

child free!reader that messages the group chat you have with simon and johnny absolutely gushing about kyle's eyes, arms and smile. johnny replies with endless eggplant emojis and simon sends a singular thumbs up.

child free!reader that after four fantastic dates (and one mind blowing night together) decides to delete their dating profile after kyle sleepily mumbles into your neck about wanting to be exclusive.

(and a little bonus scene that i just can't scrap)

child free!reader who goes as kyle's plus one to john price's wedding a year later and you both laugh yourselves silly when you tell your boyfriend that you went out on a very nice date with the groom once upon a time. you toast the bride with matching flutes of a non-alcoholic mocktail as she rests her hand on her very pregnant stomach at the sweetheart table she shares with her new husband.

[onlycosmere]

Brandon Sanderson on the length of Wind and Truth

PumkinFunk:  I appreciate Brandon being self-aware about the fact that he will struggle immensely to keep the word counts down for this series.

KiwiKajitsu: If only he had a better editor

PumkinFunk:  I know this has become a common criticism since Rhythm of War after Moshe Feder retired, but I don't think it's true. One of his editors for his books is Devi Pillai, the head of Tor Publishing Group. The Secret Projects were edited in-house and generally were good. He has a lot of people giving him feedback, both in-house and outside.

jmcgit:  If Brandon wanted to work on revisions for an extra 6 months to refine and streamline the book, he could do it. This is a Brandon thing, not an editor thing. What was Brandon working on up until the last minute before he had to turn the book in? He was working on making the book bigger, squeezing in more content that he wanted to add. Brandon will tell anyone who asks that he likes to write, and dislikes revising.

When an author gets big enough, the publishers and editors lose their ability to rein in the author or make certain demands. Brandon will do what he wants, and if Tor doesn't like it, they can cancel his contract and Brandon can self-publish.

Brandon Sanderson: I realize it's difficult to see behind the veil of publishing, and much is opaque, but this isn't what I was doing during the last few months--I was cutting the book significantly. However, rough draft didn't include Interludes or Epigraphs, which is why it got longer after I cut it down. This draft lost over 60k words, but then I added in the interludes and epigraphs (along with a few key scenes I decided were needed.)

So, let's be clear about a few things. No editor has ever--in my life--cut my books down. It's not what they do. They largely haven't suggested it. Every editor, Moshe included, has always suggested things to change or add--they don't do much trimming. That's all my job, and always has been. Yes, there is a line edit, which does help trim--but I haven't stopped taking those suggestions, and usually go much, much further on a page-by-page case than they suggest.

I dislike revision, which is important for me to explain because I want people to understand that even for someone who loves their job, there are parts I don't like. But I DO it. I do A LOT of it. It's the part I have to force myself to do, but I am very good at it--and if you follow my stories about learning revision, you'll find that I very clearly explain that I didn't get published until I mastered the thing that was hardest for me. I consider my it, perhaps, my greatest strength as a writer--my ability to look at feed back and apply it to improve books.

If they get long, it's not because I've lost an editor. Moshe's strong suit was always diction, not trimming--and Gillian (who does that job now) is quite accomplished at both. She's Joe Abercrombie's editor.

I realize it's odd, because "to edit" means to trim, but an editor doesn't usually trim books--they offer suggestions for changes on the larger scope, and sometimes do a line edit pass to clarify.

Stormlight books are not big because I can't stop writing. You can pick any number of my shorter novels and see I'm quite capable of doing something at a normal book length. Stormlight books are big because that's the art I want to make--and they are not, and never have been, out of control. I am perfectly willing to accept that the story I want to tell has not appealed to some in the last installments! But don't blame my editors. This is an artistic choice of mine, and their job has never been to change the art. I get the same amount of editing now as I ever have--and I take largely the same amount of their feedback.

Note: don't take this as a direct condemnation of you or some of the things /u/KiwiKajitsu said above. It's more that I want to be very clear about my goals, and the process. My stance is one of explaining, not arguing against your opinions, as those are valid and perfectly reasonable ones to hold.

I realize that a long comment reply isn't the best way to prove I can be brief, but I sincerely think the trope of "He got big so he lost the ability to be edited" is not one that I fall into--I am, if anything, the most edited person at the industry, and see more criticism and feedback of my books prepublication than any other author. Editors and beta readers collectively wrote some 800k words of feedback for me over the last two years, which I incorporate. Not just the, "Add this" but also the "this sequence feels slow or unengaging." I am extremely passionate about listening to, and incorporating, editorial feedback.

It's fine to not like what I do. But don't blindly make the argument that I write it, kick it out the door, and don't pay attention to the revision process while ignoring editors.

jmcgit: Hey Brandon, I appreciate the insight! I regret that my post may have come off as if you carelessly "write and kick it out the door", as I know how hard you and your team have been working on the book over the past months and years, and how passionate you are about getting it right.

Brandon Sanderson: No problem and no offense taken! I just see a lot of confusion about these things.

I am edited far, far more now than when I was when I started and nobody cared. Though, admittedly, I think the most editorial scrutiny I ever got was on A Memory of Light a decade ago. I probably get less now, but I also have way more extensive beta reads.

It's just a complex process. And, you also ARE right in your initial post that I could go over it again and again, and some authors do. I'm middle of the road on the number of revisions I do, by my experience. Not as many as someone like Pat R. does. More than a lot of authors. I do not subscribe to the Heinline philosophy of only editing when required by contract that is very popular these days. (This philosophy believes that your initial artistic instinct will be right, and you shouldn't undermine it later on. I am not a fan, even if some people I respect follow this philosophy.)

Anyway, your initial post wasn't far off; I just wanted to offer some more context for this thread.

[exhelluvafan]

“But of course, Viv and co. won't allow this because they need gay porn to jerk off to”

Fucking finally Someone say something that needed to be said because they are not even trying to hide the fact that they are inserting their yoai fantasies and fetishes in season two brandon and Adam (despite those two being shitty writers themselves) and the voice actors are like the only reason why the show haven’t became a animated yaoi porn series

I'm genuinely surprised that not a lot of people outright say this, since it's so painfully clear that both Hazbin and Helluva became softcore yaoi fantasy roleplay sessions, given the abusive tendencies being treated as "hot" and "sexy" both in Hazbin and Helluva, and the fact that the only thing keeping Helluva from outright doing NSFW scenes with fully exposed cocks and balls is the fact that YouTube would restrict the episode immediately and penalize Viv by breaking YouTube's TOS (although, that doesn't stop others from uploading literal porn on YouTube, so... Yeah, I don't trust YouTube on this one), while Hazbin is actively held back thanks to Amazon, but somehow the infamous episode "Masquerade" managed to slide through the cracks of quality control, I mean, how tf did such an explicit and downright triggering episode got greenlit in the first place?!

So yeah, these are my honest thoughts about Viv's shows currently, they're just glorified, shallow furry softcore porn bait, filled with shallow characters with designs specifically made to cater towards porn addicts including Viv herself, and before you question me, check the amount of porn all of Viv's characters have in Rule 34.

[redroomreflections]

Meet The Family

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Black Reader)

The Loud House Universe

Summary: Natasha meets R's family for the first time

W/c: 7k

"Babe, I have no idea what you are so nervous about." You shook your head. You grabbed onto your luggage as you deboarded the plane. "They're going to love you."

"I don't doubt that," Natasha said as she slipped the sunglasses onto her face. It's not like it's her first time flying economy before. She insisted that the two of you act as normal as a couple. That's what she craved. Normalcy. Someone not into the lights and cameras and the novelty of her being a hero. That is why she was excited to do the typical thing of meeting your family.

"Sure doesn’t seem like it,” you teased, nudging her lightly with your elbow as the two of you made your way through the terminal. Natasha’s calm exterior might fool anyone else, but you caught the subtle way she fiddled with the strap of her carry-on, her usual poise betraying just a hint of unease.

“I’m just... being cautious,” Natasha replied with a smirk, though you could hear the sincerity in her tone. “Your family is important to you. That means they’re important to me.”

Her words warmed your heart even as you rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but they’re just regular people, babe. You're not meeting the president. Just eat good food, laugh at my mom's jokes, and pretend we haven't had premarital sex. Which is interesting of a hill to die on for my mom, but..."

Natasha let out a laugh. "I think I can handle that."

"And don't feel intimidated if they ask you many questions about your job," you continued. "I already warned them about keeping the interrogation to a minimum, but my family is the worst when it comes to asking about every little detail."

Natasha stopped, turning towards you with a serious expression. "I am more than prepared for an interrogation. That's my job description."

The two of you continued walking to baggage claim, keeping up with the traffic flow as you talked.

“Okay,” she said suddenly, tilting her head toward you. “Anything I should know before we get there? Any family secrets or rules I should avoid breaking?”

You snorted. “Well, for starters, don’t say you don’t eat pork. My mom might take that as a personal attack on her cooking.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Good to know. What else?”

“Let’s see,” you mused, counting off on your fingers. “Peyton’s going to act like she runs the world because she’s the oldest, Quincy will probably crack a million dad jokes, and Brandon’s baby's mother… well, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t say much. She’s not big on conversation.”

"She's 17, right?" Natasha asked, her eyes widening as you walked through the airport.

"They both are," You nodded. "Everything I've told you about my family before, believe it."

"That's a lot of people," Natasha smiled softly. She'd always been more comfortable being around small groups. The bigger the group, the more uncomfortable she was.

"Yeah," You grinned. "My parents were great at making babies. There's four of us."

"Hmm," Natasha nodded. "Let me guess that's your brother over there with the sign." She gestured with a raise of her chin to the teenaged boy with a toddler in one arm and a sign that read "Welcome back from the Convent."

You burst out laughing as soon as you spotted the sign. "Of course he did," you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. Natasha chuckled beside you, the corner of her mouth quirking up in amusement.

"That's Brandon for you," you confirmed as you adjusted your bag and walked toward him. "Always a comedian."

Brandon caught sight of you as you approached and broke into a grin. "Hey, sis!" he called out, holding the baby with one arm while waving enthusiastically with the other. The baby, a chubby-cheeked little girl with curly hair, looked unimpressed but content in his hold.

"Really, Brandon?" you said, gesturing to the sign as Natasha raised an eyebrow. "A convent? That’s what you went with?"

"What? It’s funny," he replied, shrugging with a smirk. "Gotta keep you humble."

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward to hug him while Natasha stood back, observing the interaction with quiet interest. "And what about me screams ‘convent,’ exactly?"

"Law school, late nights studying, no time for fun—sounds like a convent to me," Brandon teased before shifting his attention to Natasha. "So, this must be the famous Natasha. Welcome to the family."

"Oh, we're not..." Natasha's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she looked at you. "We're not married or anything."

"Yet," He finished with a smile, reaching out to shake her hand. "The way she talks about you, I'd have thought you had already put a ring on it."

"Brandon, stop," You groaned, your cheeks reddening. Natasha looked at you curiously, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"What? It's true. I mean, the whole family's heard all about your girl—"

"Give me my niece. She's getting fussy," You interrupted before he could embarrass you. You and Natasha had been dating for almost a year and a half. She knows practically everything there is to know. But hearing your family's opinion of her made you nervous.

"Fine," Brandon sighed. "You'll have to catch up on all the drama once we're in the car anyway. It's crazy at home."

"Oh? Why's that?" You asked, reaching out to take the toddler in your arms.

"I'll take the bags," He offered to Natasha. He didn't find offense when she declined. He simply kept the conversation going.

"Mom's pissed about Tori," He said, referring to his current girlfriend. "Her parents still won't let her move back home. Also, Peyton and Ross are having some issues. You didn't hear it from me, though. Oh- I parked over here."

He led the three of you to the car, where he opened the trunk and tossed all of your bags in there.

"Hey, that's Gucci," You warned him. "That bag has my laptop."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be careful." He waved you off. "Can you buckle her in?" He asked.

Buckling Willow into her car seat was a feat. It was a new experience that you were excited to have, but she was a wiggler. You were glad to be an aunt and help her dad. You knew Natasha was watching the interaction with interest. Once everyone was seated, Brandon backed the car onto the road and out of the airport parking lot. You were terrified of his driving.

"Mom, let you drive the car," You thought aloud. "That's a first. Peyton and I had to beg her to let us drive practically."

"Well, I'm the baby. I get special privileges," He bragged. "Miss Natasha, you're quiet back there."

"She's fine," You defended her.

"I'm just listening," She replied.

Brandon glanced at Natasha through the rearview mirror as he navigated the freeway. His curiosity was written on his face, and you braced yourself for whatever line of questioning he was about to launch into.

“So,” he started one hand on the wheel and the other drumming lightly on the console. “What’s it like being an Avenger? Do y’all just fight aliens and save the world all day, or is it mostly paperwork?”

Natasha chuckled softly, the sound surprising you a little. She leaned forward just enough to meet Brandon’s gaze in the mirror. “A lot less glamorous than you’d think. Fighting aliens happens occasionally, but it’s mostly meetings, training, and arguing over whose turn it is to clean the kitchen.”

"Wait, you mean to tell me y'all don't have maids or a team to do that stuff?"

"Not for personal stuff, no," Natasha explained.

"And I'm gonna assume there are no benefits, insurance, or anything like that."

"It's government-funded," Natasha said. "So there's plenty of benefits and health insurance."

"Do you get to fly around in a spaceship, or is that reserved for Captain America and Iron Man?"

"There's a jet," Natasha replied.

"Brandon, can we not?" You asked.

"Oh, come on," he protested. "You didn't warn her about the third degree? Besides, it's not like you've seen any action."

"Not directly," You corrected. "But I've watched the news."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to pry. I just want to make sure you're safe. The rest of the fam is going to want to know."

"That's understandable," Natasha said.

"So, what are the chances I'll get a ride in one of those Avengers planes?" He joked.

"Brandon!" You groaned.

"What? Can't blame a guy for dreaming," he laughed. "Okay, I have a real question—do you guys like to hang out? Play cards? Do movie nights? Or is it all business?”

“Depends on the day,” Natasha answered, her voice relaxed. “We’ve had our share of poker nights, but Thor’s terrible at bluffing, and Clint’s too good. Movie nights are better unless someone picks Star Wars. That always ends in arguments about the ‘proper’ order to watch them in.”

“Man, I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall for some of that,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “You ever bring her to the tower?” he asked, jerking his thumb in your direction.

“A few times,” Natasha said, glancing at you with a small smile. “We mostly hang out at her apartment with Karen. She keeps saying she doesn’t want to ‘cramp my style.’”

“Excuse me for wanting to keep a low profile,” you said, feigning indignation. “Unlike you, Brandon, I’m not trying to be best friends with everyone.”

Brandon shot you a look of mock outrage, pressing one hand against his chest.

"You wound me, sister. Truly."

"I'll do worse than that if you don't focus on the road," You warned him.

"Fine, fine." He raised his hands in surrender.

It would be long if the rest of the day would be like Brandon's questioning.

**********

As Brandon hoisted Willow out of her car seat, she babbled happily, grabbing his hair as he balanced her on his hip. “Alright, ladies, this is where I leave you to fend for yourselves,” he said with a teasing grin, holding open the front door with his foot.

“We can manage,” you shot back with a smirk, lugging your bags from the trunk.

“You sure? I can carry the fancy bag,” Brandon said, eyeing your Gucci luggage again.

“Get inside, Brandon,” you said firmly, laughing despite yourself.

Brandon shrugged and disappeared into the house with Willow, leaving you and Natasha standing by the car.

You turned to Natasha, who was sliding her sunglasses off and tucking them into the neckline of her sweater. “Hey,” you said softly, touching her arm. “You good? I know my family can be  a lot.”

"Baby, I'm fine," Natasha said. "Trust me. This is what I do."

"I can't pretend I don't love it when you call me baby." You sighed.

"Well, then maybe I should use it more often," She said. "Also, relax. It's Thanksgiving."

"You're right," You said. "But still, if it gets overwhelming, just let me know."

Natasha nodded, and the two of you headed into the house. As soon as the door opened, the sounds and smells of Thanksgiving Day swarmed around you. Loud, chattering voices, the clatter of dishes, and the mouthwatering scent of roasting turkey filled the house, and you took a moment to close your eyes and soak it in.

"Is that my daughter, I hear?" Your mother's voice rang out from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mama, it's me." You called back. You kicked your shoes off and placed them neatly inside the coat closet. Natasha followed suit.

"Are you the famous girlfriend we've heard so much about?" Your mom asked.

"Yes, ma'am. My name is Natasha."

"Come here, girl, and hug me," your mom ordered, appearing from the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish towel. "My name's Vivian. It's nice to meet you finally."

Natasha initially hugged Vivian, a bit hesitant, but the older woman’s firm and affectionate embrace quickly put her at ease. “It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am,” Natasha said, stepping back with a warm smile. “You have an incredible daughter. I’ve been hearing nothing but great things about you.”

Vivian chuckled, her sharp eyes twinkling as she gave Natasha a once-over. “Well, flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased. “But please, don’t call me ma’am. It makes me feel old. Vivian or Mama Viv will do just fine.”

“Mama Viv, then,” Natasha said with a slight nod, her voice smooth and respectful.

“Good. Now tell me, Natasha,” Vivian said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, “what exactly are your intentions with my baby?”

Your eyes widened as you fumbled for words. “Mama!”

Natasha didn’t miss a beat, though. She clasped her hands together, her expression sincere. “To love her, respect her, and make her proud, ma’am—uh, Mama Viv. And to eat as much of your cooking as you’ll let me,” she added with a playful smirk.

Vivian broke into a laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, she’s good,” she said, glancing at you. “I see why you like her. Alright, Natasha, you’re off to a good start. Come help me in the kitchen, and we’ll see if you can hold your own in there.”

Natasha glanced at you for confirmation, and you gave her a subtle nod. She followed Vivian into the kitchen without hesitation. You followed behind, though, at a slower pace. The next few moments were crucial for first impressions.

"I'll warn you, I'm not a great cook," She said.

"That's alright," Vivian said. "I'll put you to work peeling potatoes or something. Wanna see if you'll pull your weight around here."

You smiled, hearing them chat back and forth. It was a good sign. You were sure your mom would find something Natasha could do.

"You made it," Quincy's voice boomed from behind you. He didn't give you time to react before he pulled you into a bear hug. "And you brought Natasha."

"Of course," You laughed.

"Good." He nodded. "I was worried you were going to bail on us. You never come home anymore."

"Don't start, Quincy," You rolled your eyes. "I was home last Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, after not coming home for a whole year," He said. "Introduce me to your girlfriend." He grinned. He was starstruck.

"She's helping Mom cook," You informed him. You both walked into the kitchen and saw Natasha shaking hands with your sister, Peyton. Brandon was at the counter feeding a few strawberries to Willow as his girlfriend Tori sat beside him on her phone. She seemed completely unaware of the world around her.

"So, you're an Avenger," Peyton said, her tone a little skeptical. "I must admit we didn't believe y/n when she said she was dating you."

"Oh really," Natasha said, quirking an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Well, it's not every day a girl claims she's dating the Black Widow," Peyton pointed out.

"Yeah, but y/n isn't exactly the type to make shit up," Quincy interrupted.

"Language, boy," Vivian warned from her place at the stove.

Natasha chuckled, her eyes flickering to Peyton and then to Vivian, who had her back turned to the stove. "Don’t worry, I’ve heard worse," she said, giving Quincy a playful wink.

"See?" Quincy smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Told ya."

Vivian turned from the stove, placing a wooden spoon on the counter. "Alright, enough with the show, everyone. Peyton, get the table set. Quincy, stop trying to embarrass your sister. And you," she pointed at Natasha, "come help me with this cornbread."

Natasha nodded and stepped over to Vivian, who seemed confident in her kitchen. "What can I do?" Natasha asked, her hands instinctively moving to help without waiting for an answer.

"First things first," Vivian said, pushing a bowl of ingredients toward her, "you’re going to stir this batter, but carefully. I like a nice smooth texture for the cornbread."

Natasha rolled up her sleeves, already comfortable in the space. "I’ve got it. I’ll make it the best cornbread you’ve ever had."

Vivian, clearly pleased, gave her a once-over before speaking again. "You’re making good impressions so far, Natasha. Y/n deserves someone who knows their way around the kitchen." She eyed Natasha for a moment, her smile warm. "You do all your cooking, or is someone else handling that?"

"I do a bit of both," Natasha replied, gently mixing the batter. "But I’m always down for new recipes, especially if they come from someone who knows what they’re doing. I'm not a great cook but a fast learner."

"Well, we'll see how you do here," Vivian said.

"I guess I'll start on the pies," You rolled up your sleeves to wash your hands. A perk of flying in on Thanksgiving day was being late to the party. It was a last-minute decision to come home.

"You better be making a chocolate one," Peyton warned.

"Peyton, hush." Vivian shushed her.

"I can't wait to try it," Brandon said, his attention still on his daughter.

"I think the last thing that kid needs is sugar," Peyton teased, poking the little girl's belly. She squealed, kicking her chubby little legs.

"The sugar is the best part," Brandon retorted, kissing his daughter.

"She's getting big," You observed. "Is she talking yet?"

"No," Brandon said. "Not yet. She'll get there eventually. I can't believe she's a year old. Feels like just yesterday she was born."

"Yeah," You nodded. "Hi, Tori." You said to Brandon's girlfriend.

"Hi," She had the decency to look up from her phone.

You sat at the kitchen table, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you glanced at Tori. Finding someone like her who kept to themselves was rare, but you knew it was essential to show interest. "So, Tori, how's school and everything? I mean, besides, you know, trying to avoid getting caught in the middle of this chaotic family," you teased lightly, gesturing around the room.

Tori blinked, clearly surprised by the question, but then she seemed to soften, a hint of relief in her eyes. "Well, school is fine. I've been attending every day. I want to be a nurse," she said, her voice quieter than usual but more animated than you'd seen before. "I’ve always liked the idea of helping people, you know? I’ve been thinking about moving to Louisiana after high school to study. My aunt lives there, and she’s been telling me to come stay with her while I figure things out."

"That’s awesome," you said, genuinely interested. "Is it something you’ve wanted to do for a while?"

"Yeah," she nodded, looking down at her hands briefly. "I’ve always kind of gravitated toward taking care of people. And... I don’t know. Louisiana feels like a place where I could start fresh, away from all the stuff back here." She paused, her eyes flicking briefly to Brandon, who was still sitting with Willow. "I just... I think I could do more there. Maybe even learn some things to help me get my life on track."

You nodded thoughtfully, respecting her quiet resolve. "I think you’ll do great."

Brandon, listening in from across the room, chimed in with a knowing smile. "Yeah, we're still figuring it all out. Tori's been thinking about it, but we're also trying to figure out how to ensure Willow stays close to family." His expression softened as he glanced at his daughter. "I’m not sure how I feel about taking her away from everyone... but Tori’s excited, and it’s a big opportunity for her."

Tori shot Brandon a small, appreciative smile, though she didn’t say anything.

You could tell there was a lot of unspoken tension around it. You nodded in understanding. "It's a big decision. But I know Willow’s lucky to have you both looking out for her."

"That's so sweet," Tori said.

"I only have to put the collard greens on," Vivian began. "Natasha, do you eat pork?"

"Yes," Natasha answered.

"Good," Vivian nodded.

"What else can I do, Mama Viv?" Natasha asked.

"You're gonna make the biscuits," Vivian ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." Natasha nodded.

Things were going well. Your mom putting Natasha to work meant she was interested in her, which was a plus in your book.

As Natasha busied herself with biscuit-making under Vivian’s watchful eye, Peyton followed you into one of the bedrooms upstairs. You knew by her closeness she was about to say something. Peyton rarely held back when it came to her opinions.

“So,” she began, her tone casual but pointed, “is this thing with Natasha serious? Or is she just another quest, like Melinda?”

You paused, barely glancing at her, placing your bags in the closet. Peyton had always had a knack for finding the most loaded questions to ask, and this was no exception. You took a breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

“First of all,” you said calmly, “Natasha is not a ‘thing.’ She’s my girlfriend, Peyton. And yeah, we’re serious. Also, Melinda wasn't a quest. We were in a relationship for two years."

Peyton shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m just saying. You’ve always had a type, you know? Strong, intense, probably a little emotionally unavailable,” she added with a smirk. “And we all know how that turned out last time.”

You shot her a warning look. “Wow, Peyton. Thank you so much for your insight into my love life. Maybe next time, you can try delivering it without the shade.”

“What? I’m just asking the questions everyone else is thinking,” she said, raising her hands defensively. “I mean, you’ve got a history. Don’t you think it’s fair to wonder how long this one will last?”

"Are you going to start? Dinner is less than three hours away," You sighed. "I came to be with family. You didn't even hug me when I came in the door."

"Because you've been here ten minutes," Peyton argued. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything, y/n. I'm just curious. It's not like we see or talk to you very much."

"Well, I've been busy," You retorted.

"You could've called more," Peyton insisted. "The girls miss you."

"I'm sorry," You shook your head. "Law school has been intense."

Peyton’s eyes flicked to the Gucci bag you’d set neatly by the door, her expression shifting into something slightly amused but undeniably pointed. “That’s a nice bag you’ve got there,” she remarked, her tone light but laced with something else. “Designer, right?”

You bristled, sensing where this was going. “Yeah, it’s a gift,” you replied curtly, refusing to elaborate. You’d learned that giving Peyton more information was like throwing fuel on a fire.

“Must be nice,” she said, her voice slightly more severe. “Meanwhile, Mom’s been stressing over the laundromat. She doesn’t say it outright, but I know things have been tight lately.”

You froze, your jaw tightening. “Peyton—”

“She’s paying your tuition,” Peyton continued, folding her arms. “So, I just think, you know, maybe she deserves to know if you’re spending money on fancy bags.”

“It’s a gift,” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “And last I checked, my education was something Mom was proud to support, not some burden she needed you to fight about.”

Peyton shrugged, unfazed by your defensiveness. “I’m not saying it’s a burden. I’m just saying she’s doing a lot. And maybe you could... I don’t know; check in a little more. Be more aware of what’s going on back home.”

“Wow, Peyton. Thanks for the lecture,” you shot back. “I had no idea you were Mom’s financial advisor now.”

“I’m just saying,” Peyton countered. “You’re out there living your life, and we’re holding things down. It wouldn’t hurt to pick up the phone or swing by more often. The girls miss you, Mom misses you, and whether you want to hear it or not, things aren’t easy around here.”

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. “Look, I get it, okay? I know I’ve been caught up with school and everything else. But you don’t need to guilt-trip me about it. I’m doing the best I can.”

Peyton’s face softened, if only slightly. “I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, y/n. I just... I worry about Mama, and I worry about you too. You’ve got this shiny new life now, and it’s great, but don’t forget where you came from. That’s all I’m saying.”

You shook your head, annoyance and regret swirling in your gut. Part of you wanted to defend yourself, but another part felt like it was too little, too late. Instead, you breathed and tried to let the frustration melt away. Paying your tuition was something your mother did for each of her children. Quincy had gone to get his mechanical engineering degree and became a product engineer. You're still determining exactly what he does, but he earns an excellent salary. Peyton had gone to college and ultimately dropped out after becoming pregnant with the twins in her junior year. Now it was your turn.

You felt that despite how much your mom wanted you to attend law school, the money was tighter than she'd initially let on. It wasn't that she was stingy. Your mom was the most generous person you knew. But she had her pride. You knew you had to pay her back one day.

"Okay, okay," You said, rubbing your temples. "I've been working a lot. I can take out loans if I have to. Just let me talk to Mom. See what she says."

Peyton didn't look entirely convinced. "If you say so."

"Look, it's been a long trip, and I wanted to see everyone and have a good time," You explained. "Are you going to treat me like this the whole time?"

"No," Peyton rolled her eyes. "We can pretend we're normal and get along for one day."

"Good," You said. "Now, can we please just go hang out with everyone? I didn't come from New York to spend the holiday with you lecturing me."

"I love you, little sister," Peyton said as you began to walk past her. "I apologize for coming across that way."

"I know, Peyton," You sighed.

The two of you walked back downstairs, and you returned to the kitchen to see Natasha holding Willow in her arms. You paused in the doorway, your steps slowing as your gaze landed on Natasha. She held Willow close, her movements careful yet natural, like she’d been doing this forever. Willow babbled happily, one tiny hand clutching at Natasha’s necklace and the other reaching up to pat her cheek. Natasha smiled, a soft, genuine curve of her lips that you didn’t get to see often.

It was... endearing. Unexpected but endearing.

Natasha had always struck you as someone who thrived in control, her precision and composure unshakeable. But here she was, rocking a squirmy, giggling baby in her arms with a quiet patience that made your chest ache the best way.

She caught you watching, her green eyes meeting yours over Willow’s head. “Hey,” she said softly, a trace of shyness in her voice. “She’s a natural charmer, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice catching just a bit. “She likes you.”

Natasha chuckled, shifting Willow so the baby rested more securely against her shoulder. “I like her too,” she admitted. “But, full disclosure, I have no idea what I’m doing. I think she’s just being nice to me.”

You smiled, stepping closer. “You’re doing fine,” you said, your tone warm. “Better than fine. She doesn’t let just anyone hold her without pitching a fit.”

Willow reached for Natasha’s face again, her little fingers brushing against her cheek. Natasha didn’t flinch, just gently caught the baby’s hand and kissed her tiny palm. The sight was almost too much—tenderness wrapped up in someone so unrelentingly strong.

“Do you want her ?” Natasha asked, her voice light but filled with a bit of hesitation like maybe she didn’t want to let go just yet.

You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “Nah, you’re doing great. Besides, I think she’s already picked a favorite.”

Natasha gave a soft laugh, the sound low and genuine. “Guess I’ll have to live up to it, then.”

Vivian came in a moment later. "Everything's all ready," She said.

"Mom, did you make mac and cheese?" Peyton asked.

"Yes," Vivian nodded. "Your daughter requested it."

"Thanks, Mama," Peyton said.

Vivian glanced at you and Peyton, her eyes narrowing. "Y'all weren't fighting, were you?"

"No, ma'am," You and Peyton said in unison.

"Don't lie," Vivian scolded.

"We're fine," You insisted.

"We can save the arguing after Thanksgiving dinner," Peyton added.

"Alright," Vivian shrugged. "I'm not going to pretend to understand you two."

Natasha glanced between you and your sister, but you did not indicate that you were bothered by what had happened.

"Twins are back," Ross called from the front door as he entered the house with Deyjah and Diamond. All you heard was the pitter-patter of little feet as they kicked off their shoes and ran toward the kitchen.

"There's the troublemakers," You joked, ruffling their heads.

"You're back," Diamond exclaimed, pulling you into a hug.

"I am," You laughed, squeezing her back.

"Did you bring presents?" Deyjah asked, looking up at you expectantly.

"I didn't," You said. "It's not Christmas just yet. Girls, there's someone I want you to meet. This is my girlfriend, Natasha."

Diamond and Deyjah eyed Natasha curiously, their matching gazes assessing her with an unnerving and impressive sharpness.

"Why's your hair red?" Deyjah asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Well, I was born with red hair," Natasha explained. "Just like how y/n was born with dark hair."

"I was born first," Diamond announced proudly, puffing out her chest. "But I don't remember."

"Duh, 'cause you were a baby," Deyjah scoffed.

"Girls," Vivian scolded, "don't be rude. Why don't you go wash up for dinner?"

They did as they were told, rushing off to the bathroom.

"They're pretty cute," Natasha began. "How do you tell them apart?" She directed her question to Peyton.

"There are a few subtle differences," Peyton began. "Diamond has slightly better speech than Deyjah. Deyjah always has some sort of bracelet or necklace on. Though if you look closely, Diamond has a tiny mole on the left side of her neck."

Natasha nodded, seeming satisfied. "So, how old are they?"

"Six," Peyton answered.

"Six," Natasha echoed.

"Yep, six going on sixteen," Peyton joked. "They keep me busy most days."

"I can imagine," Natasha chuckled. "They're smart kids."

"Oh yeah," Peyton grinned. "They're smart."

You couldn't help but smile at Natasha's interest in the twins. She seemed genuinely curious and focused solely on Peyton as she talked about the girls. Seeing someone other than your mom and Brandon engaging with her was refreshing.

"This is my husband, Ross," Peyton introduced.

"Pleasure to meet you," Ross shook Natasha's hand. "Big fan."

"He's a fan," Peyton explained. "He loves all that superhero stuff. I'm not really into it, though."

"I can imagine," Natasha smiled. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Ross."

"Yeah, likewise," he replied, clearly starstruck. "How was the flight?"

"It was alright," You answered. "It's good to be back home."

Indeed it was.

******

The dining room was packed, every seat around the table taken, and a few extra chairs were squeezed in to accommodate the crowd. The smell of collard greens, roasted turkey, and freshly baked cornbread filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of gospel music playing from a speaker in the corner. Laughter and chatter echoed through the room as plates and glasses were passed around.

You sat beside Natasha, her hand resting lightly on your knee beneath the table. She looked calm, but you could tell she was soaking everything in—the voices, the warmth, the energy. She wasn’t used to this world, but she fit into it better than you’d expected.

“Alright, y’all, quiet down!” Vivian’s voice rose above the din, commanding attention. The table settled almost instantly, everyone turning toward her.

She stood at the head of the table, a serene yet authoritative presence. “Before we dig in, we’re going to give thanks,” she said, glancing around the room. “Natasha, since this is your first time joining us, I want you to know how happy we are to have you here. Family is everything to us; today, you’re family too.”

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, and she gave a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mama Viv. That means a lot.”

"Now, in our household, we start with a prayer before Thanksgiving dinner," Vivian said. "I understand that you may not want to participate."

"No, ma'am," Natasha said.

"Well, okay then," Vivian said. "Now, let's bow our heads."

"Bow our heads, everybody," Vivian instructed, and the room obeyed. You noticed that even Natasha bowed her head a little, though her eyes remained open. "Dear Lord, thank you for bringing our family together today."

Natasha observed the room as the prayer went on. This was like a culture study for her. Experiencing a different family dynamic was intriguing.

"I want to thank you for the food and the company. And I pray that our family continues to stay safe and healthy. Amen."

Everyone lifted their heads and said, "Amen."

"Thank you, Mama," Peyton spoke up.

"Thank you, Mom," Brandon agreed.

"Yeah, thank you, Mama," Your brother, Quincy, said.

"Thanks, Mom," You nodded. The food began to be passed around, with everyone choosing which dishes they wanted and didn't want.

"I don't think we've ever had a guest that didn't participate in the prayer," Peyton commented. "Natasha, you were born in Russia, right?"

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly my thing," Natasha said. "I was born in Russia."

"It's not mine either," you said, hoping to diffuse the tension. "I think we all have ways of being thankful, and it's not anyone else's place to judge."

Peyton gave a slight shrug. "I was just curious. No harm meant."

"I get it," Natasha replied.

"You're welcome here, whether or not you believe in God," Vivian assured. "We're all a little different. It's what makes us interesting."

Natasha flashed Vivian a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Mama Viv. I appreciate that."

As everyone dug into their plates, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Silverware scraping against plates filled the air, with only snippets of conversation breaking through the hum of family conversation. Your mom, ever the host, ensured no one went without refills, while your siblings kept things lively with playful banter. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha enjoying the food. Some of the menu options were things she hadn't tasted before. It was endearing and a little heartwarming to see her want things.

"So, Natasha," Brandon leaned forward. "I gotta ask—who is the coolest person you've met?"

"Um..." Natasha's expression shifted into something thoughtful. "Well, I've met many interesting people in my life. I wouldn't say anyone was cooler than the other. Maybe the president?"

Brandon frowned. "I was hoping for someone a little more exciting."

"That is exciting," Quincy said.

"What?" Brandon protested.

"She's Black Widow, and you're asking her about who she's met," Quincy replied. "I want to know her stats. I mean, she's a spy. You must do some pretty cool stunts. What's your training regimen like?"

"Oh, come on," You lowered your fork. "Can we just not talk about work right now?"

"It's okay," Natasha smiled, patting your hand.

"I can answer a few questions," She said.

"Oh yeah," Brandon smirked. "How many push-ups can you do?"

"A lot," Natasha shrugged.

"Do you do chin-ups?" Quincy asked.

"Yes," Natasha said.

"I'd like to challenge you to a push-up contest," Quincy wiped his mouth. "You seem tough, but I bet I could take you."

"I could do the same," Brandon said. "We could all have a contest."

"I'm not going to do a push-up contest," Peyton shook her head. "It's Thanksgiving."

"Fine," Quincy shrugged. "Brandon and I can do it."

"I don't think you guys understand what you're challenging her to," You said. You knew firsthand how athletic Natasha was. Her stamina was out of this world both on and off the field.

"She's an Avenger," You said.

"So," Brandon shrugged.

"She's a trained assassin," You explained.

"I'm sure we could hold our own," Quincy countered.

"No, you can't," You shook your head.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Brandon put his hands up. "It sounds like you don't want us to take your girlfriend. Afraid she might fall in love with one of us?"

"I'm right here," Tori pinched Brandon. "Behave."

"Sorry, babe," Brandon muttered.

"No, I'm not worried," You rolled your eyes.

Natasha smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. "Yeah, I think you guys should sit this one out," she said, her voice laced with humor but just enough seriousness to get her point across. "No offense, but I’ve been around some pretty intimidating people. I’m not exactly shaking in my boots here."

Quincy feigned a wounded expression. "Ouch. So, we’re not intimidating enough for you?"

"Not in the slightest," Natasha quipped, her smirk widening.

Brandon chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, fair enough. Guess we’ll stick to arm-wrestling each other and leave the assassin stuff to the pros."

Tori gave Brandon a side-eye but couldn’t help smiling. "Maybe you should worry about behaving before trying to impress Natasha."

You shook your head, unable to keep from laughing. "See? Even Tori knows you two would be hopeless."

Natasha reassured your thigh under the table, leaning in close enough that only you could hear. "I like your family," she murmured softly and sincerely.

You smiled at her, warmth blooming in your chest.

"We like you too," Vivian nodded. “It may be time for these boys to get put in their place.”

"I would like to see it," Peyton muttered.

"After dinner, then," Natasha smiled. "I have one condition if I win."

"What's that?" Quincy asked.

"You guys teach me how to play spades," Natasha suggested.

"Deal," Quincy nodded.

"And if you win, we can take some photos together," Brandon said.

"Fair enough," Natasha said.

"This will be interesting," Vivian commented.

"I know, right," Tori chuckled.

It was settled. Natasha would be challenging your brothers to a push-up contest. She was used to men challenging her to do things. It was in their nature almost.

After the meal, you helped clean up while your siblings gathered in the living room. They were ready for Natasha to kick their asses, and you could barely contain your excitement.

"Willow, you're about to watch your Daddy get beat," You whispered to the toddler.

"Don't count on it," Brandon said. "She won't be so confident when we're finished."

"We'll see," You said, setting the child on the couch.

Ross volunteered to be the referee, clearly enjoying the chaos. "Alright, everyone ready?" he asked, standing over the contestants with exaggerated authority.

Brandon and Quincy dropped to the floor with exaggerated confidence, flexing their arms dramatically to show off. Natasha joined them, calm and focused, her form perfect even before they started.

"Okay," Ross said, his voice booming for no reason. "On my count—one, two, three, go!"

The room filled with exaggerated grunts as your brothers enthusiastically attacked their push-ups, counting out each one loudly. "One, two, three—"

Natasha, meanwhile, moved effortlessly, her breathing even and controlled. You noticed she wasn’t counting out loud, focusing entirely on her form. By the fifteenth push-up, Brandon’s face turned red, and Quincy was already starting to slow down.

“That’s it?” Natasha teased, casually switching to one-handed push-ups without missing a beat.

The room erupted into gasps and laughter. Ross's jaw dropped. "Wait, wait, what?!"

"One hand?" Quincy groaned, struggling to keep his pace. "She’s showing off now."

"Is she even human?" Brandon muttered between labored breaths.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning against the back of the couch. “Don’t worry, Willow,” you told the toddler watching from her perch. “Your daddy’s about to learn a hard lesson.”

Despite their efforts, Natasha’s movements remained smooth and effortless. Not once did her arms so much as tremble. When Brandon and Quincy finally collapsed in a heap, Natasha was still going strong, with a slight smirk as she pushed through another set.

“Thirty-five… thirty-six…” Ross counted, shaking his head in disbelief.

When she finally stopped, Natasha rose gracefully and brushed herself off as if the entire thing had been a warm-up. "Good effort, boys," she said with a smirk, extending her hand to help Brandon.

"You didn’t even break a sweat!" Quincy protested, sprawled on the floor.

"Maybe next time," Natasha quipped, her tone light but undeniably victorious.

Brandon groaned dramatically, glancing at Willow, who was giggling. "Willow, Daddy did his best," he muttered, defeated.

“She’s my new favorite,” Ross declared, earning laughter from everyone in the room.

You walked over to Natasha, shaking your head with an affectionate smile. “Show-off,” you teased.

She leaned in close enough that only you could hear. “You love it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

**********

Later that night, everyone is tucked into their rooms as you help your mom with the dishes. Natasha had taken an early shower to decompress from such a busy day. She wasn't used to big family affairs like this and needed a moment alone. This gave you time to talk with your mom.

As she washed the dishes, you dried them.

"So, what do you think?" You asked as you placed another place in the cabinet. "Do you like her?"

"She's lovely," Vivian nodded. "You seem happy."

"I am," You confirmed.

"Good," Vivian continued washing the dishes.

"She seems to be fitting in well," You said.

"She is," Vivian said. "She's a sweet girl."

"She is," You agreed.

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"Whoa, Mom," You sputtered. She gave you a knowing look, and you sighed. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm your mother," Vivian said. "It's a valid question. Is she a good partner?"

"Yes, she is," You said.

"She doesn't treat you right; I will come and cut her," Vivian threatened.

"She does treat me right," You insisted.

"Then there shouldn't be a problem with my question," Vivian said.

"She does," You repeated.

"Well, I'm glad," Vivian said.

You nodded, continuing the routine of putting the dishes away.

"So, what's next for you two?"

"Next?" You asked, unsure of what she meant.

"Where do you see the relationship going?" Vivian asked.

"Um," You hadn't thought about it much. "I don't know. We're taking it slow. Just enjoying each other's company."

"But do you think it will be a long-term relationship?" Vivian asked.

"I hope so," You said. "I like her and hope the feeling is mutual."

"Well, if you like her and she likes you, I'm sure it will work out," Vivian said. There was a moment of silence. "I see the way she looks at you. The same way your daddy looked at me."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Vivian smiled. "He always had that twinkle in his eye when he talked about me."

You smiled, finishing the last of the dishes.

"I'm happy for you, baby," Vivian said. "You deserve someone who makes you feel special. Someone who puts a smile on your face."

"I'm glad you approve," You nodded. "She's a good person. I know people have their reservations about her past and..."

"People have their reasons for being judgmental," Vivian said. "You know as well as I do that a lot of the time, people are just scared and misguided."

"Yeah," You nodded.

"Besides, your daddy taught me something important."

"What's that?"

"It doesn't matter where a person came from, just who they are," Vivian answered.

"He taught me the same," You replied.

"I know," Vivian kissed your forehead.

You hugged her, feeling a wave of emotions wash over you.

"Mom," You began.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I miss him," You said.

"So do I," Vivian pulled away. "But, we have to carry on without him."

"You know, Peyton told me how things are going at the laundromat," You began. "If my tuition is too much."

"Baby, you're not giving up school because of me," Vivian said. "The laundromat is fine. We just had a bad few months, is all."

"I'm sure we can figure out a way to increase revenue," You suggested.

"Maybe, but not now," Vivian said. "It'll work itself out. I have a little savings if it comes down to it."

"Well, maybe I can talk to the admissions office," You said. "See about a payment plan or loans."

"We'll figure it out," Vivian reassured. "Don't you worry about it?"

"I'm not worried," You insisted.

"You're a horrible liar," Vivian chuckled. "Now, go check on your girlfriend. It's getting late."

You smiled. "Thanks, mom."

"Anytime," Vivian winked.

******

When you returned to your room, Natasha was out of the shower and curled under the covers. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was deep and even, suggesting she was already asleep.

You smiled, careful not to wake her, as you changed into a pair of pajamas and brushed your teeth. As you crawled into bed beside her, she stirred slightly, cracking one eye open.

"Sorry," you whispered, draping an arm across her waist. "Go back to sleep."

"Everything okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," you reassured, resting your head on her shoulder.

"Okay," She closed her eyes.

You pressed a kiss to her jaw, snuggling closer. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," She replied. "Thanks for bringing me here."

"Of course," You whispered.

You lay in the darkness for a while, listening to her breathing and enjoying the warmth of her body. Gradually, your eyelids grew heavy, and you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of her arms.

[cosmerelists]

Ranking Various Cosmere Fantasy Swears

If there's one thing Brandon Sanderson likes, it's avoiding any real swear words in favor of Fantasy Swears. I am genuinely a huge fan of this technique. So here how I'd rank some of the ones I can remember! (And thanks to 17th Shard [here and here] and to Reddit for compiling some lists!).

#14: Colors (Warbreaker)

This one feels a little bit...lazy, I guess? Like yes, Warbreaker's magic is color-dependent, so colors are a big part of the world-building, so I guess it makes sense that people use it as a swear. But it feels like if, in fantasy USA, people swore by "eagles" all the time: "Eagles! I dropped my hamburger!"

#13: Moons (Tress of the Emerald Sea)

I mean same problem as with "colors"! Yes, the moons are a big aspect of the worldbuilding, but it just feels like a semi-boring swear. Although maybe that's just the swear that Tress tends to use.

#12: Shadows/Shades (Shadows for Silence/Sunlit Man)

Okay, maybe this one is a bit boring, but anything Threndy-related gets extra credit from me. So therefore I think this is one of the least boring of the "basically boring descriptors of world building elements" swears.

#11: By the Lord Ruler (Mistborn)

I mean...eh. This one is world specific, but it's basically like swearing by god only in this case the god is the Lord Ruler, right? It makes sense 'n' all but isn't as interesting as some of the later ones.

#10: By the Survivor's Scars (Mistborn)

This one is better because it's more specific--Kelsier's scars are rich with meaning, and swearing by them does feel like it carries cultural weight.

#9: By Harmony's Armbands (Mistborn)

Putting them all in a line like this...I just like how they get ever more specific. Now we're swearing by Harmony's feruchemical armlets? Okay!

#8: God Beyond (Shadows for Silence)

I mean, Threnody is, like, haunted by a god's corpse, so I think any of their god-related swears are more interesting as a result.

#7: Nights / Nights afire (Emperor's Soul)

I like this one because I just don't know what it refers to and it seems kinda creepy. What are nights on fire for??

#6: Rust and Ruin (Mistborn)

Frankly, the alliteration gets this one extra points. And "Rust and Ruin!" just feels like a good thing to shout when you've stubbed your toe.

#5: Storms/storming/Stormfather (Stormlight Archive)

I know this one SHOULD lose points for being exactly the sort of boring descriptive swear I maligned above...but I enjoy this one simply because it's such a clear linguistic stand-in for "fuck" and that leads to such amusing translations as "Kaladin Fuckblessed" or the "Fuckfather" and that just never stops being funny to me.

#4: Herald body parts (Stormlight Archive)

I didn't notice until looking at various compiled lists of Cosmere Fantasy Swears, but Rosharans really like to swear by specific Herald body parts, huh? From here: Kelek's breadth, Kelek's tongue, Ash's eyes, Ishar's soul, Nalan's hand, Pali's mind, Talat's hand...I'm a fan of this. It's interesting and feels culturally relevant.

#3: Glories Within (Stormlight Archive)

This one is just Szeth so far, but people speculate it's probably a Shin curse. That makes it interesting to me since we don't know a whole lot about the Shin. What inner glory are they using to swear?

#2: Starving (Stormlight Archive)

This one is pretty similar to "Storming," I suppose, in being a pretty clear linguistic stand-in for "fucking." But I just like that the food-obsessed Lift has her own personal swear relating to starvation.

#1: Lowly/Highly (Yumi and the Nightmare Painter)

I'm a big fan of the lowly/highly thing from Yumi & the Nightmare Painter, where words can be linguistically marked as meant in either a high way (complimentary) or a low way (insultingly). It's fun worldbuilding and leads to some comic beats in the novel. Plus, this post tickled me greatly: https://www.tumblr.com/cabinetcreature/722030379790401536?source=share. It's so true!

[yannasuniverse]

I got you forever

Paring: KK Arnold x mom!reader

Summary: Your mom had died due to bad heart problems and your father was never in the picture so you had to step up to take care of your younger brother how was a freshman in high school while your a freshman in college soon you started dating kk but haven’t told her about your brother scared that she will leave you, kk starts to get suspicious why you been sneaking around her so she decides to confront you

Warnings: a little Arguing. my bad spelling

From yanna: I didn’t mean to make this so long😭 I hope y’all like it but am back to writing finally😌

“Brandon hurry up before you be late!” you yelled from the kitchen. it was your brother first day of high school you wanted it to be perfect.

“I’m ready, can you with my hair?” putting your keys in your pocket as you nod your head pushing him to the bathroom “get the gel and brush out, I be there in a minute”.

Walking to your room grabbing the box on your dresser. walking into the bathroom to see Brandon on his phone “Here you can open it now or later” handing him the box as you took his hair out of his ponytail.

he opened the box to see a necklace with a picture with you and him, he started at it for a sec you looked at him nervous “do you like it?” he nodded his head a smile coming on his face “yeah I like it thank you but you didn’t have to get me this” shrugging your shoulders slightly “I know but I wanted to”

A hour Later!

Walking up to kk dorm, you had drop off Brandon at school happy knowing he was going to enjoy high school.

The door open to a angry kk, walking in with confused look on your face “kk what wrong?” you ask only to be ignored calling out her name a couple of times. getting frustrated as she sat on the couch on her phone “kk answer me and stop being petty”.

kk turned her head towards you with no emotion on her face “Where were you?, you was supposed to pick me up so when can go on our date” her tone was demanded making you nervous.

“I over slept am sorry, I been stress over school you know that” you said half the of the truth, kk rolled her eyes not blelive any of it “Yeah yeah sure”.

“What that supposed to mean?” crossing your arms as you look at kk disbelief on your face “nothing i believe you” “you know I don’t care be mad all you want am leaving” kk looks at you not saying anything once again “Fine act like that then” you say walking out the door slamming the door as your did.

1 Week Later!

It’s been a week since you talk to kk you could admit it. It was petty but you couldn’t tell her about Brandon not yet at least or maybe never, you been down all week but trying to hide it from Brandon but knowing you can’t.

“Sis what’s wrong you been sad all week don’t think I didn’t notice” turning your head to look at your brother knowing you can’t hide anything from him “Me and kk got into fight” he sits next you putting his arms around you “What was it about?”.

laughing a bit about how stupid it is “Um just me not making enough time for her” “is it because of me?” Quickly shaking your head at his question looking down at your lap “No never it’s just that I haven’t told her about you” you say quietly “What?, you said you tell her” letting out a huff “I know but am Scared she leave me” Brandon moves his arm from around you making you face him all the way “Look if she loves you she wouldn’t mind if you have a kid”.

Laughing at his seriousness but nodding your head “Your right, do you want to meet her tomorrow?” “Mhm I guess but if I don’t like her she gotta go” he joked but half serious “Ok ok little boy, now let’s go make dinner” getting up wrapping your arm around your brother shoulder walking to the kitchen.

The Next Day!

You and Brandon waited at kk dorm door nervous sat in your body waiting for someone to open the door.

The door was open by Paige who stared at you then Brandon she point at Him then putting two together you open your mouth to say something before you hear kk shout “Paige who’s at the door?!” Feeling nervous as Paige let’s y’all in, you see kk on the couch watching a game one of her favorite shows “Paige omg who’s at the door!” kk yelled once again going silent once she saw you her face scrunching up in confusion.

“who’s this” she ask looking at your brother who was staring right back at her, you stood there for a bit trying to find the words, feeling a nudge from your brother “come on tell her”.

“Um can we speak just me and you?” you ask not wanting to do this in front of her roommates who were all in the living room.

She gets open from the couch grabbing your hand leading you to her bedroom closing the door behind her, nothing was said for a bit as y’all look at each other “um so that my brother look am sorry fo-” before you could finish kk engulfed you in a hug “it’s ok I understand why” the tears started to fall from your eyes hiding your face in her shoulder as you began to sob as you tried to form words out but nothing came out.

All the worry and nervousness you felt went away as you cried in your girlfriends arms. you soon fell asleep in kk arms, she moved you into a comfortable position walking to her closet grabbing a blanket covering you with it place a soft kiss on your cheek walking out the room closing door quietly behind her.

Walking into the living room seeing Brandon talking to Paige at the table.

Brandon turned his head to looking at kk confused to see her by herself “Where my sister at?” he says in a rude tone.

kk was a little shock at his rudeness but realizing he was just concerned for his sister “She fine. she fell asleep” she says sitting down at the table next to him only to receive a dirty look for him.

“Um so like how old are you??” kk ask not sure what to say “14 I turn 15 in next month” the air awkward as he answered, kk look at Paige for help not knowing what to say.

Paige only shock her head not knowing either,they say in more silence as kk said the first question that came to mind “so do you do any sport?” she watch Brandon face light up at the question as he shook head “Yeah i do track basketball and football I just got into volleyball too” he said he couldn’t hold back his excitement as he continued to talk more about his hobbies. Kk began to feel a smile come on to her face as the watch Brandon talk she could get use to this.

Couple Hours Later!

Opening your eyes looking around the room not seeing kk with you. Getting up walking over to kk closet grabbing a shirt and shorts changing into them.

Walking out the room being meet with kk and Brandon doing just dance as kk roommates recording kk as she lost to Brandon for the 3rd time.

“Bro i hate this game!” kk yelled as your brother laugh at the angry girl, finally turning there head’s hearing you clear your throat. “Hi baby!, how did you sleep?” Kk says walking over to you engulfing you into a hug place kiss all over your face.

“I slept fine kk” wrapping your arms around her, waving at Brandon who give y’all a disgusting look “Can y’all not do this in front of my please” letting out a laugh as moved away from kk walking over to your brother “you be fine now shut up so I can beat you in just dance” you shove him lightly as you start the game.

Kk watch you have fun with your brother, you look so happy even if she didn’t have this in mind for her College experience she just happy to see you happy.

[romance-sick]

I’m honestly still trying to process it, guys, but I just have to say…

I LOVED IT.

Oh, my god.

It’s honestly disgusting, all of the hate that this movie is getting; it’s so undeserving of it.

THIS👏🏻 CROW👏🏻 IS NOT👏🏻THE 1994 CROW👏🏻.

It was never meant to be… Idk why that is so monumentally hard for people to comprehend.

Anyway.

Emotionally, I’m kind of devastated right now. Bill was brilliant, Twigs was beautiful; the GORE was fucking magnificent. God… I might have to go see it again tomorrow, for real. I can’t stop thinking about it.

I didn’t cry, but there were a couple of times where I was close, this makeup scene being one of them.

Having Enya’s “Boadecia”paired with it? Gorgeous. Heartbreaking. I got legitimate chills.

I don’t know what else to say, I’m still just…wow.

Is it some Oscar worthy contender that should do a clean sweep this award season? No. But it’s not meant to be, either.

It has great cinematography, was well-acted with a good story, it was brutal and intense, but also a lot of fun to watch.

Just because this film is not a carbon copy of 1994 (which it shouldn’t be, anyway, and if it was, they’d bitch about that, too) doesn’t mean it nor Bill or Twigs or anyone else should be getting shit all over the way that they are.

(Besides, how many Crow sequels were made after Brandon Lee’s death? I mean, what’s the fucking difference?)

-jumps off of soapbox-

Thank you for listening.

[write-tama]

"a long day at work." (MCD Scenarios)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ( MCD!characters) x (guard!reader)

sypnosis ; security has been intensified due to neighboring villages are in fear due the threat of O’Khasis, meaning that you haven’t been able to spend some alone time with your partner. But finally, you’ve been let out of work early, which means you have a night to your lover!

containing ; Laurence Zvhal, Garroth Ro’meave, Dante (for some reason I can't find his last name?!). Established relationship, immense fluff! Reader is referred as you/yours.

author’s note ; hello MCD side of tumblr! i decided to post this just as for fun and to let out my little obsession on MCD lately. Pardon me if some things sound out of character I haven’t watched the series since I was like.. Ten maybe?! and I’m currently rewatching s1. But anyway, hope you enjoy!

9.26.24 | 2.7k words

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LAURENCE

Despite you two being guards, you’ve been stationed on the other side of Phoenix Drop since he is one of the head guards that stands alongside Lord Aphmau. But finally, after what felt like so long, the two of you finally were able to see each other tonight. Laurence was home before you. Being such the romantic he is, he had dimly lit candles scattered along the house and a bouquet of your favorite flowers sitting on the table, waiting for your arrival. He even stopped by Emmalyn’s library to pick out the new set of books she had purchased recently.

He was patiently sitting on the couch, undressed to a white long-sleeve cotton shirt and baggy pants. You came through the door, completely exhausted with your weapon slung over your shoulder. The sound of the door creaking was enough to make Laurence stand up immediately before grabbing the flowers from the table.

“There you are, my love..” He purred. The feeling of his arms wrapping around your body was enough for you to drop your weapon and to bury your face into his addicting scent. He pushed the door closed behind you before reluctantly pulling away to present you with his gift you didn’t even notice at first.

You couldn’t help the giant grin forming on your face as your hand rested upon his cheek. “I missed you too, sweetheart.” you smiled. You took ahold of the bouquet, admiring the selection. “I can see Cadenza helped you out tonight.” You chuckled, feeling the silk ribbon that tied the flowers’ stems together. A content huff blew through his nostrils as he buried himself into your palm.

“Hey.. Can a man not do his best for his loveliest?” He said, playfully rolling his eyes. He turned his face around to kiss the inner part of your palm. “I would’ve done more for you, you know that, but I figured that we should just have a night in bed together. Just you and me.” A comment like that was enough to send a flutter through your chest.

After a standstill of silent kisses and snuggles, the two of you finally headed upstairs to the bedroom to unwind for a night of comfort. You hung all your armor next to Laurence’s armor stand before joining him in bed. On your nightstand was a new collection of different novels from neighboring villages.

“I remember the last time we spoke, you said that you practically read every book from the library, but this morning I helped Brandon unload a crate of books Emmalyn had ordered, so I figured I’d pick some out for you.” Laurence smiled, his voice a bit lower now as he was relaxing into bed. You joined him on your side of the bed, letting the warm covers wrap around your legs. As you looked through the selection of three books, a warm tint deepened your complexion.

“You shouldn’t have..” You mumbled. “Hey! Did you ask Emmalyn for permission before taking these books? One of these books are all the way from Scaleswind!”

Laurence sat up before burying his face into your side, sighing. “Yes, your majesty.” He sarcastically replied. “She figured it as a kind gesture for all of the work we’ve been doing. Now shush up and read me a bedtime story!” He playfully remarked, sounding a bit like a child. Despite his snarky little attitude (that in all honestly, made you love him even more), you decided to start on the book from Scaleswind that way you could return it earlier than anticipated. With a candle illuminating the pages, you softly read to him. He laid down beside you, a protective arm wrapped around your waist, but at the same time cuddling you. Eventually, Laurence fell silent. You had assumed he fell asleep, so you decided to place a bookmark in between the pages before blowing out the candle next to you. You properly laid down next to him, burying yourself into his chest.

As your eyes fluttered close, you heard a soft voice call out your name.

“My love?” Laurence mumbled.

“Yes, Laurence?” You quietly replied, not wanting to break out of your exhausted-state.

“I love you.. After all these years, I never thought I’d be with the person of my dreams. Sleep well, my angel..”

With that, he fell right to sleep. Your heart skipped a beat as heat rushed to your face. Gently, you scoot up and brushed a tuff of hair from his face.

“I love you too..” You spoke barely above a whisper.

Maybe it was the dark playing tricks with you, but the corners of Laurence’s lips tugged into a gentle and content smile. <3

GARROTH

The guards of Phoenix Drop work hard, but there was not a single doubt that Garroth worked ten times harder. For most nights, you were the one that arrived home first. Despite your protests against your own exhaustion, you would fall asleep before he got home. You would only feel the shift of the bed in the middle of the night to signify that he had made it home safely, but again, before you could wake up, he was right back to work.

But thank Lady Irene herself, Garroth finally had a night off. Brian had offered to take the night shift from him, seeing at how exhausted Garroth seemed lately. Along with that, Dante also seemed to notice your exhaustion which is why he offered to take up your shift as well. Whether the two conspired with one another to finally give you two a day-off was a discussion for later.

Garroth was off of work first, and it felt abnormal. The moment he placed his sword into the racks and stepped out of the guards’ station, he felt a sense of emptiness. As he trailed himself back to his house, he thought of what he could do for you once you got home. He figured maybe a homemade dinner together would suffice. Though he had to admit, it’s been quite some time since he cooked a proper meal for himself, epecially for another. He stopped by the farms and local butcher for some groceries, and then arrived at his abode.

He decided on a simple meal— a steak with a side of vegetables and mashed potatoes with a basket of freshly baked bread he picked up from Kawaii~Chan. The table had a white cloth decorating its surface with the basket in the middle, two plates on either side, and a candle to light up the scene. He was nearly finishing up frying your steak when you had walked in, your helmet by your hip.

“Garroth!” You exclaimed, a bit surprised. The excitement had woken you up from your tired state as you dropped your helmet onto the wood floor and hugged him tight.

“Good evening, my knight.” Garroth grinned eagerly, just as thrilled to see you. He ran an idle hand through your hair. “You’re just in time for dinner. Go get undressed and take a seat.” Not wanting to waste another second, you picked up your helmet and immediately placed your armor away, dressing down to some comfortable attire. By the time you headed back downstairs, Garroth had placed your steak on your plate and he had taken his seat.

“Garroth, this smells amazing.” You complimented, a bit amused. You had never seen Garroth cook a full meal before, in fact, you can’t recall ever seeing Garroth cook at all. Garroth chuckled, gesturing his hand to take a seat in front of him. You took your seat in front of him, admiring the dish before you. The steak looked juicy and cooked just the way you liked it. The vegetables were fresh and vibrant of color. Even the potatoes looked thoroughly mushed and creamy!

“Heh, yeah..” Garroth chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Back in O’Khasis, we still were taught how to cook despite having our own chefs. It was important to my father that we were skilled in even the most basic necessities. My mom just enjoyed spending time together though.” He smiled, thinking back on the fond memories.

You decided to finally dig in. One taste of that steak and it felt like the flavors were melting on your tongue. You squealed in excitement, not having something as delicious as the dish before you. “G-Garroth, this tastes amazing—! Even more than amazing, actually! I don’t even know how to describe it.” You cried. You could barely express your appreciation verbally as you savored and tasted every bite. Garroth’s face flushed in a bright red as the candle light illuminated his face.

“T-Thank you..” he stuttered. “I was nervous that maybe I had lost my skill after years, but I guess I still got it, yeah?” He joked. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his shyness. The two of you spent the rest of the night chowing down on such a gourmet dish, and telling each other the adventerous stories the two of you have been through, enjoying a perfect night together at last. <3

DANTE

Dante, being fresh out of training and this being his first real job as a guard, worked extremely hard and long hours to prove himself as a worthy knight. You fell in love with him the moment he walked into the village, but you didn’t realize how intensely he worked. Some nights after duty, he wasn’t able to say much other than to crash into bed. It’s not like you had any more energy than him. The paranoid feeling of invasion washed over you as you were constantly on guard duty, patrolling through the outskirts of Phoenix Drop.

One evening, despite Dante’s protests, Garroth had ordered Dante to take the night off. “Dante, you’re a profound knight despite your short-term experience. It’s time you take a break from all that work you’ve been doing.” The head guard assured, placing both palms on his shoulders. Dante was about to protest again, but his mind started to wander. He’s been doing all this work, and yet, he doesn’t recall having a night with you since he offered his love to you! Dante felt like a fool, and he knew that you’ve been hard at work as well. Dante sucked in air through his nostrils before sighing in defeat.

“You’re right, I.. I need to go.. Shoot, I need to go!” Without a word of explanation, he ran out of the guard tower, throwing his sword into the racks. Garroth stood, sort of frozen as he watched Dante run out the door. Laurence, who was snacking on a piece of bread, came downstairs and stood next to Garroth.

“Welp, there goes one our of guards. Might as well pull Dale out of retirement.” Laurence joked.

Dante, who was still dressed in full armor, bursted into Kawaii~Chan’s cafe, in search of desserts and treats. He practically threw diamonds at the poor girl, who, luckily, just finished prepping freshly baked goods for her shop. Dante grabbed the first basket he spotted and ran out the door, quickly shouting his gratitude.

He remained as discreet as possible, looking around the village hoping that you wouldn't see him off duty. The blue-haired knight knocked on Brandon's door, beckoning for help before running inside the two of you’s shared home. He grabbed a blanket, a lantern, and a spare bottle of wine he had bought from Logan a while ago.

The plan was to set up a date night on the beach. With Brandon's “expertise,” he was able to set up a lovely picnic by the the glistening shore. The red and white checkered blanket laid flat on the sand with the basket and wine in the middle, rose petals scattered around, and the grace of the moonlight completing the scene. After Brandon and him finished decorating, he told Brandon to tell Garroth to lay you off of tonight's duties in hopes that you would be present for tonight's surprise date. Dante sat eagerly by the shore, waiting upon your arrival.

You were running head-on to the docks in a panic with your sword handle tight in your fist. “Dante!” you cried. “I came as soon as I could! Is everything alri—?!” before you could finish, you met with his deep blue eyes and the moon’s light illuminating his figure. You paused in your tracks, both in awe and confusion. “Dante..?” you called out his name again. At this point, you weren't quite sure if you were awake.

“Hey...” He nervously chuckled. He stood up and walked towards you, leaving his footprints in the grainy sand. He offered his hand towards you, thankful he was still wearing his armor otherwise you feel his palm building up with sweat. You reluctantly took his hand before he lead you to the picnic. You gasped at the sight, not expecting such a romantic gesture on what felt like a typical night.

“Dante.. This is.. Oh my goodness..” The words couldn't muster up in your throat as you admired the scenery. The warm-colored lantern contrasted beautifully with the moon’s cool-blue light.

“I-I'm sorry if it was such short notice.. Garroth gave me the night-off and—” before Dante could continue with his anxious rambling, you shushed him with the biggest, more reassuring hug you could.

“Are you kidding me? This is amazing, Dante! Oh my Irene!” without another word, you took Dante’s hand and led him to the blanket, where the two of you sat comfortably. You two wasted no time blabbing the night away while chowing down on Kawaii~Chan’s delicious desserts.

As you rambled on about your knightly whereabouts, you noticed that Dante took a pause in eating and was staring deeply at you.

“Dante..?” you called out his name, tilting your head a little. Dante blinked before sitting up straight.

“Nothing.. I just.. You look gorgeous in the moonlight, love.” Dante softly admitted. A blush formed on your cheeks, and you couldn't help but look away.

“I-I could say the same for you..” you meekly replied. “Just— don't scare me like that again, okay!”

Dante stared back at you, a little clueless. “Scare you—?” it was as if a flick of lever, Dante realized what you were referring to. “Oh, Irene, what did Brandon do..” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Realizing that it wasn't Dante’s fault, you sighed and explained. “Well.. It wasn't just Brandon.” you admitted. “Laurence and Brandon ran up to me in a panic, exclaiming that O’Khasis had docked and I needed to be there immediately because you were hurt! I can see why I was foolish believing those two of all people.” you rolled your eyes as you trailed off.

Dante let out a deep sigh before scooting closer to you. “I'll be having a talk with them tomorrow.. For now, let's just enjoy this moment, just you and me, okay?” he gently assured, wrapping an arm around and rubbing your shoulder.

You couldn't help but agree, letting your eyes flutter close as the two of you listened to the calming waves of the sea. <3

A/N ~ thank you so much for reading! There's currently a hurricane in my area, so it was nice using this as a distraction :) I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, like, and even replies are super duper appreciated :3

[fetishfairytales2]

Besties 3.5 (Story)

This was originally written as a continuation of a story by [no longer active] called Besties.

—————

Besties 3.5: Meeting Ms. Lyndsey

I couldn't stop myself from laughing when Heather whipped out her phone and was like; “Girl, you need to see the fun I have with my sissy girl." And poor Brandon just started begging like the biggest loser ever, using this super pathetic, sissy voice to try to convince Heather. "Pleeeease, Mommy! Don't do it! Please!" Ugh, it was so pathetic; his face was just full-on tears! I had to roll my eyes and try not to laugh in his sissy face as Heather and I exchanged a look of amusement and disgust.

 "Oh, honey, Daddy definitely had a good time with Sissy Brandi, didn’t he?” Heather teased as we were dying laughing, and poor Brandi was sobbing still like a little baby. I didn’t feel bad for the little loser, though; I mean, he totally deserved it for being such a beta. "Come on, let's show Ms. Lyndsey how Daddy likes to play with his sissies! She wants to see it, Brandi! I promise she won’t laugh too much! So, stop being such a cry baby," she winked, shoving the penis pacifier back into Brandi’s mouth.

It was grainy; at first, I could only make out two dark figures on a bed. Then a light came on, and I could see Brandon all dressed up like some sort of frilly doll. He was dressed in an absolutely ridiculous pink ruffled dress with his hands cuffed together and his diaper around his ankles. Humiliating, but totally deserved for someone as pathetic as him. And then this video zooms in on his teeny-weeny little cock, all locked up in that cute pink chastity cage. I can't even. It's too good.

Connor, that stud that he is, was towering over that pathetic sissy, holding Brandon’s legs up in the air and spanking his bare ass! "I asked you a question, you little cucky bitch! Tell me who you belong to, you worthless loser!" Connor was yelling between spanks. Heather was standing behind the camera, laughing her ass off, while Connor continued to dish out the punishment. "You better answer him, Brandi,” she warned with a giggle. “Tell Daddy who owns your worthless ass."  

Brandon finally managed to whimper out the words in his pathetic baby voice. "I… I belong to Mommy and to you, Daddy Connor! Please stop spanking me, pretty please!" 

Connor laughed and swiftly undid his pants, taking the familiar pacifier pinned to Brandon's dress and jamming it between the sissy's quivering lips. "Uh-oh..." Heather laughed again, filled with bitchy amusement. "It looks like someone really managed to piss off Daddy."

Brandi squirmed, but Connor quickly flipped him onto his stomach, pulling him up to his knees by the sissy ponytail in his hair. Brandi whimpered behind his gag and tried like a helpless sissy to crawl away, but Connor just spanked his ass again. “Hold still for ‘Daddy’ Connor boomed, flipping Brandi onto his stomach. Firmly grasping the sissy's hair, Connor pulled Brandi up to his knees. “Just tease him with it, babe,” Heather laughed. “She’s so excited to be a good sissy slut for her Daddy!”

Heather kept directing; she was obviously really into this! “Really make her beg for it! That little slut LOVES being choked!" Connor grabbed ahold of Brandon's throat and commanded his hips to move back. "Look at that slut swaying her hips! Whooo!" Heather laughed at poor Brandon, whose eyes were tightly shut, tears streaming down now. “Aww, what’s wrong, sissy? You don’t like it when Daddy works those sissy hips? Twerk for Daddy Brandi! Be a good girl,” Heather encouraged.

Heather entered the camera frame as she ran over to the simpering, suffering Brandi. She never stopped filming as she started to spank Brandon. "Come on, Brandi," she ordered, her camera zooming in on Brandon's face, "beg him. Beg him for it like a good girl." The sight of Brandon was absolutely ridiculous, with his smeared lipstick and raccoon eyes from the running mascara. His blubbering made him look like the pathetic little baby he was dressed as. 

Heather was sounding totally wicked, and I couldn't get enough of it. I loved this new, bitchy side of her. She lectured her trapped boyfriend like a disappointed mother. "Stop being such a squirmy sissy," she scolded. "Daddy loves Mommy very much, and he'll do anything I ask." She was stroking Brandon’s cheeks like she was trying to soothe him! "I think it's important for you to understand why I chose a real man like Connor instead of a pathetic sissy like you. I really think Daddy Connor is doing both of us a favor." I couldn't believe what I was hearing as I looked up at Heather. "There's no way he's going to..." She just laughed. “I’m telling you, girl, I fucking own Brandi now! Watch, this is the good part!”

I watched as Heather very enthusiastically began stroking Connor’s cock, getting him ready. “Ask Daddy very politely to fuck your bum bum,” she leaned in, talking almost directly in Brandon’s ear; “and thank him afterward, of course!” 

"P...p...p..." *sob*... "Oh my God, Connor, I'm so sorry, man, please..." Brandon broke down in another temper tantrum as he struggled to get the pacifier out of his mouth. But before he could say another word, Heather intervened and took control, slapping Brandon across the face and grabbing his chin. "YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO DADDY LIKE THAT!" She hit him again, this time with even more force. “NOW ASK HIM TO FUCK YOU and do it into the camera in your sweetest fucking sissy voice!” Heather composed herself and zoomed in, perfectly framing Brandon's face. “P…p…pwease Daddy, pwease fuck me so good!!” Brandon begged, as convincingly as possible, through tears.

Connor flashed a cocky grin and thrust into the sissy with a smug look of satisfaction. He started with just the tip of his cock, teasing Brandon before gradually inching it deeper and deeper. “Shhh,” Heather winked before shoving the pacifier gag back into Brandon's mouth roughly and securing it with a strap around his head. “Mmmmph…mppph!” Poor Brandi begged.

"Well, well, it looks like someone's a tight little slut.” Heather laughed before standing up and making a show of letting some spit drip down Brandon's ass. "Since you’re such a naughty little girl, that’s all the lube you get!” She playfully turned to Connor, giving him a sly wink. "Oh, honey, don't go easy on her just because it's her first time. Trust me, she's going to beg for more eventually.”

Just as Brandon was forced into an uncomfortable rhythm, Connor pulled and slapped him hard on the ass. “Faster bitch!” Brandon squealed as Connor pulled out and thrust deeper into him. Heather was loving every minute of it. “That’s it, baby! Make sure our lucky girl feels every inch!” I was almost jealous of Heather; Connor really looked like he knew what he was doing! Poor Brandon, though, wasn't quite prepared for what Connor could do! The smaller sissy was completely at the mercy of such an alpha, and Connor was definitely taking advantage of that. He was practically lifting Brandon up by the hips, slamming the powerless sissy back down. "Wow, he’s fucking him like a porn star!” I giggled as I watched.

I watched Heather take her seat on the bed, looking like a total boss bitch. She grabbed her sissy’s chin, her nails digging into his skin, and made him look at her. "Fuck, this is hot.” With a smug smirk, she cheered Connor on over Brandon’s pleas for mercy: "Treat her like a dirty slut baby! Look! Our sissy girl is loving feeling her Daddy fucking her!” She squeezed Brandon’s tear-stained face into a fake smile around the paci.  “Show Sissy Brandi what a real man can do, make sure that pathetic loser knows why I chose a strong alpha like you." 

Connor must have been into the dirty talk. "Fuck, I'm close," he moaned. Heather faked a gasp and grabbed a hold of Brandi’s ponytail. "Oooh, did you hear that, Sissy? I think Daddy needs a little more to work with, don't you?" I laughed out loud watching Heather start tickling Brandon! He was laughing so hard that he choked on his cock paci and she was tickling him so much that poor sissy's hips started to slam onto Connor’s cock! 

"Good girl!" Heather cooed and giggled. "You don't want to be a dead fish, do you?" Connor grunted as he pushed Brandon further and further into the bed with each thrust. "Fuck…fuck, oh shit," Connor moaned. "Uh-oh, Daddy likes it when you move like that, huh?" Heather teased, sticking her tongue out at Brandon and digging her nails deeper into his sides and armpits. Connor was grunting louder and louder while Sissy Brandi struggled to remain silent as more tears streamed down his face.

"Aww, sissy!” Heather squealed. "You're just drooling at the thought of making Daddy Connor cum, aren't ya, sweetie? I know you just love taking all that real man jizz like the good little slut that you are, don’tcha?" Heather cooed. I was blown away as I watched Connor pull out of Brandon, leaving the poor sissy to collapse on the bed, looking like he had just run a marathon. The video paused. “That’s what 9 inches looks like girl,” Heather whispered with a laugh as she saw my shocked face expression. “He’s so good, I fucking love it! Watch though; it’s almost over.

I couldn't look away from the screen as Heather grabbed Brandon's hair, pulling him towards the edge of the bed. "Come on, Sissy, it's not over yet!" she purred while pulling Brandi down beside her to kneel in front of Connor. She eagerly tugged on Conner‘s cock; she was bringing him closer and closer to the edge. “Almost there, baby,” Connor grunted. With a smile, Heather stepped back and gestured for Brandon to take over. "Make Daddy cum like the good little submissive slut you are," she laughed, removing the sissy’s pacifier gag. 

“Show him how you enjoyed him popping your sissy cherry! Sissy Brandi’s hand moved mechanically; he was exhausted and broken. Heather slapped him across the back of the head. "Do it with feeling, slut! Like those gross porn stars you used to watch until I locked your cock up! Give it a little sissy kiss too.”

Brandon hesitated as he lowered his head towards Connor's groin; he was totally grossed out by the thought of tasting his own ass. But before he could back out, Heather shoved his head all the way down to Connor's balls. “No, no, no sissy cum breath,” she chided him with a laugh. “Get down there!” Poor Brandon was drooling and gagging like a champ!

“Get a move on, Brandi!" Heather barked, yanking him by the hair and guiding him forcefully. "Work that shaft up and down; we ain't got all day, princess!" She let go of his hair, but not before giving him a slap on the back of the head. "Now, be a good little Daddy's girl and finish the job!"

I loved watching Brandon be so thoroughly humiliated, but I think Heather was living for it. I watched as she gripped the back of Brandon's neck and forced him to stay in place, his face just inches away from Connor's massive cock. "Don't just stand there, sissy," Heather sneered. "Beg for it, beg for Daddy’s cum on your face!

“P…please cum on my face…d…daddy…” Brandon pathetically begged, giving up his dignity. And with a triumphant sigh, Connor granted his wish, dumping his load on Brandon's face. “Good sissy slut,” Connor laughed, pushing Brandon over. “We do own you now.”

Heather couldn't help but smirk with satisfaction as she put her phone aside. “Nothing but a little sissy bitch now, huh?” She turned with a smile. "Well, I think it's safe to say that Brandon is no longer the biggest bully in town." I laughed, shaking my head in amusement. "He’s definitely been brought down a peg or two.”

[shawnxstyles]

the list

DATE: JUNE 15, 2023

summary: tom offers for you and your writing partner to work at the empty frat house when you have no other options. even though you hate tom with a burning passion, you can’t fail this class. when all is going fine, your partner has to leave abruptly for an emergency, leaving you with no way home (wink). thinking you’re all alone, you decide to snoop through tom’s belongings to try to find his rumored list.

request: yessss

song: Hot in Herre- nelly

words: 9.2k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [oral, fingering, cock-thumping, nipple play, choking, deepthroating], m- receiving [blowjob], [small] daddy kink, degrading kink, rough/protected sex [not clearly consensual, but implied], mention of reader going under/slight subspace), pet names (princess), a lot of language, and a lot of dialogue.

note: I’M BACK and i’m with this big baby right here. i hope you guys enjoy this because it took me a few days to write. i’m glad to finally have some time to write again!

frat!tom x college!reader

–

“I’m really glad we got to be partners on this,” You smile as you hug your textbook and notebook to your chest.

“Yeah, me too. I think we’ll do great,” Brandon replies, and then the conversation basically stops there. It was dry and kind of awkward, but he was pretty nice, so it’s alright with you.

Your Creative Writing class was assigned a project that consisted of writing a short story with another person. Your teacher picked the partners and you got Brandon, which you were thankful for because he is original and creative, also known as not being a plagiarizer. But you weren’t sure how well your guys’ genres mixed.

You wrote a lot of old realistic romance stories, whether it was for free-writing in class or on your own time. Brandon apparently wrote a lot of futuristic science fiction and read a lot of comic books. You weren’t against the idea that he was a nerd or a geek, but you just hoped it didn’t overwhelm your writing process. But again, he was nice, which you didn’t get from most guys.

The campus is bussing like usual. All different kinds of people roam the concrete ground waiting for their classes to start or trying to leave without dropping all their things or wandering because they don’t know what else to do. It’s a balance that you’ve been accustomed to for the past year. Yeah, you took a gap year at 18 and are now a 20 year-old sophomore in college, but that doesn’t mean you have your shit figured out. No one does, and that kind of comforts you.

With these random thoughts, you and Brandon walk through the crowded campus until you reach the library.

“What the hell,” You squint your eyes at the paper sign that is taped to the glass door. You suggested the library as your work spot because Starbucks may be a little loud and you needed a lot of silence while writing. You’re also very picky with your own stories, so you can’t even imagine how it’s going to be when you combine ideas. Maybe you should just be less conceited…

As you read the surprisingly fine print, you find out that the room is having an inspection check.

“The librarian told people not to eat in there,” Brandon shakes his head in disappointment and you sigh in subtle annoyance.

“Well what are–”

“Oh, shit, it’s closed?” A voice appears from behind you and you nearly turn around and swing at the body. Only because you know whose body it belongs to.

A body with perfect fucking arms and a stupidly good-looking face–

Stop it.

“No, it’s just locked and has a sign that says it’s closed,” You roll your eyes as you spin around, facing Tom in all his stupid glory. A slight smirk creeps up his face as his eyes look down at you. You watch as he chews his gum, and you hate that it’s kind of hot.

Stop. It.

“What’s with the attitude? I just asked a question–”

“Well, it was a stupid question,” You snarl, biting on your lip in irritation. Even looking at him gets you all riled up because you know how he is.

You’re not sure exactly when you started hating Tom, but you know exactly why. Hate might be a strong word, but it goes well with the feeling you experience every time his name is mentioned or you see his smug face. You hate the way he talks about girls. You hate the way he treats girls, like they’re on some type of list and he’s just checking them off. Every time he even looks at a woman he finds mildly attractive, she’s instantly on said-list. He probably has a handwritten copy somewhere. You wouldn’t be surprised because you’ve heard that rumor before.

You heard a lot about him before you actually knew him. You heard through the grapevine that he lost his virginity to a girl in college when he was only 15, and now he’s a senior in college. And that he fucked three different girls in the same day during his senior year of high school. And a new one that you’ve heard is that he has sex every single day with a new person because he can’t live without it. You’re not sure if all of these are true or correct, but after you got to know him just a little, you know that it can’t be too far from the truth.

Tom was in your Film Analysis class last year. You purposely sat next to him because you thought he was cute, and you weren’t wrong, but you paid for it at the end of the year. He would constantly peek at your papers, and at first, you thought it was a sign of flirting. But he was just too involved with his phone during the films that he never knew what was going on once the assignments came. Your professor didn’t let you guys change seats because it was easier to take attendance with a seating chart, and he had “hundreds of students every day” blah blah blah. Why did your teacher have to be so old he was on the brink of death?

Throughout the entire year, you would overhear Tom talk about girls and what he was doing with them. It disgusted you that someone could be so objective and still get the girl (or girls), but you tried not to get involved with it. Then one day, like a random switch, Tom tried to hit on you. He tries to deny it, saying “Why would I do that?” and “You’re not my type” and shit like that, but Tom is only in it for the sex. He doesn’t care too much about appearances, so that’s how you know he was full of shit.

To this day, you swear you’re still on his list, whether it’s a physical or mental one. Tom flirts with you like he can, and yeah, sometimes that fucks with your head, but you remain composure. Because of your curiosity, you want to find out, one, if he actually has a list and two, if you’re on it. But your hate for him overpowers your curious wonders. If you did find this “list,” you wouldn’t stop making fun of him for it. And, he wouldn’t be able to survive if you were actually on it.

“Can we work at your place, Y/N?” Brandon asks, completely ignoring Tom.

“Can’t,” You reply, “my roommate asked for the evening, so she can…have her boyfriend over.”

“Oh,” he stares at the ground awkwardly and scratches his neck.

“Oh, you mean have sex?” Tom inserts himself into the conversation. You glare at him with searing lasers in your eyes. “What? You can’t say the word sex? Does it turn you on too much or something?”

“Tom!” You whack him in the arm with your heavy textbook and he simply laughs. It was whole and deep, and it made you feel all warm, but so did your hatred for him, so what’s the difference? “What is wrong with you? Do you have any filter?”

“I’m going to say…no,” he winks and crosses his arms like he is the coolest person to walk this earth. His smugness makes your fists clench and your blood overheat with fiery.

“Okay, before this gets into an argument, where are we going to work?” Brandon chips in with his hand on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, trying to think rationally.

“You can work at my place,” Tom licks his pink lips and infamously smirks again. Your body is so hot that it melted your brain into a mush of incomprehension, so you can’t even respond to his idiocracy before Brandon very unsurely says why not.

Fuck.

–

“Welcome to The House,” Tom introduces dramatically while flinging the door open for you both. You swear that was the most gentleman-like thing he’s ever done.

“At least come up with an original name,” You roll your eyes again like your body has been programmed to every time Tom opens his mouth.

“So much attitude for such a tiny person,” he taunts, shutting the door behind him. Brandon walks quickly into the dining room with his backpack, leaving himself out of the very heart-felt conversation between you and Tom. Your jaw ticks a tad at his words. “I love when you roll your eyes.”

Your face scrunches in disgust, but can’t help it when your curiosity slips from your mouth, “Why?”

“Because then I know I’ve done my job,” A hint of a smirk rises on his lips while your eye twitches at his arrogance.

“And what is your job? To annoy the shit out of me? ‘Cause if it is, congratulations! You get promoted every time you talk to me,” No matter how badly you want to, you resist the urge to roll your eyes just because you know how much it would please him. Even with your irate words, that all-too familiar smirk lingers like he’s proud.

He likes when you fight back because no one ever does. It’s easy for him. Too easy sometimes. Yeah, he likes when he can sleep with a girl without having to try too hard, but once he met you, he realized he liked a bit of a fight. Tom craved the passion and bubbling tension that strangled the air between you both. It was thrilling and enthralling, and he knew with enough poking and prodding, you would snap. That was his job; to make you snap.

“Close, but no cigar.”

“What are you, like, a hundred?”

“I’m surprised you’re still talking to me, princess.” There’s that name. That stupid fucking name. You know that he throws that title around like candy to women. You know that the sweet undertone of the tag is what it does for them and what gets them in his bed at the end of the night. It angered you that he thought you were so easy, so gullible. But no, you weren’t going to let him smooth-talk you all the way to his bedroom. Even if it was just upstairs…

“Actually, I’m not anymore,” You finished the conversation and walked away. After you stopped facing him, your eyes immediately went to the back of your head in a dramatic roll. As you enter the dining room, you are suddenly aware of the heat radiating off your skin. You lift a hand up to your beaming cheeks, which turn out to be flaming with the fury bubbling in your blood.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Brandon asks, being the nice guy he is. You swallowed and inhaled.

“Yeah. Let’s get started.”

–

Not even ten minutes later, Tom comes bustling into the room. He says he was just checking up on you guys, but he was just trying to annoy you. After half an hour, he comes back again, saying something about the last football game and if you two have watched it. You inhale a few times, squeezing your pencil in your hand. He walks into the kitchen ajar and grabs something from the fridge.

“Tom, can you leave us alone? We have to get this done by Friday.”

“But it’s my house. I should be able to go wherever I want in my own house.”

“You literally invited us here, so we could work in peace!” You didn’t mean to shout, but Tom brought out the worst in you.

“I never said anything about peace–”

“Look, Tom, just please leave us alone, yeah?” You lowered your voice a bit, hoping maybe he would hear you. To your surprise, he licks his lips and re-enters the dining room, standing near your chair at the end of the table.

“All you had to do was say please, princess,” he winks and struts away, and somewhere inside of you is annoyed that he got the last word. But a big part of you was…affected. Badly. You never thought in a million years the name princess coming from his mouth would hit you, but for some odd reason, it did. Maybe it was because of his impromptu alliteration. Or the wink–no, it couldn’t have been the wink. Maybe it was the octave of his voice? You noticed how it got a tad deeper when he talked to you compared to how he did earlier. Were you looking too far into it?

Fuck, now he’s got you in your head.

Was this his job all along?

“How does that idea sound?” Brandon’s voice pulled you from your overwhelming thoughts, but not fast enough.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch what you said,” You apologize with a head shake. He repeats, and you write it down. This goes on for about an hour or so; you two throwing ideas back and forth.

You tried to find middle ground. You assumed you would be writing some sci-fi romance, and you were correct. Although you wanted to be there in the moment, you couldn’t stop thinking about Tom, and just the thought infuriated you. If you were present, you wouldn’t have complied and agreed to some of Brandon’s suggestions without more of a fight. The more ideas he spouted out, the weirder they got.

“Robots…God, I love writing about robots. Robots falling in love?” he pauses for a moment. “while trying to take over the world! You have to write that one down.”

You wrote it down, but your mind was moving differently than your body. As he suggested more topics, you zoned out completely. He was clearly very into the process and you…couldn’t have been farther from it. Like an echo, Tom lingered in your mind.

Where was he? What was he doing? Was he having sex right now? Why wasn’t he bothering you anymore?

You might have told him please, but Tom is just as stubborn as they come. You can’t say much though because you’re just as stubborn yourself. Maybe that’s why you two always bicker. You wondered if he fought with anyone else like how he battled you. Was he trying to make you mad just for the fun of it, or did he want something more?

Was there really a list? You can’t be the only person who’s considered that, right?

“Oh no.” The two words out of Brandon’s mouth brought you back because they were different from one of his absurd ideas. His eyes are staring at his phone screen once you start focusing in on him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“It’s…a family emergency. Shit, Y/N, I have to go up North. Like right now. Do you think we can pick this up in a few days?” He wavers out nervously and clearly full of panic.

“Y-yeah, of course!” You blink rapidly at the sudden change and nod to every word without really thinking.

“Are you sure?” He questions, but he’s already standing up from the table with his backpack tight around his shoulders and his keys in his hand.

“Yes, now go!” You flee him from the house, so he can get a head-start on his drive. As his car zooms down the street, your eyes wander to the empty driveway of the house. And then it gets you wondering again.

How are you going to get to your dorm?

“Fuck,” You grumble in the evening air, the sun barely beginning to set.

You had no money on you, and of course your card wasn’t linked to your phone, so you couldn’t buy an Uber, Lyft, or anything. You creep your way back into the frat house with slugged shoulders. You drop yourself onto the small couch as silence roams around. You never in your life thought that a frat house, or any house with just guys, would be this quiet. It makes sense that they’re all out though because they’re all social butterflies trying to get laid at the latest party. Woo hoo. Sense the sarcasm?

Feeling sorry for yourself, you wander around the house. You pad the entire downstairs area before making your way up the staircase. The second you touch the top step, your curiosity starts to plague you.

Where’s Tom’s room?

Yeah, okay, maybe it’s rude, but you don’t know what to do. And, come on, it’s Tom. He doesn’t care. More specifically, you don’t care. You don’t care that you’re about to snoop his room because no one is here and it’s not like he’s going to know, right?

There’s about five bedrooms upstairs and three of the doors were open. With delicacy, you barely pushed open the doors that weren’t closed completely as if they would creak loudly and someone would find you. You peeked in a few rooms, glancing at the designs to see if you saw something that related to Tom. None of the rooms seemed fitting.

And then, like a lightbulb, you remembered that Tom was the leader, or whatever bullshit they called him. You know the title only ever gave him an ego boost. In most cases, the “leader” gets the biggest bedroom, well, at least that’s what it was like at your friend’s sorority house. So, testing your theory, you trail down the carpeted hallway until you reach the last room, which you assumed was the largest. Turning the knob, your eyes stare at the master bedroom before you.

Called it.

The room had white walls, just like the others. But Tom had a lot more personality through his decorating than you would have thought and it was…surprisingly…well-kept. Maybe it wasn’t his room.

As you stepped a foot inside, you got the hint that his favorite color was blue; navy bed sheets, baby blue desk lamp, midnight-colored nightstand, cyan desk chair, and a few other accessories that solidified the idea. Your eyes stay glued to his bed for a moment. It was a little ruffled, like he had been sleeping in it, but you knew that bed had been through more than just sleeping. You never thought you’d feel bad for a mattress and some sheets.

Before you know it, you’re traveling towards his desk, which was white (everything was very randomly assorted). You nibble on your bottom lip, debating on if it’s worth digging through the four drawers to find the one thing that’s been nagging you for months.

The list.

Something deep inside of you is warning you that searching through his belongings is a bad idea, but there’s really nothing that stops you from pulling open the first compartment. Carefully, you shift around the assortment of pens and pencils until you admit there’s nothing but those in there. Moving on to the second drawer below the first, it’s extremely heavy. Then you realize the weight is from three hefty textbooks that look completely untouched.

Makes sense.

In the next top drawer, there’s nothing useful beside clean, unused binder paper. Losing all hopes of being right, you check the final drawer. Just in case.

You didn’t know what you were going to find inside of there. But whatever you may have thought, it wasn’t this.

In the deep compartment was a bunch of clothes. Women’s clothes. A few shirts, even some socks, but mainly bras and panties. You almost touched them to sift through it, but immediately retracted your hand before doing so, assuming these articles haven’t been cleaned. Your face is frozen in disgust at the pile as if your gaze is going to burn all of it away.

“I thought it would take a lot more work to get you into my bedroom,” A deep accent says, causing you to jot and slam the drawer closed.

From your crouch, you fall to the ground, heart racing erratically at the sight of Tom. Every nerve of your body was screaming in alert because you thought you were alone. Layers of goosebumps litter your skin when you visually take in his appearance; frizzy, damp hair, dark blue briefs, and a white towel draped over his buff shoulder. You swallow every bit of your saliva and leave your mouth completely dry as your eyes shamefully trail down his entire physique.

It’s not like he’s trying to hide anything.

“It’s a bit rude to stare, yeah?” he ticks, using the towel to dry his hair a bit more. His briefs were a little tight, and you wondered if they were the wrong size. Especially from your seat on the floor, you got the perfect view of his bulge outline. Your stomach burned and your eyes couldn’t stop blinking, trying to make the image go away, but it didn’t. It was real. At this point, he’s basically just giving you a free show. You mentally hated yourself for enjoying every second of it.

Stop it. Now, how are you going to get out of this?

“What were you looking for?” Tom asks almost innocently with a lick of his pink lips, trying to hold back a little smirk. Tom liked watching you snap, but he loved when you were flustered. He loves watching you get embarrassed because you feel hot all over. It’s a sight to see.

“Something to get you arrested,” You reply just as lightly, trying to hide your startledness before awkwardly pushing yourself on your feet. You try to keep your eyes away from him, but it’s difficult when his body is practically glistening in all its chiseled glory.

“Like what? A gun?” he jokes with a charming smile, slowly striding closer to you. Your breathing staggered a tad, but you kept your composure. Mostly.

He honestly looked like he had a gun in his briefs.

He laughs.

“I hope you know it’s not a gun, princess,” That lingering smirk is plastered on his arrogant face again and you wanted to punch it off of him. You couldn’t believe yourself for thinking out loud, especially because it was the last thing you wanted him to hear. You knew it was only an ego-booster. Your entire body flushes in overwhelming heat, wondering how you’re ever going to escape his looming presence.

“I-I obviously know that’s not a gun, Thomas,” You grind your molars at your stuttering because it makes you look and sound weak. Your trembling fingers turn into heated fists that have been ignited by only one thing; your arousal.

“Thomas? That’s a new one,” While you’re stuck in place, Tom doesn’t shy away from inching closer towards you. You don’t even realize it, but you’re holding your breath. “Are you okay, Y/N? You look a bit…flushed.”

Your heart unconsciously stammers against your chest, attempting to find an outlet. But there is none. Just like there is no escape from Tom as he stands in front of you unmoving. He’s so close, impossibly so, that your pounding heart is lurching towards his.

“It’s…hot in here,” You reply with an observation. Your voice was whispering as if your voice was afraid to speak any louder. With his proximity he could probably hear every heated pump of your blood.

“Like the song,” Tom smirks because he knows the real reason why you’re all hot and bothered. It’s something deeper than the temperature of his bedroom (because it really wasn’t that warm). “You know it, right?”

“Yeah, who doesn’t?” You almost roll your eyes before you stop yourself.

“Remind me, what’s the next lyric?”

A wave of heat crashes over your neck at his words, deep and low. Your stomach was burning with desire while your clit was throbbing in your underwear. You never would have thought that you’d be turned on by Tom, but you were doing only the impossible today.

Escaping this situation has left your mind. The only thing in your head now is staying in it.

“Take off all your clothes,” A breathless sound wavers out of your throat and you’re surprised you were even able to respond. Tom’s face is smug, almost proud at how flushed you are. His hand reaches up and ever-so delicately traces over your jawline. It was so gentle, but because he was finally touching you, you nearly moaned. You’ve never needed someone so badly before, and you never thought the person you’d be needing the most would be Tom.

You keep thinking that, but it’s just so hard to comprehend the idea of anything Tom.

“Is that something you want?” Tom’s husky voice fans over your heated skin as his fingers trail down your neck. Your chest raises up and down, and even if you’re trying to fight the feeling, you can’t. Your entire body wants him–no, damn-near craves him–to the point where you can’t even speak. Your subconsciousness hates you because you know how much he is just loving this. You hate to give him such satisfaction. “D’you want to strip? Right here in front of me? Or do you want me to do it for you? Because–”

“Yes,” You whisper with your eyes facing his chest, too afraid to stare into his lust-taken eyes.

“No,” he says, and for a moment when he took a breath, you thought he’d just rejected you. “I need to hear you say it all. I need to hear you tell me what you want. Tell me how bad you want it. I bet I can give it to you. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

His words practically made you a puddle at his feet, but they also made you want to slap him with those heavy textbooks until he learned some manners. Has he really been waiting for you? Or is that just another one of his lines? One that he uses on every single girl he gets in his bed?

Your mind might have cared at any other time, but your body overruled.

“I want…” Your mind was filled with so many possibilities, it was crowding your brain. Tom’s hand that was tracing your jawline then cupped your neck gently, causing you to sigh. You couldn’t resist swallowing all of your saliva again along with your pride. Because you were about to do something really stupid. If you were in a clear mindset, this would have never happened, you’re sure of it. But common sense isn’t here to guide you right now; only desire and lust. “I want you to fuck me, Tom. Hard. Harder than you’ve ever fucked anybody before.”

“Not quite what I was looking for, but I’ll get you there.”

Tom doesn’t hesitate to wrap his hand completely around your neck while crashing his lips to yours. They mush together so sloppily, you could barely call it a kiss. But, damn, did it feel good. Fire and passion laced your lips, and it was so intoxicating that you thought you would overdose on his euphoria. Your mind couldn’t even react properly while your body was going haywire. One of your hands snaked up to the nape of his neck while the other was squeezing his naked bicep tightly.

The proximity of your bodies was about to make you pass out from a heat stroke.

In the misty moment, he leads you towards the bed. If you’d known better, you would have pushed him and told him to fuck off because he would not get to sleep with you. But you didn’t know better. Matter of fact, the only thing you knew right now was Tom Tom Tom.

When your knees hit the edge of the mattress, your body goes tumbling backwards, causing your heart to race even more than it had been. You break the kiss in a gasp, but Tom doesn’t let you fall too far, holding you securely with one hand on your waist and the other on your neck.

“Already falling for me. It’s a bit soon, yeah?” Tom flirts condescendingly with a single chuckle, standing on the edge after dropping you onto the bed. Good, you thought. You didn’t want delicacy anymore. You wanted roughness. You couldn’t allow yourself to be sweet and intimate with Tom. Not if you didn’t want to fall in love with him or get attached.

Not that that was possible.

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying to, princess,” Even with the insult, his smirk lingers on like a tattoo. Although you despise that ridiculous nickname, your body didn’t care. When the word rolled off his tongue, your stomach erupted in needy desire and your cunt clenched around nothing. Tom isn’t new to a woman’s arousal. He knows when someone is turned on. It appears in their voice, their body obviously, but always in their eyes. And that lust was laced within you: in your voice, body, and eyes.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” he taunts, hovering over your trembling body while your mind still tries to come to terms with what the fuck is happening.

“Of course not,” You grumble, but it comes out all quiet.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that. Maybe you’ll be surprised,” he infamously winks before traveling down your neck in harsh kisses. You try to withhold the whimpers he’s causing because it's impossible with the amount of pleasure you’re feeling.

Kneeling on both sides of you, Tom’s hands weave their way under your top, exploring your torso mindlessly. His palms are heavy and rough, the only type you wanted to feel when it came to him. You were wearing a simple bralette that you would feel his fingers trace over impatiently.

“Take it off,” You moaned when he nimbled a bit hard behind your ear. You felt him breathe a chuckle, and you just knew he was smirking. As per usual.

“That’s not very nice,” Tom tsks, halting all his movements and hovering over your flushed face. You were in a daze and he hasn’t even done anything yet. Your core was on fire waiting desperately to be taken care of by the so-called “sex god.”

“I didn’t want it to be,” Grumbling, you grind on your teeth again in impatience. “This was a mistake–”

In complete irritation, despite your body’s desires, you force yourself to sit up. However, Tom does not let that slide. Within seconds your arms are being pinned above your head and he is straddling your hips snuggly. There was no escaping him.

In this position, you could feel his bulge barely pressing against your lower tummy. The thickness nearly made you moan because you were so desperate for it, but God knows you would never get on your knees and beg for it. That’s the last thing you’ll ever do, especially for someone like Tom.

“Slow down there, princess. We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already trying to do the walk of shame.”

“Because you’re being an asshole!”

“I just wanted you to say please, princess,” Tom says innocently, but the most devilish smile rises upon his lips. It’s cruel how contradicting the two are, but you loved it. It spiraled you on even more. “Now, I don’t really care what you say.”

Following his word, Tom didn’t listen to a single word you said. Even though they only consisted of calling him a dickhead, asshole, and fucker, but that’s not the point. Before you know it, your clothes are stripped completely from you and you’re basically in the same predicament as Tom. He clips off your bralette and hastily rips it from your body, tossing it to some unknown place on his surprisingly well-kept floor.

Your breath hinges at the new vulnerability. Tom licks his lips lustfully at the sight of your near-naked body, but doesn’t say anything. No two-cented comment or some witted joke. Nope. Nothing. Something inside of you tingled.

His aggressive hands roughly massaged your breasts. He twisted and flicked your nipples with no care in the world, and that’s just how you liked it. You released a breathy moan when your nipples reached their peak, but he didn’t stop his miniature torture. Mindlessly, you bucked your hips up, right into him.

“Getting off just from some nipple play? God, you must be desperate,” Tom dryly chuckles.

“Shut up,” You groan when his mouth latches onto your raw nipple, intensifying the pain and pleasure that’s firing up in your body.

Tom’s wandering tongue finally makes it down to your underwear, which is soaked through with your arousal. You’re embarrassed to discover his reaction because you know it’s only going to make him even more air-headed than he already is. Your legs are tightly closed, but you widen them just a tad more. Tom isn’t having it.

“Open. I want to see what I do to you.”

You swear your heart skipped a beat because you nearly fucking died right there. Annoyingly obeying him, you open your legs more, giving him more access to your vulnerability. Also, giving him more ammunition to use to make fun of you. You knew for a fact that you would regret all of this in the future, but right now, for some fucking reason, you didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck,” Tom growled so low that you almost didn’t hear him. His face was now so close to you that you could practically feel his grumble vibrate through your thighs and straight to your cunt. “This is what I do to you? This whole time? And you’ve been running away…how selfish of you. To keep this from me.”

“I’m selfish? You are definitely the last person that’s–” The power of your words are cut short when he slides down your panties without hesitation. “–able to say that.”

“How about you stop saying stuff and let me get on with it?”

“Oh, please! Like I’m the one that’s stopping you.”

“Look who learned how to say please,” he smirks, hands prying open your thighs even wider than before. You inhale sharply as your cunt opens completely for him, dripping in your arousal. “Now, shut the fuck up unless you’re crying my name. Got it, princess?”

In the midst of an eyeroll, Tom places his mouth onto your clit. Places might be the wrong word. He latched his mouth hungrily onto you, like he would starve if he didn’t have you right now. Your eyes squeeze shut in shock, trying to decipher the incredible feeling of his mouth on you. Slurping and licking, Tom devours you whole and you can’t stop your body from squirming all over the place from the overwhelming euphoria.

To make you even more insane and to make you lose a bit more of your brain cells, Tom slyly slips one of his fingers in your cunt. It was undeniably soaking, so he slid it in easily. His pace is rigorous, thrusting in and out while sucking harshly on your clit.

Like Tom had requested, you were moaning. At first, it was just a few noises, but then, it turned into his name. The only word you seemed to know was Tom as you wailed and cried from his attack on your cunt. Even as your hips bucked into his face, he held you securely down with his forearm and continued to ram into you until you eventually came.

When you came, it was like you were hit by a freight train. Your orgasm slammed over you so powerfully that you saw stars for a moment. Oh, and you squirted, which you’ve never done before. Your wetness dripped down Tom’s face, and it was kind of funny to you, even if you felt a little bad about it (not really). But Tom had that tattooed-smirk on his face that let you know he was enjoying himself too much. Conceited as always.

“Didn’t know you were a squirter,” Tom wipes away your orgasm with his shower towel while your entire face goes hot again.

“Neither did I.”

“First time? What a pleasure.”

“Oh, shut up,” You roll your eyes, forgetting that he actually likes that. He smiles, but hides it with a smirk. Then Tom pulls down his tight briefs. Looking at his equipment, you nearly choked. It was thick and veiny, and the tip was an angry pink.

You wanted him inside of you, but if this was going to be the only time you do this, might as well get your fill.

“Actually,” You start, heart thumping rapidly. “Can I…”

You didn’t even really ask, you just slowly lowered yourself onto the floor. Tom didn’t stop you, just watched as you kneeled. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his cock, waiting for him to terminate your movements.

“I’d never say no to a blowjob, princess.”

Rolling your eyes, your warm fingertips rub over his leaking slit. He hisses at the sudden contact, but moans gutturally when your tongue touches him. You lick up his shaft, soaking the entire surface with your saliva. Tom’s hefty hands find themselves tangled in your hair, using it for balance.

Once you take him deeper into your mouth, the urge to pump himself down your throat gets tougher. You hollow out your cheeks, slurping up and down until your face is burning. With confidence, you push him lower down your throat until you gag around his length.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groans, his sounds echoing on his blue walls. His stomach contracts, abs tensing as he senses his high approaching.

A few tears twinkle in your eyes, and to kill Tom even more, you decide to stare up at him through your lashes. Your expression appears innocent, but he knows you’re anything but with the way you’re taking his cock amazingly.

When Tom can’t restrain himself anymore, his hips start bucking into your face. He feels you moan against him even if he caught you off guard, sending a wave of vibration through his whole body euphorically. His grip on your hair tightens while the tears that were brimming your eyes start to fall down like a waterfall.

The picture of you crying while his cock was shoved down your throat was enough to get him off through the rest of college. Maybe even the rest of his 20s. You wanted it rough, and you took him like a champ.

With your fingernails digging into his thighs, Tom was sure to come soon. And in the next few moments, he did. He was so blindsided that he didn’t warn you, didn’t tell you to get off of him so you didn’t choke on his cum. But then, you swallowed him without any hesitation.

Tom was nearly hard again because of it.

His remaining orgasm leaked from the corners of your lips, which you wiped away with the towel on the bed. Tom was trying to not appear dumbstruck while you were trying to rid the tears from your face, even though you were almost positive that Tom got off on them.

You had done a lot of blowjobs and deepthroating throughout your college years because again, men aren’t too nice or generous. You just so happen to be both.

As you stand up from the ground, Tom doesn’t wait to push you onto the mattress again.

“That was…” he starts before groaning quietly. Was he reliving it? “I need to be deep inside of your cunt.”

You blinked at the suddenness of his words. He couldn’t give you a single compliment? At this point, you weren’t going to waste anymore time fighting about it. Looking at his cock, he was basically hard again. That seemed like a compliment in itself. His angry tip and thick veins looked like if he knew how to use his dick, it could potentially destroy you. Isn’t that what you wanted, though?

Hell yes.

“Get on with it then,” You pressed, trying to widen your legs a bit more. After your first orgasm and Tom’s, you’re not as shaky as you’d been in the beginning. You got some of your wits back.

“Impatient much? Didn’t the palace ever teach you manners?” Tom jokes with a knowing smirk before hovering over you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes irritatingly at his extra comment. His cock thumped over your clit a few times, causing you to gasp at the weighted feeling. You didn’t even know he had put a condom on, but the texture of his cock felt like latex, so you assumed.

Even though you told him to get on with it, he doesn’t. Tom’s lips kiss and bite your neck while he continuously slaps your clit with his heavy cock. Whimpers elicited from your mouth at the friction; it wasn’t a lot, but you were still sensitive from your last orgasm. Every time his dick hit the hood of your clit, shots of electricity fired inside of you.

“T-Tom!” You shouted annoyed, attempting to get his attention. But of course, your voice came out as a wavering moan and you saw his ego fly into the sky like a rocket. You can never win, can you? “Can you just fuck me already? What’s with all the foreplay?”

“Can you just shut the fuck up?” Tom stops all of his movements and grasps your throat in his hand. You glare into his blackened-eyes with an angered lust that he’s never seen before. But he likes it. He really likes it. “I’ll fuck you. Yeah, and I’ll keep fucking you until I’m done.”

His last words come out as a growl, one that was so primal and aggressive, you couldn’t stop the arousal that leaked from you. Finally, Tom pushes himself inside of you with no mercy.

Tom’s fingers are still wrapped around your throat, his pressure on and off so you get a millisecond to breathe. His cock slams into you at a meticulous and quick pace. Even with the condom on, you can feel every inch of his length sliding through you like it was raw.

You couldn’t even imagine how good it would feel if it was raw.

With no warning, Tom begins to flick his hips up into you. A broken croak elicits from your trapped throat while your cunt squeezes his cock harshly.

“Fuckin’ love this, aren’t you? Love how I fuck you? Love how I talk to you like you’re nothing?” His voice is guttural and low, laced with lust and degradation. “You’re just a hole f’me. A hole so fucking tight I can barely get my big cock through.”

You hate how egotistical he is, but your core is still on fire with every one of his words. He releases pressure on your throat for a bit longer, and you cry out in moans. His now free hand gropes your breast, slapping and twisting the nipple without care. Your back arched so aggressively, you thought you might cramp up.

Tom rammed into you like there was no tomorrow. His balls slammed against you while his light pubic hair tickled your clit and gave you just a bit more stimulation. Everything was making you float. Your body was just taking everything he was giving you and you were loving it. All the other times you’ve had sex they were gentle and sweet, but now, you’ve realized that it was just boring.

Tom somehow manages to curve his cock inside of you in such a way that it hits you in the perfect spot. A scream of his name flies out of your mouth before you clench snuggly around his shaft again. His name is the only thing your lips know.

“Daddy! Fuck,” You gasp at your own words, the title just slipping out. Your hand covers your mouth in a haste, shutting yourself up before you say anything else. Your eyes screw shut in embarrassment, hoping he didn’t hear you. But it was hard not to when you fucking screamed it. The neighbors probably heard you.

When you got too deep into it, you tended to say things like that. However, you’re usually able to compose yourself before you let it slip. But the way Tom is absolutely destroying you gives you no time to think, no time to do anything but feel.

“Of course, you’re fucking filthy. If I knew you were such a slut, I would’ve made you beg for my cock,” Tom growls in your neck, pounding into you with no remorse. Your mind is in a haze and your body is still on fire from embarrassment and passion. You tried your hardest to hold in your moans after satisfying him with that title, but Tom won’t let you.

He rips your hand away from your mouth, and for leverage, you instantly grip onto his shoulders. With each hostile thrust, your nails dig deeper into his skin, creating red curves all over him. Somewhere inside of you felt a sense of pride because you know that there will be marks later on. Is this what Tom feels like all the time?

Your cunt clutches his dick again, but this time your orgasm is near. Your hand travels down in between you two to rub your clit, but Tom beats you to it. His rough fingertips violently circle the little nub, sending your eyes rolling backwards. When you feel his pace slowing just a tad, you assume that he’s just as close.

“Daddy,” You mewl, scratching his arm as your hips thrust up towards his. Yeah, you were pretty deep.

But so was he.

“Know you’re close, baby. Feel you squeezin’ m’cock,” Tom grumbles gravely in your ear, and his voice sends a tingle down your arched spine. Although it was rough and raggedy, it was the softest he’s been to you all night. “Come, right fucking now, princess.”

Yeah, you might despise him outside of the bedroom, and maybe a little bit in it, but who are you to disobey such a thing?

Your entire body tenses and your heart stops. You don’t even feel yourself breathing as your orgasm washes over you like a never-ending tsunami. Your brain is overwhelmingly fuzzy, your breasts are sore, and your cunt is aching from all it. But you loved every bit of it. It was something you didn’t know you wanted, but when you got it, it changed your views and feelings on everything.

Sliding in and out of you slickly, Tom comes soon after you with a string of profanities falling from his pretty lips. Even if he was conceited, he was a striking man. His body was hand-crafted by God in addition to going to the gym every day. When his muscles contracted over you, you couldn’t stop fawning over him. And his face was remarkable, it was unfair how someone could be given so many good social-standard genes. You wished you could say it was all a rumor. But it was hard to insult his looks when everything he gloated about was true. It was just annoying that he was aware of it.

Funny, right?

“Y/N,” Tom repeated your name over you, hoping you would wake up in the present moment. You were clearly in your head and Tom was a little concerned to say the least. Maybe he sleeps with a bunch of different women and maybe he’s arrogant, but that doesn’t mean he’s heartless.

Blinking several times, you snap out of whatever mindless daze you’ve been in. He’d already thrown away the condom and put on some boxers, not briefs. He gently wiped any excess orgasm away with his towel, your body subtly squirming from the stimulation. When Tom finally sees you coming to your senses, he slowly leans away from you, assuming you want space.

“Wait,” You find yourself saying without knowing what you want him to wait for. When his body rose from yours, you felt cold. It was so uncomforting, knowing that you’ve been so warm this entire time. Tom stares down at your naked body and watches goosebumps fan your skin. Your nipples pebble and stomach contracts. You feel so vulnerable.

“What?” Tom asks a little breathily, one arm holding himself up for balance. He couldn’t really say anything else. For the first time in a while, he’s completely starstruck by you. Your bare figure with your lion-like frizz of hair on his bed, tangled in his blue sheets is a sight he’ll never unsee. He honestly thinks he needs a moment to collect himself before staring at your beauty again.

Have you always been this beautiful?

“It’s…cold.”

“Now, it’s cold? I’m not the weatherman, princess,” Tom smiles like a child with a slight tilt. Your eyes roll like usual, but a smile is tugging at your lips this time. “Maybe you should put some clothes on.”

“Maybe you should shut up,” You retaliate, pushing yourself up. You’re face to face with Tom, merely inches away from each other.

“I love when you fight me,” he compliments, moving his head in little shakes like he adores you. Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

“Why? Because I put you in your place?”

“Something like that,” Tom sits next to you on the bed while you wrap yourself in his sheets. You really didn’t feel like wandering around the entire room completely naked with his eyes watching you. “Also, what were you looking for earlier? I know it wasn’t a gun.”

That familiar wave of heat flushes your skin and your mouth gets all dry. Are you sweating?

“Pfft, I don’t even remember. Must have slipped my mind,” Out of all the things you could have said, you decided to act stupid. Good going.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad. I’ve probably heard worse,” Your wide eyes meet his, full of embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m assuming it’s some rumor thing you heard, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Tell me.” You’ve already had sex with him, and that’s the lowest you could go. So, it can’t be worse than that.

“I was looking for the list.”

“Not even a list but the list? Must be some pretty special list,” he smirks with an arrogant lick of his lips. One of your hands rubs your arm for comfort while you explain the entirety of what you’ve heard. It took a few minutes, but Tom was listening to every word. He nodded along with a sly smirk on his lips.

“So, it’s a list of all the people I want to sleep with. Is this list in order?” Out of all the questions he could have asked, that’s what he said? Maybe he is completely conceited.

“I guess so. I assumed you could rearrange it if you’d like.”

“Are the women rated?”

“What? That’s disgusting!” Physically writing down how well someone was at sex was pathetic to you. But the curious cat in your mind was wondering one thing:

What would Tom rate you?

“Well, if I had a list, you’d probably be near the top.”

There is no fucking way you said that out loud.

“You did, though,” Tom laughs while your fists clench his sheets embarrassingly. You fall backwards onto the mattress, covering your face with the bedding.

Why are you still in his room? Why have you not felt the urge to flee yet?

Your skin was burning from embarrassment and your heart was beating sporadically, but your breathing was steady and your mind was decently clear. So, why were you still lying in Tom Holland’s bed naked without a single thought of leaving? Did you…like it?

Or maybe because you have no way home and what’s the rush?

“Hey,” Tom says while you’re still beneath the covers. “Are you still cold?”

“Yes,” You mumble quietly.

“Do you…want to take a bath? Or a shower if that’s weird–” Your head slowly peeks out from the navy blue, finding Tom’s wandering eyes. His large hand was scratching the back of his curly head. A single tingle shot through your body, making you a degree warmer. It was the first time you’ve seen him even a little bit unsure of himself, and that made you smile. Just a tad because it let you know that maybe you’ve made him snap out of whatever bubble he lives in. Even just for a moment.

Discarding the sheet, you sit up on your knees at the edge of the bed. Like before, you’re face to face with Tom, and you can see the struggle in his eyes to not look down at your bare breasts. It nearly makes you break out into a fit of laughter, but you carry on.

“I’ll go with the bath,” You whisper seductively and don’t hide the way you stare down at his pink lips. You couldn’t help it. They just look so kissable.

What is wrong with you!

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it then,” Tom coughs awkwardly. He’s never been like this before. He’s good with the flirting, seducing, foreplay, sex, and even the aftermath of leaving right after. But the second it even gets remotely romantic or intimate, he shuts it down quickly before anything else can happen. Though right now, he’s the one who made it sweet and offered you a bath. A bath is cute and domestic, which is so unlike Tom. He would have never offered something like that before, especially with no one home. He should’ve just kicked you out.

What’s different?

“Oh,” You look at the floor in pretend disappointment. Just to note, you’re still completely naked, standing in front of his bathroom door. You’re so glad he has his own bathroom. “You don’t want to join me?”

Tom blinks, wondering if you’re being serious. He never thought you out of all people would want to have sex in the bathtub, let alone with him. He swallows, trying to keep his cool.

“Yeah, obviously, I was just letting you get a headstart,” Tom rapidly removes his boxers while you strut into the bathroom, shaking your ass in your trail. Streaks of curses leave his mouth while he slams the door closed, not forgetting to lock it.

For the record, the rumor was true; Tom did have a list. It was in a spot he knew no one would check; his textbooks in his desk drawer. A single sheet of paper that has a list of the girls he’s been with and the ones he wants to be with. It’s crazy how such a rumor was developed when no one knew about the list except for himself.

Yes, it was listed in order and he reorganized it whenever he needed to. That’s what erasers are for. He writes it in pencil because nothing is set in stone. It’s honestly hard for him to remember who’s in his top five right now. Yeah, Tom sounds like a complete douchebag, but he didn’t really care.

Tom said that your name would be “near the top” if he had a list. What a liar he is.

Ever since he met you, you’ve been the first on his list. You’re the only name that hasn’t been erased since he wrote it his junior year. Also, you’re the only person who has a little note on the side of her name:

1. Y/N Y/L/N -The one

Tom had a feeling that he won’t have to write any names down, or even need the paper anymore. Even if he never had a list to begin with, he would have never needed one to remember you.

—

i hope you guys liked this i worked hard!! likes, comments, and reblogs are all appreciated <3

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