#content shortcuts

[manmishra]

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[trenchcrows]

so... this is very jon sims..

can you stop now I cry over them enough already

[nerdgirlnarrates]

Lame opinion I guess, but I lose a little respect for people who use chat GPT for assignments. I don’t get why people wanna avoid learning so badly.

[ackarcue]

Tmbs Ten Men Content once more

Let’s set the scene

McCracken: Well, it appears our means of travel have each been rendered unavailable for reasons both sound and idiotic. The Salamander is under maintenance after Bludgins spotted the busted underside, Hertz short circuited the fake ambulance to blurt out his victims’ cries, and Crawlings, dear boy?

You are never driving the small luxury sedan again lest you wish your stubborn eyebrow to be your only evidence of existence. Am I clear?

Crawlings: Oh come now, the officer gave us a par-

McCracken: Gave you, a ticket. With that out of the way, any suggestions from the peanut gallery?

Mortis: I suppose a modified hearse might do us some good.

Hertz: Ha! What next, my friend? You want plastic spiders and webs along for the ride? I say we fix the ambulance immediately, besides what’s stopping Sharpe from fixing it anyways?

Sharpe: Computers are much more simple than an ambulance, and your toys can wait, Hertz.

Garrote: Well, even our own off-time vehicles are too normal, if still lavish. Besides, Bludgins’ muscle car would give us away.

Bludgins: It’s better than Burnside’s little dingy hog.

Burnside: Say that again and I’ll ignite that ale sac you call a liver. Besides, the missus will notice anything missing since you want to use the family man.

Crawlings: Wait, speaking of which… McCraig! Be a good fellow, you must have an idea, right?

McCraig: Uh… well… I was supposed to take the family out on a boating trip. We have the boat and everything but uh, it hasn’t been used since the priso-

McCracken: Ah! Well done! We have our temporary arrangement-

McCraig: Wait! Wait! We can’t, we-

Sharpe: We currently have 76 confirmed kills, a Swiss bank account, black market dentistry, and a protected position as a frustrated scientists personal child abduction force. I’m pretty sure you can convince your wife.

McCraig: *Gulps* Here goes…

*Phone Rings*

Mrs. McCraig: Honey? What’s wrong? You usually never call me at work.

McCraig: Honey, hi. Listen, my coworkers and I are in a bit of a bind and a way to solve it would be to use the boat and spare ca-

Mrs. McCraig: HAROLD BARTHOLOMEW CRAIG! After all this time of it wasting away in the garage, you only want to use it for your work!? Didn’t you promise Susie you’d let her drive it at the Lake last summer? I can’t believe you-

McCraig: Honey, honey, please, the fellows and I have important work to do, and look how politely they’re asking.

*He shoots the original four a pleading look to even appear remotely grateful as he turns on the FaceTime and leans for them to enter view .*

*McCracken straightens himself and gives a smile, Sharpe slightly nods his head, Garrote beams and looks straight into the phone camera, and Crawlings gives his eyebrow the good ole worm wiggle.*

Mrs. McCraig: … fine. But tell the bald one to check a doctor. That eyebrow looks like it’ll fall off.

McCraig: Yes honey. Thank you dear~ *hangs up*

McCracken: That wasn’t too hard, was it? Now, my colleagues, it’s time to pick seating arrangements.

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia,

I thought I would ask this on tumblr in case anyone else is having this issue. I tried to sign up for your new Ream account under the Gary and Efnisien tier. However I can only access 5 of your posts and the only story linked is the wildness within. I wondered if this was all you had uploaded or whether it's an issue with ream? I tried to download the app in case that was the issue but that didn't work either.

Anon!

You need to read the actual writing in the posts, you'll find links to a Dropbox folder that contains all of the chapters in the same place.

That's all of the chapter commentaries, all of the Augus & Gwyn chapters, and the Gary & Efnisien chapters are coming this Sunday, so that I can link both at the same time.

Please read the posts! The actual descriptions of what you can access via the links is right there in each post. You can see here:

(See where it says All Augus & Gwyn tier early access for 2023? That means all the chapters, from January to now, it's literally all the early access stuff that hasn't gone up yet and quite a bit that has).

You need to click on the links where it's saying this stuff - you can look above where it says: 'Find them here at this Dropbox link in PDF format' (and you do not need a Dropbox link to download everything).

This one has the title:

And says:

'here is a link to all previous chapter commentaries for 2023!!'

That's all of them! From January to now! In the same folder. I'll be populating with earlier years soon, but there's like a good 18 to start with.

Highly recommend you read the content in the posts instead of just looking at the overall number, you might find there's more than you think!

As for the Gary & Efnisien Constellations material, in the first Ream announcement post on Tumblr and also on Discord, I say the equivalent of this:

(but actually it's the 8th, so like in 2 days).

In some ways access is way easier than it was on Patreon, because instead of having to wade through 20 different posts, you link to a single folder and download what you need all at once. (Again, you do not need Dropbox to do this, they're just hosted on Dropbox).

Hope that helps!

[theblindmachine]

"# Mastering AI in Under 40 Minutes: A Game-Changer for Students! Have you ever found yourself staring blankly at a screen, wondering how on earth you'll finish that thesis or project on time? You're not alone! As a passionate advocate for harnessing the power of AI, I want to share how I helped a friend tackle her thesis in less than 40 minutes using ChatGPT. Yes, you read that right—just 40 minutes! But first, let me introduce myself. I'm Ruben Hassid, and my mission is to empower you with the skills to master AI before it masters you. In a world where AI is revolutionizing industries, it's not the robots we should fear—it's the individuals who know how to leverage this technology to their advantage. This blog post is not just about news and trends; it’s about actionable steps you can take today to make AI work for you. Let’s dive into the story of my friend in need. One day, she called up in a panic, distressed about her thesis topic. Curious, I asked for the details, and within moments, I realized I could use ChatGPT to help turn her anxiety into triumph. She provided me with the core idea, and I set to work. Within 40 minutes, I had helped her draft her entire thesis—from the introduction to the conclusion. What’s even more thrilling? I realized that the method I used could easily be replicated by anyone looking to ease their academic stress. That’s why I decided to create a video outlining my exact process. So, if you're struggling with writing tasks, stay tuned, and don’t forget to comment on how much time this might save you! Now, let’s pivot a bit to my journey. In May 2022, I kicked off my LinkedIn adventure with barely 100 followers. Through relentless engagement and valuable content, I soared to 1,000 followers within a month by pouring hours into commenting on others' posts. The momentum didn’t stop; by December, I'd reached 10,000 followers! In just four short months from December to April 2023, I executed my strategy flawlessly, catapulting my following to 100,000. I learned what resonates and what doesn’t, which refined my approach even further. As of August 2023, I crossed a staggering 200,000 followers, establishing myself as a leading voice in artificial intelligence. But it’s not just about the numbers; it’s about the community we create. And that’s why I decided to reboot my YouTube channel to share this journey even more intimately with all of you. Whether you’re a student or a professional looking to up your game, mastering AI can open countless opportunities. From content creation to business strategy, leveraging tools like ChatGPT can give you the edge you need. So, are you ready to join the AI revolution? Let’s make learning fun and impactful! Don’t forget to subscribe to my channel so that you never miss out on these transformative insights and techniques. Thank you for being part of this incredible journey. Let’s conquer the world of AI together!"

[sajidabee]

Mobile App Development by @hrsoftbd

App will be very light, Fast Loading Speed, Simple and User-Friendly Interface, Supporting the Multiple Languages, Payment Integration, Accessibility and Work in Offline Mode.

[ryanthedemiboy]

Somebody I just followed is going to get very tired of me very quickly

[listenonrepeat88]

YouTube isn't just for one-time views—it's a treasure trove of content you can loop endlessly. Want to nail a study topic? Or vibe to your favorite song on repeat? Looping videos is the way to go. Just right-click on the video and hit "Loop," or use tools like ListenOnRepeat or YouTubeloop.net for webless loops. Mobile? There's Shortcuts for iOS and apps on Android.

Remember, while looping can enhance learning or relaxation, too much of a good thing can spark boredom. Set time limits, and mix it up with different sections to keep things fresh. Enjoy the endless replay, but keep it balanced!

[ai-innova7ions]

Unlocking AI's Power: Transforming Live Video Content Creation!

Discover how to unlock the power of AI in transforming live video content creation in this engaging short!

In today's fast-paced digital landscape, understanding audience behavior and enhancing audience engagement are crucial for content creators.

Restream AI:

Learn innovative content strategies that will boost audience retention and elevate your digital marketing efforts. This video provides quick content ideas and effective script resources to streamline your content creation process. Uncover insights analysis and marketing analytics techniques to ensure your content resonates with viewers. Don't miss out on these game-changing engagement hacks and digital outreach strategies that can take your content marketing to the next level! Tune in now and revolutionize your approach to live video content!

[pukicho]

Hi puki I've noticed you've been getting more hate anons recently and wanna check in like genuinely

Hope you're doing okay

Also skyrim is better than hollowknight goodbye 👋 🙂

This ask affects me much more than any hate comment.

You Cur. You don't know SHIT about video GAMES!

You saw the same draugr-looking dungeon copy/pasted 600 fucking times across the map and you ATE IT UP. You sat there, idly drooling, as the same 3 American voice actors tried their absolute WORST to do a convincing Nordic accent for 1,000 FUCKING NPCS in a row. AND YOU SLURPED IT UP.

You fell for the trick. The Howard trick. You saw the cool dragons, you heard that beautiful music, you engaged in the cardinal sin of nostalgia, and you convinced yourself that this ramshackle set of shitty systems meant something more to you than the mere sum of its aesthetic parts. You fell for the flash and never once considered the substance. You base all your future gaming standards on a LIE of poorly-strewn-together SHLOCK.

I love how Skyrim looks and sounds, but what else is there to love? What game is there to love? Nothing... Nothing but a series of cheaply-made content shortcuts that allowed them the means to populate a giant map with the same activity, over and over and over again.

Hollow knight, well now... there's a GAME. A game that also indulges in its own world building and lore, but manages it with ACTUAL GAMEPLAY to boot! Skyrim MIGHT have HK beat in terms of atmosphere (debatable), but man, those 2 Australian blokes took on a giant and won in every other facet. You want to talk about personality? Art? I can't FEEL anything from Skyrim in hindsight, not when it's marred by the visage of onset-late-stage-capitalism Bethesda. That DNA of dead ambition permeates the experience in retrospect, even if a lot of Skyrim is good on its own merits despite this fact. And here we are today, with the hindsight of various future titles to further prove the condition that begun with Skyrim, a condition that eventually turned into the cold, robotic, corporate husk that is Starfield.

[sallufix]

ALWAYS AN ANGEL

Lazy little thing LOL I just keep finding more ways to do shortcuts with my content 😭 Enjoy anyways cuz I think this audio sounds amazing

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° you outshine the morning sun

( sae itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — just a short drabble bc domestic sae has invaded my brain

♡ word count — 705

♡ content — sae itoshi x reader, sae x fem! reader, made sae abt 25 in this, marriage mentioned, pregnancy mentioned. AN: i'd give this man as many babies as he wants.

♡ synopsis — sae itoshi didn't need to be a soccer god, not as long as he had you

The roar of the crowd still buzzed in Sae Itoshi’s ears as he exited the stadium, the post-game adrenaline barely settled in his veins. The night air was thick with the voices of fans calling his name, their desperation and admiration mixing into a cacophony he had long since learned to ignore.

"Sae! Just one autograph!"

"Marry me, Sae! Please! Just one chance!"

"I’d give you as many babies as you want!"

The shrill voices of young girls, the deep admiration from older men, the wistful sighs of women both young and old—none of it meant anything to him. He kept his gaze forward, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he pushed through the chaos. The only thing on his mind was getting home.

A sleek black car idled by the curb, the driver standing by the door, already well aware of the arrangement. No talking. No questions. Just drive and get him home as quickly as possible, and the tip would be hefty. An even bigger one if the trip was fast.

Sae slid into the back seat without a word, the door shutting out the noise of the world outside. He exhaled sharply, leaning back against the seat as the car pulled away from the stadium and into the quiet of the night. The streetlights blurred past, but he barely noticed them. Instead, his hands moved instinctively to his duffel bag, fingers searching through the smallest inside pocket until they curled around something cool and familiar.

A simple silver ring, discreet and unassuming, warmed quickly in his palm. His thumb brushed over the carved initials—his and yours—etched into the metal. He slipped it onto his ring finger, feeling a sense of calm wash over him.

Yeah. He just needed to get home.

The drive was mercifully quick, and before long, he was stepping out of the car and up the pathway to the house—the one place in the world where he wasn’t Sae Itoshi, soccer legend. He barely had time to set his duffel bag down when something small and fast crashed into his leg.

"Daddy!"

A grin tugged at Sae’s lips as he looked down, teal eyes meeting an identical pair staring up at him with pure joy. His daughter, barely three years old, clung to his leg with all her might. Her soft pink hair was pulled up into two messy pigtails, bouncing as she giggled.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, crouching down to scoop her into his arms. She fit so perfectly against him, her tiny hands grabbing onto his jersey as if she never wanted to let go. And he? He didn’t mind one bit.

"Oh! I didn’t know you’d be home so soon," your voice rang out from the kitchen, warm and full of love. Sae glanced up just as you turned the corner, a wooden spoon in your hand, eyes crinkling at the sight of him. "The game just ended."

"Took a shortcut," he said simply, stepping closer to you.

His gaze flickered down to the soft curve of your stomach, where a second life—one he helped create—was steadily growing. Without hesitation, he reached out, resting a gentle hand there, feeling the warmth of your body beneath his fingertips.

A soft smile played on your lips as he leaned in, pressing a quick but meaningful kiss against them. Before you could deepen it, a tiny voice piped up between you.

"Yuck!" your daughter squealed, squirming in his arms.

You laughed, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of pink hair behind her ear. "You say that now, but one day, you’ll think it’s sweet."

"Nuh-uh!" she insisted, her little nose scrunching up in defiance.

Sae chuckled, finally feeling the weight of the world ease off his shoulders. Here, there were no screaming fans, no demanding coaches, no suffocating expectations. Just you, your daughter, and the quiet hum of home.

Sae Itoshi didn’t need fangirls, fanboys, or old women begging for his attention. He didn’t need adoration from the world, validation from the media, or the empty promises of strangers who only saw him as a soccer god.

Sae Itoshi just needed this.

Sae Itoshi just needed to be home.

Sae Itoshi just needed you.

posting this as an apology for going MIA for a bit :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

[papayainsectorone]

Corner Shop Boy

summary: corner shop and certified helpful neighbor lando and uni girl reader just kinda fall quiet quickly

content: no warnings, just fluff

word count: 5,6k

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

a thought: i wanted to write corner shop lando so bad bc how fucking cute can this man get??? i love these photos, i´m not fully in love with this story but i hope you enjoy it anyways

a´s masterlist

You’re already speed-walking the moment your feet hit the pavement outside the bus stop. The London air is humid and clings to your skin as you cut through side streets and familiar shortcuts, dodging puddles and grumbling at the traitorous bus that left without you.

By the time you reach the corner shop, your chest is tight from the effort, your backpack bouncing against your back with each hurried step. You wrestle with the zipper, tugging your apron halfway out before you even make it through the door.

The bell above the door jingles. You don’t even look up.

“Hattie, I’m so sorry,” you start, breathless, as you shimmy into your apron. “I missed the bus, and then I practically ran here—”

You’re halfway tying the knot at your back when you turn around.

“Really, you know I’m never late, I’m so—”

You stop.

That is definitely not Hattie.

There’s a guy behind the counter. Not tall but tall-ish compared to you, brown curls a little mussed like he’s been running a hand through them all day. Hoodie faded and hands casually resting on the edge of the till. He blinks at you.

“Sorry?” he says.

“Huh?” you reply, brain glitching slightly.

“You said you’re sorry,” he says, with a small smile.

“Oh. Yeah. And you’re… not Hattie,” you manage, eyes narrowing just slightly as you try to make sense of his existence.

“No, I’m Lando,” he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “It’s nice to meet you, Sorry.”

The delivery is flat, and the smirk that follows is clearly self-aware. It’s the kind of joke your dad would make after two pints and a long day of yard work.

You blink.

And then—god help you—you giggle. Just a bit.

You clear your throat, trying to collect whatever scraps of dignity survived your dramatic entrance.

“I’m—” you pause, smile crooked. “I’m not actually called Sorry.” You step behind the counter, shifting your bag off your shoulder.

He grins. “Oh nice to meet you, Not Actually Called Sorry then.”

You let out a soft laugh, then glance around. “So... where’s Hattie?”

Lando’s smile softens a little. “She had a bit of an accident. Nothing huge, but... her daughter finally convinced her to rest for once. She had to have surgery, so—yeah.”

Your expression shifts immediately, worry settling into your features. “Wait—what? Is she okay? What happened?”

He nods quickly, reassuring. “Yeah, yeah, she’s alright. Slipped on her front step, of all places. Surgery went fine, she’s just on forced bedrest now. Driving her mad, obviously.”

You exhale, some of the tension in your shoulders easing. “God. That woman moves more than I do—being stuck in bed must be torture.”

“Trust me,” he says, half-smiling. “I got a list of instructions longer than my arm. Including feeding her cat exactly at 6 p.m. Like it’s royalty.”

You blink. “So, you’re her neighbor then?”

“Since I was a kid,” he says, nodding. “She used to yell at me when I rode my bike too fast past her flower beds. Then gave me biscuits two minutes later.”

That makes you smile—yeah, that sounds like Hattie.

“She told me someone worked here a few evenings after uni, but didn’t say anything else.” His eyes flick to you. “Didn’t expect you to come flying in like that.”

You groan. “I swear I’m usually early. Like, aggressively early. Hattie always tells me to take my time but i could never keep her waiting.”

Lando chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’re only, like… five minutes late. And now you’re here to rescue me from guessing which shelf the stuff goes on.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, tying your apron properly now. “Okay. First of all, those—” you point accusingly to a half-filled shelf, “—are supposed to be color-coded left to right, not just… chaos.”

Lando glances over his shoulder at his handiwork and winces. “Ah. Right. My bad.”

“Red, orange, yellow, green, blue,” you list off, stepping over to start rearranging. “It’s like the snack rainbow.”

“I feel like I’m being lectured by a very kind but terrifying librarian.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you know how many people go straight to that shelf after school? It’s sacred ground.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, smiling. “Got it. Respect the sacred sweets.”

As you both fall into a rhythm—him handing you bags of candy, you sorting them with surgical precision—your earlier nerves begin to settle. He’s easy to talk to. Warm. Funny, in that effortlessly dumb way that makes you roll your eyes but still kind of smile.

You catch him watching you line up a row of Freddos like they’re soldiers. “You’re really serious about this.”

“You’re in Hattie´s house now,” you say without looking up. “And in this house, the chocolate is straight.”

He lets out a laugh that makes your stomach flip just slightly. “I’ll try not to dishonor her legacy.”

“Good,” you say, brushing your hands together like you’ve just restored order to the universe. “Because next, we tackle the crisp shelf. And I will judge your opinions.”

It’s quiet by the time the last customer leaves, a man who spent a suspiciously long time deciding between two scratch cards and left with neither. You watch the door swing shut behind him, then glance at the clock above the fridge.

“Closing time,” you say, stretching your arms above your head.

Lando looks up from the till, where he’s frowning at a half-crushed receipt roll. “Already?”

You nod, grabbing the keys from the hook near the cigarette shelf. “The days go fast when you’re busy rearranging every single magazine I already fixed.”

He flashes a sheepish grin. “Okay, but admit it—I got better.”

“You stopped stacking them upside down. That’s the bare minimum.”

He laughs as you both move around in tandem, flicking switches, counting the till, straightening shelves. It’s strange how natural it already feels—working next to him, the easy rhythm you’ve fallen into. The chatter, the small bumps of elbows in tight spaces, the way you both laugh at the same ridiculous brand names.

Lando’s wiping down the counter when he says, “So do you always close alone?”

You shrug. “Usually. Sometimes Hattie helps if she’s not too tired already. But I don’t mind. It’s kind of peaceful when it’s quiet like this.”

He nods, looking around the shop like he’s seeing it through that same lens. “Yeah. I get that.”

You flip the sign to CLOSED, lock the door, and turn to see him leaning casually against the sweet counter, arms crossed, watching you with a faint smile.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he says, but it’s not quite nothing. “You just… really care about this place.”

You glance around the shop—the familiar glow of the fridge lights, the warm smell of cardboard and old sugar, the shelf Hattie lets you decorate during holidays. Your chest softens.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

There’s a beat. One of those quiet, still ones that could stretch or snap at any second.

Then he grins, breaking it.

Lando leans against the counter, eyes gleaming. “Alright, last serious question. If you could only eat one chocolate from this shop for the rest of your life... what would it be?”

You gasp, hand to your chest. “One? That’s brutal.”

“I don’t make the rules.”

You narrow your eyes, arms crossing. “So, I’m guessing you’ve already thought long and hard about your answer?”

“My answer?” He blinks, mock offended. “No—definitely not. Absolutely not. Never think about chocolate constantly.”

You tilt your head, grinning. “Okay then. On three.”

“1…”

“2…”

“3.”

“Kinder,” you both say at the same time—then crack up laughing.

And somehow, as the shop lights click off behind you and the door swings shut, the air cooler now with nightfall, it doesn’t feel like you’ve just finished a shift. It feels like you’ve shared something secret—something made of chocolate, teasing glances, and the kind of quiet ease that sneaks up on you.

Your backpack feels lighter somehow, and the buzz of fluorescent shop lights still lingers behind your eyes.

You walk slowly.

There’s no rush. Not tonight.

You smile to yourself. It’s dumb. It’s barely anything. But it feels like… something.

A few streets over, Lando fumbles with a spare key outside Hattie’s back door, a slightly squashed pouch of cat treats tucked under his arm. He finally gets the door open and is immediately greeted by the low, offended meow of an ancient tabby.

“Alright, alright, I’m here,” he murmurs, toeing off his sneakers. “Keep your fur on, man.”

Hattie’s kitchen is old-school cozy, floral tea towels, yellowed notes stuck to the fridge with novelty magnets, the faint smell of lavender and something baked months ago.

He fills the bowl, refreshes the water, lets the cat sniff his laces like it’s doing a background check. Once the judgmental feline finally starts eating, he pulls out his phone and taps Hattie’s name.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Well?” she demands. No hello.

Lando laughs. “Operation Feed the Feline: successful.”

“Good. He likes you. That’s rare.”

“I think he just likes the treats I brought. Spoiled little guy.”

“Good instincts,” Hattie says, then pauses. “And the shop?”

“All still standing. Till’s balanced, shelves are very… alphabetically correct. I’m under strict management.”

“You met her, then.”

He smiles faintly, glancing around the soft glow of Hattie’s kitchen. “Yeah. I did.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hattie says knowingly. “I figured you two would get on.”

He leans against the counter, tone softer. “She’s smart. And funny. She cares, you know? About the little things.”

Another pause.

“You’ll be good for each other,” Hattie says, like it’s already decided.

Lando doesn’t argue.

Instead, he rubs the back of his neck, glancing down at the sleepy cat weaving around his ankles. He knows better than to push back when Hattie gets that tone—like she’s already written the ending and he’s just catching up to the plot.

“I’ll check in on you tomorrow,” he says.

“You better,” she replies. “And don’t forget the nightlight in the hallway. The cat hates the dark.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He hangs up with a quiet smile and pockets his phone. The kitchen hums with silence again, familiar and gentle. He gives the cat one last chin scratch, flips off the lights, and locks up behind him.

His own flat is only a few doors down, but the walk feels a little longer tonight. Not in a bad way—just in that sort of floaty, stretched-out way that happens when your head is too full of someone to move quickly.

He tosses his keys in the bowl by the door, shrugs off his hoodie, and catches his reflection in the hall mirror. There’s a stupid grin tugging at his mouth he hadn’t even realized was there.

Yeah.

He really did like her.

As soon as you stumble into your flat, you call Hattie.

She answers after two rings, voice soft and familiar. “Hello, love.”

Your chest loosens a little just hearing her. “Hattie—hi. I just heard from… well, from Lando. Are you okay? He said you had surgery—why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m alright,” she says, calm and reassuring. “Bit stiff and grumbly, but the doctor says I’m healing just fine. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. I knew you’d call when you heard.”

You tuck the blanket tighter around yourself, heart still thumping. “Still. You could’ve told me. I would've brought you tea. Or snacks. Or company.”

“You still can,” she chuckles. “I wouldn’t say no to a bit of gossip and a packet of bourbons.”

You smile. “I’ll stop by.”

A beat of comfortable silence passes, then her voice softens even more. “So… how was your shift?”

You hesitate. “…It was good.”

“Mmm.” She sounds like she already knows. “You and Lando got on, then?”

You exhale, trying not to grin. “Yeah. He’s… easy to talk to.”

“I thought you might like him,” she says gently. “I’ve known that boy his whole life. He’s a good one. Always has been. Heart right on his sleeve, even when he tries to act cool.”

You smile into the phone, warmth settling in your chest. “He told me about your cat's royal meal schedule.”

Hattie huffs. “As he should. That cat has standards.”

You laugh. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“And I’m glad you’re getting to know him. It’s nice, isn’t it? Sharing a quiet space with someone who just… fits.”

You glance out the window, “Yeah. It is.”

The bell above the shop door jingles softly as you flip the sign to CLOSED, the last streaks of sunset stretching lazy across the floor tiles. Lando’s just finished sweeping behind the counter, a few rogue crumbs from someone’s snack run catching the light.

It’s been a few days since your last shift—enough time to miss the quiet rhythm of the place, and maybe the company too.

“Not bad today,” you say, dropping the till’s final count into the logbook.

“Record low for crisp-related crimes,” he teases, hanging up the broom. “You didn’t yell at me once.”

You smirk. “Because you actually put them in the right spot.”

“Growth,” he says, mock serious.

You both laugh, the kind that lingers a little too long.

He grabs his jacket from the hook by the back door and pauses, keys in one hand.

“I’ve got to swing by and feed the cat,” he says, casual, but there’s a slight hitch in his voice. “Then I was gonna pop in to see Hattie for a bit. If you’re not in a rush, you could… come with?”

You blink.

“Oh—I mean, yeah. If that’s okay with her?”

He nods quickly. “She’d love it. She’s asked about you, like, five times already this week.”

That makes you smile, heart warming at the thought. “Well then. I guess I should show my face.”

He grins, stepping aside and holding the door open with an exaggerated little bow. “After you.”

The air outside is cool but not cold, dusk settling low over the street in a kind of lavender hush. You rub your arms lightly through the thin fabric of your shirt, not shivering exactly, but definitely wishing you'd brought a jacket.

Lando notices.

Without a word, he tugs his hoodie over his head and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “You’ll get cold.”

You blink. “What about you?”

“I’m warm-blooded,” he grins. “Or maybe just too stubborn to admit I’m freezing.”

You hesitate for half a second before sliding it on. It smells faintly like laundry detergent and something sharp and warm—maybe cologne, maybe just him. The sleeves are long, your fingers disappearing in the cuffs.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“Looks better on you anyway,” he says, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

You glance over at him, heart thudding a little too loudly in your chest. “Charmer.”

He shrugs, smirking. “Just telling the truth.”

You walk in silence for a beat, the kind of quiet that feels full instead of awkward.

“Crazy how different the shop feels in the evening,” you say, glancing back once as the windows fade into shadows. “Like it’s got a bedtime.”

Lando chuckles. “Honestly? Same. I swear even the crisps get quieter.”

You roll your eyes, but it makes you smile.

It’s quiet for a minute. Comfortable.

“She’ll be happy to see you,” he says after a while, glancing sideways at you.

“I hope so. I didn’t mean to stay away—I just didn’t want to crowd her.”

“You wouldn’t,” he says simply. “She lights up when talking about you. She said you bring good energy.”

Your cheeks flush. “That’s… really nice of her.”

He nudges your shoulder gently with his. “She’s got a good radar.”

You glance at him. “And what does her radar say about you?”

He grins, all teeth. “Oh, I’m a lost cause. But I feed the cat, so she keeps me around.”

You laugh, the sound light between the trees as you turn the corner. The street grows quieter, just a few porch lights flickering on, windows glowing warm behind lace curtains.

“She really means a lot to you,” you say softly.

He nods. “Yeah. She’s always been around, you know? Like… my backup grown-up.”

You smile at that. It’s such a him thing to say.

A few more steps, and he points just ahead. “That one. The one with the overgrown lavender.”

You spot it—cozy brick, chipped white trim, and a lazy cat curled up in the front window like it owns the place.

Lando slides his key into the lock and glances at you over his shoulder. “Just a heads-up,” he says, pushing the door open with a soft creak. “The cat… he’s a bit of a menace. Hisses at pretty much everyone—including me sometimes.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Good to know.”

He grins, flicking on the light in the narrow hallway. “Just, you know… don’t make direct eye contact or move too fast. Basically act like he’s royalty and you’re trespassing.”

“Sounds delightful.”

Inside, the house is exactly what you expected and nothing like it at all. Warm-toned wallpaper with faded roses, a crooked coat rack by the door, shelves crowded with books and tiny, mismatched trinkets—ceramic hedgehogs, a faded snow globe, old postcards tacked above the radiator. It smells faintly of cinnamon and lavender and something soft, like the kind of home that’s lived in and loved.

Your fingers brush a little framed photo on a side table—Hattie and a man you assume was her late husband, arms around each other, beaming. There’s a pressed flower behind the glass.

You barely have time to take it all in before the soft thump of paws sounds behind you.

The cat emerges from around the corner—long-haired, ginger and white, with a perpetually unimpressed face and the slow, deliberate gait of someone who knows they own the place.

He pauses when he sees you.

Tilts his head, whiskers twitching.

Then, to Lando’s visible surprise, he pads right past him, curls around your legs, and starts purring—loudly—rubbing his head against your calves like you’re his long-lost favorite human.

You blink. “I thought you said he hates people.”

Lando just stares. “He does.”

The cat flops onto your foot with a dramatic sigh.

Lando exhales, baffled. “Well… apparently he likes you.”

You glance down, smiling softly. “He has good taste.”

Lando gently lifts the sleepy cat off your foot and sets him down with a soft “Alright, your royal highness.” The cat flicks his tail like it’s the final decree of the evening and disappears down the hallway.

You both exchange a look—the kind that says, well, that went better than expected.

“I think he’s taken a liking to you,” Lando says with a grin.

“Clearly, I’m just more charming,” you reply, sliding your hands into the pockets of the hoodie.

Lando grabs his keys from the bowl by the door. “Shall we?”

Outside, the cool night air greets you again as you lock the door behind you. Lando’s car is just a few steps down the street—a battered little hatchback with a faded bumper sticker proclaiming something about the London Underground.

He opens the passenger door for you with a flourish that’s half teasing, half genuinely polite. You slide in, the seat cool beneath you.

Lando starts the engine, and the soft rumble fills the car. “Hospital run?”

“Yeah,” you nod, turning to watch the streetlights blur as he pulls away.

Lando’s hand drifts to the stereo, flipping it on to some quiet indie playlist.

The drive is smooth but quiet, the city’s evening rush slowly fading behind you as you turn onto smaller roads.

“So,” you say after a few minutes, “I thought we could grab something for her. Flowers maybe?”

Lando nods without hesitation. “Already on my mental list. There’s a little florist on the way, just about to close, but I’m sure we can charm them.”

You laugh softly. “You’re good at that, huh?”

“Charm and biscuits,” he replies with a grin. “Two universal keys.”

The florist’s shop is tucked between a boarded-up pub and a late-night café, its window glowing softly. A woman inside is just gathering up bouquets and humming softly, clearly preparing to close.

Lando kills the engine, and you both step out, the crisp night wrapping around you.

“Sorry, we’re a little late,” Lando calls gently through the door, pushing it open with a bell chime.

The florist looks up, wiping her hands on a towel. “Almost closing, but you’re lucky—just finishing up. What can I help with?”

You step forward. “Something bright and cheerful. Maybe some daisies? Hattie loves them.”

The florist smiles. “Daisies are good. Got a lovely bunch just cut this morning.”

She pulls the flowers free and wraps them quickly but carefully in brown paper, tying it with a faded pink ribbon.

Lando hands over a few coins. “Thanks, really appreciate it.”

You take the bouquet, inhaling the fresh scent of earth and petals.

“Perfect,” you say softly, smiling at Lando.

He catches your eye and shrugs. “Teamwork.”

Back in the car, the scent of flowers fills the space, mixing with the faint smell of rain-dampened streets.

“Ready?” Lando asks as he pulls away.

You nod, cradling the bouquet gently on your lap.

“Let’s go.”

The hospital’s sliding doors hiss open as you and Lando step inside, the scent of antiseptic mixing oddly with the fresh bouquet resting gently on your lap. Lando carries the flowers carefully as you both walk briskly down the quiet hallway to Hattie’s room.

When Lando knocks softly and pushes the door open, you peek in first.

Hattie looks up from her bed, eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh! You’re here?” Her voice is bright, disbelief mixed with pure happiness. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

You smile warmly, stepping forward. “Thought I’d drop by. You sounded like you could use some company.”

She beams, sitting up a little straighter despite the obvious stiffness. You cross the room and wrap her in a careful but heartfelt hug. She squeezes you back, soft and grateful.

“I’m so glad you came,” she murmurs into your shoulder. “It’s been a long few days.”

You pull back, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. “How are you feeling? Really?”

She sighs, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Better now. It’s the boredom that’s the worst. The stitches are healing fine, and the nurses are angels. But being stuck here… it’s not me.”

You glance over to Lando, who’s quietly placing the bouquet of daisies on the bedside table. The flowers brighten the room instantly.

“We brought these for you,” you say softly.

Her face lights up, eyes crinkling with genuine joy. “Daisies! My favourite.”

Hattie’s gaze flickers to you, then to the hoodie draped over your shoulders. She raises her brows in amused recognition but doesn’t say a word.

Lando leans casually against the wall, grinning. “I told her she’d look better in it.”

Hattie chuckles, then turns back to you both. “You two make such a cute couple.”

You and Lando exchange a glance, cheeks warming just a little.

“Stop it,” you say, but your smile betrays you.

Hattie winks, then reaches out to squeeze your hand. “I’m really glad you came. It means a lot.”

You settle into the chair beside her bed, the three of you falling into a comfortable rhythm of easy conversation and quiet support, the hospital room suddenly feeling a little more like home.

You stayed with Lando in Hattie’s room for another hour, the three of you talking, laughing softly, and just being there. The nurses eventually came by with gentle but firm reminders.

“Alright, lovebirds,” one said with a teasing smile, “it’s past visiting hours. Time to let Hattie rest.”

You groaned dramatically but smiled, knowing they were right. You promised to come back in a few days, waving goodbye as you left the hospital.

Outside, the cool evening air wrapped around you as you started pulling off the hoodie.

Lando’s brow furrowed with a hint of amusement. “What are you doing?”

Your cheeks flushed a little, fingers fumbling with the fabric. “Uhm, I thought… because I’m going home, you know…”

He stepped a little closer, eyes soft. “Oh, I can drive you. That’s probably way easier, right?”

You hesitated just a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, probably. Thank you.”

You started walking toward his car, the streetlights casting long shadows as the quiet night settled.

Lando’s grin widened, voice bright with teasing warmth, “Also, we wouldn’t make a couple that’s this cute if you weren’t wearing the hoodie, you know.”

You stopped, cheeks flushing again, heart skipping. You glanced back at him, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

The car’s engine hummed softly as Lando drove through the quiet streets, the city lights blurring past the windows. You watched the familiar houses slip by, your fingers nervously twisting the edge of the hoodie. It smelled like him—warm and safe—and you didn’t want to let go just yet.

When you finally pulled up outside your flat, the silence between you suddenly felt heavier, like the air had thickened with something unspoken.

Neither of you moved to get out right away.

You sat there, heart pounding, cheeks warm, stealing quick glances at Lando as he stared down at the steering wheel. He seemed just as nervous as you felt—usually so confident, now fidgeting with the car keys in his hands.

Then, suddenly, his usual easy smile faltered. He cleared his throat, voice a little shaky.

“Uh—so, um… maybe you’d like to go out with me sometime? Like, you know… a date?”

Your breath caught. You wanted to say yes, so badly, but the words tangled up in your mind.

“Uhm,” you stammered, voice soft and uncertain. “I don’t know if I have time… with uni and the shop and—”

He held up a hand quickly, cheeks coloring. “Yeah, no, I get it totally. I was just… thinking maybe at some point. You know, that’s totally cool.”

Your heart thudded painfully, warm and fluttery all at once. You wanted him to know that you did want that — maybe more than anything — but you weren’t sure how to say it.

There was a pause, the kind that feels like the whole world is holding its breath.

You gave a small, shy smile, and he smiled back, all awkward charm.

“Well… yeah. We’ll see.”

Neither of you quite knew what to do next, so you leaned forward and hugged him—a hug that was awkward and hesitant, but full of promise. His arms wrapped around you just as carefully, as if you were something fragile and precious.

“Goodnight, Lando,” you murmured.

“Goodnight, Not Actually Called Sorry.”

You both laughed softly, the tension breaking as you climbed out of the car, the promise of something new shimmering quietly between you.

As you shut the door behind you, you caught a final glance through the window—Lando sitting there, watching you go with that same goofy, shy grin. You smiled to yourself, heart lighter than it had been all day.

A few days later at your next shift, you push open the door to the shop and immediately notice something’s off. The lights are dim, casting long shadows across the shelves. The sign on the door reads CLOSED—but the door itself swings open without resistance.

Your brow furrows as you step inside, calling softly, “Lando?”

A faint shuffle echoes from the back of the store, followed by the unmistakable sound of something tumbling over and a quiet, frustrated “fuck.”

“Just one second, don’t come in yet,” Lando’s voice calls out, tense but hurried.

Curiosity wins over caution. You slip past some shelves, careful not to knock anything over. As you pass the gummies, you spot him.

Behind the counter, Lando’s set up something unusual—a makeshift table formed from a couple of chairs and some paper boxes draped with what looks more like a curtain than a proper tablecloth. He’s crouched down, fiddling with a lighter that stubbornly refuses to spark a flame on the candle sitting on the makeshift table.

Half smiling, half impressed, you clear your throat. “What exactly are you doing here?”

Lando nearly jumps, clearly startled that you’d caught him mid-prep. His hand jerks a little, almost dropping the lighter again. He looks up at you with wide eyes, cheeks already tinted pink.

“Uh—well…” He scratches the back of his neck, then gestures vaguely at the awkward little setup behind him. “Since you, um, don’t really have time for a date outside of uni and work, I thought... I’d just make it a date within this time. So you don’t have to worry. About time. Or anything.”

His words tumble out in a rush, every syllable uncertain. He fidgets with the corner of the curtain-slash-tablecloth, avoiding your eyes.

You blink, thrown for a second. “Wait. This is a—”

“A date,” he says quickly, then immediately backtracks. “Well—not like officially, unless you want it to be. It could also just be a very sad break room with... ambience.”

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, the whole thing both ridiculous and incredibly sweet.

He looks up then, gauging your reaction. “I didn’t want to pressure you or anything. I just thought, maybe this way it’d be easier. No plans to move around, no stress. Just... you and me. And some slightly expired gummy bears.”

You take another step closer, the light of the single candle flickering between you.

“Lando,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips, “this is possibly the nerdiest, most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done.”

He gives a lopsided, sheepish grin. “I’ll take that as a win?”

You nod, eyes softening. “Definitely a win.”

There’s a moment of silence between you, gentle and warm.

Then you glance down at the little ‘table.’ “So... are we sitting on folding chairs and pretending this is a fancy restaurant now?”

Lando brightens immediately. “Yes. And you’ll be thrilled to know our tasting menu includes one packet of sour worms, a slightly crushed bag of kettle chips, and our personal favorite—Kinder chocolate.”

You chuckle, finally walking around the counter and settling into the chair he’d set up. “You really know how to treat a girl.”

He sits opposite you, finally relaxing, candlelight dancing in his eyes. “Only the best.”

You settle into the chair, the edge of the box-table wobbling slightly under the weight of a shared chip bag and two mismatched mugs that definitely weren’t made for anything fancier than employee tea breaks.

Lando leans back in his chair, leg bouncing ever so slightly, like he’s trying to play it cool but can’t quite stop the nervous energy radiating off him. You can feel it too, like something charged hanging quietly between you.

“So,” he starts, fingers drumming lightly on the box. “Tell me about... your most controversial candy opinion.”

You laugh. “That’s your date opening question?”

He grins. “Absolutely. It’s a high-stakes environment.”

You consider, tapping your chin in mock thought. “Okay. I think marshmallows are overrated. Even in hot chocolate. There, I said it.”

Lando’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Take it back. You’ve just ruined winter.”

“Nope. Spongy sugar clouds? No thank you.”

He shakes his head. “Unbelievable. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

You both laugh, the tension easing just a little. It’s easy, being around him even in the most absurd setting. But the quiet that follows isn’t uncomfortable. It just... shifts. Deepens.

After a beat, Lando fiddles with the corner of a napkin, then glances up.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod slowly. “Sure.”

“Have you, uh… been thinking about... that night?” He clears his throat. “The car. The drive. What I said.”

Your heart stutters, cheeks already warm again. You look down at your mug, then back at him. “Yeah. I have.”

Lando leans forward a bit, voice softer now. “I didn’t want to make it weird. I just—sometimes I say stuff and then immediately think ‘wow, that could’ve been way cooler.’”

You give a nervous smile. “You were kind of charming in a very... chaotic way.”

He lets out a laugh, visibly relieved. “That might be the nicest way anyone’s ever said ‘awkward.’”

You look at him for a moment, then say quietly, “I wanted to say yes.”

He straightens a little, eyes on you. “To going out with me?”

You nod, then shrug. “I just… didn’t know how to balance everything. Still don’t, really. But I like being around you.”

A quiet beat passes.

“I like being around you too,” Lando says. “Like... a lot.”

You both break eye contact at the same time, glancing away, smiling to yourselves.

Then, like he can’t help himself, Lando blurts, “Okay but seriously—if you ever badmouth marshmallows again I might have to reconsider everything.”

You throw a chip at him.

He catches it, grinning. “See? Already such a violent relationship.”

You shake your head, trying not to laugh too hard. “God, you’re annoying.”

“Admit it. You’re impressed.”

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it. And in that little bubble of store lights and flickering candle, with a mostly-stale chip bag between you, things feel good. Honest. A little messy. But good.

Maybe this wasn’t the date you expected.

But it feels like one that matters.

tag list

@mara1999 @random-movie

[livelaughlovebeinggod]

This post is for the people who are procrastinating on applying the law or for those who need a wake up call. ‼️

what if you had never found the law?

Or let's say there's a parallel reality where you never stumbled upon the law of assumption. That you with the same circumstances but without the knowledge of the law, how would they have felt? For many, it would feel like their horrible reality would never change, how helpless they must be feeling, thinking about all the hardwork they need to do in order to achieve something, thinking that there's no shortcut to life and they've to do far more than just lifting a finger, they've to chase after life relentlessly just to live their dreams and the list goes on...all this just because they're limited in their mind, they're not aware of just how powerful their mind and their assumptions are, just because they're not aware that they can have absolutely anything and everything just by assuming they have it. They would have lived their entire life feeling like they've no control over their life, having that hope that maybe one day it would all change but unfortunately it never does. You come to your last stage of life with nothing but regrets because you wanted to do so many things but either didn't have the time or you just didn't have the courage to "take action" on them.

Seems horrifying? It is.

Now let's flip the script!

GOOD NEWS!

YOUR LIFE IS NOT THE WAY I DESCRIBED ABOVE.

You're blessed and lucky enough to have the knowledge about the law of assumption. I would have certainly felt helpless and hopeless if i didn't know about the law of assumption with my circumstances, i would've felt like giving up but this is not the case, I know about the law, i know it IS possible to have the life of my dreams and more, oh how blessed i am. Then why the hell am i procrastinating on doing the bare minimum?! imagine the things you would have to do in order to achieve those dreams if you didn't know about the law? Damn I'm exhausted even thinking about it! But guess what? With the law, u know all you have to do is just assume it's already done and persist! You don't have to even lift a finger let alone doing anything more than that. It's this easy.

Just think about it.

It's that easy so why are you procrastinating or why are you not taking accountability and changing your life? YOU LITERALLY CANNOT BE MORE BLESSED THAN THIS. Like imagine getting whatever you want with just your assumptions?! Even a fairytale falls short of what cheat code we know now. You're not realising just HOW FREAKING LUCKY AND POWERFUL YOU ARE.

This is not just a post to motivate you, this is a WAKE UP CALL, I'm calling you out rn and telling you to end this cycle, NOW. I need you to step aside from ur phone or Tumblr after you've read this post and just think about it, what are you doing? You could be living ur dream life by now if u had just applied the law and stayed consistent with it but here you are, consuming more loa content as if it's all not just the same information you've read a hundred times. The law is simple, too simple actually.

DECIDE YOU HAVE IT & PERSIST. THAT'S IT.

There's no other magical information out there, you WILL NOT get your desires if you don't apply the law. It cannot get easier than this. There are people who don't have ANY idea about the law, they're living a limited life, but you? You know about the thing people would sell their souls just to find out about it, and here you are still procrastinating as if you don't actually hold the power of the whole universe inside your mind and all you need is a decision and commitment to that decision.

It's either you decide to CHANGE YOUR LIFE AND FINALLY END THIS CYCLE or GET THIS LOOP GOING FOREVER. It's upto you. No one's coming to save you and it doesn't have to be scary, no one's coming to save you because you're enough to save yourself. You've all the power you'll ever need. Stop doubting your power. Actually applying the law and being consistent is scary and hard because your mind is too familiar living in hell that even heaven starts to feel uncomfortable but trust me, once you come out of that comfort bubble, you'll see that you were living in a tunnel all your life when there was a whole universe outside waiting for you to come out.

You can do it. Now, GO DO IT.

[nouearth]

feel the rush.

tom holland x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. rushing a fraternity is highly-competitive, and all-so overwhelming. if it was up to you, you wouldn't have participated in the first place. fortunately, tom was here to provide you all of the shortcuts in receiving a bid to the greek life, as long as you did a bang-up job.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 5.5k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 college!au 〳 frat!tom 〳brief alcoholic drinking 〳 closeted!reader 〳 reader is kinda religious coded 〳 sexual content: top!tom, bottom!reader, breeding, kissing, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), humiliation, dirty talk, muscle worship, scent!kink.

“You know you’re not exactly dressed for the occasion, right?”

The door closed behind Tom, sectioning you off from the party. The atmosphere of the event was tangible regardless. Strong beats throttled from wall to wall, tremors from a familiar song tickling your feet. Chants, albeit muffled, were resonant as you could only presume that someone executed a keg stand for the nth time of the night.

Chug, chug, chug, chug, and the crowd roared as if downing a keg of beer prevented Earth from being infiltrated by extraterrestrials. Granted, that was within the best scenario, in which alcohol and everything loud and deafening like university students wanting to fit in were highly toxic to those devious space invaders.

“What—how do you mean? Rushing is pretty formal, isn’t it? That’s what my mom tells me, anyway.”

You felt small from Tom’s comment, taking a peek at yourself in his mirror and shamefully finding nothing out of the ordinary with your white dress shirt, polka-dotted tie, and khaki pants. Though, you had to be honest. It wasn’t a fair assessment, considering you were judging under the purple hue of his dim lights. The compact size of his room certainly didn’t help either.

“Yes and no. Obviously, you don’t want to look like a slob. But you also don’t want to stand out too much. You’re not going to be a Greek if you wear Ralph Lauren from head to toe—that’s obnoxious. It looks like your mum dressed you for the Lord’s Supper or someone’s granddad, which is frankly the worst offender: don’t look like a square.”

“These are all I have—duly noted—so, it’s okay to dress… like you then? Won’t I blend in with everyone else?”

Tom wore a snapback, a blue polo, and white cargo shorts—which was brazen of him considering the amount of drinking and bile you had seen before the party had even began. It was simple to replicate. If it was your mother’s judgement, she would have all the men and women cover up their legs and arms, while embarrassingly leaving you as the prime example of what a gentleman should dress like.

But your mother wasn’t here, was she? Which meant, you could enjoy the holy sight of Tom’s biceps threatening to burst his shirt at the sleeve, his bulky chest at the placket—all for a little while longer before your intuition stepped in at the call of your mother, and forced those thoughts to scurry off.

That was ungentlemanly.

“That’s the point. You blend in, which means you put in the extra effort to get you noticed by the brothers—by us. Outfit aside, I reckon you’re off to a mighty start. Could be a pledge if you keep this up. I’m certainly noticing you,” Tom muttered after taking a sip of his beer, backing you with small, but imposing steps, until your ankles knocked against the footer of his bed, making you fall back. “Here, loosen up.”

He handed you his beer can.

“I don’t—“

“Just a sip to get in the mood. Not asking you to get blackout drunk here, Christ.”

“Sorry, mama.” You tipped the can into your mouth and instantly, the first taste of lager made you grimace, your face and body shriveling up like the bitter bubbles in the back of your throat. “That’s not… pleasant.”

“You get used to it.”

You were an easy target, weren’t you?

All you had to do was lurk around the party like a lost puppy, head and shoulders down as if the entire objecting of rushing was the complete opposite of being noticeable, and then Tom came around to your aid. He flashed that confident, gorgeous smile of his, immediately knowing you’d do anything to receive a bid from anyone at Alpha Kappa Psi, to be a pledge, without ever doing the hard-work of politely boasting about yourself to complete strangers.

Using your body was easier.

“You’ve done this before?” Tom took the can out of your hand and set it on his desk. He joined you at the foot of the bed after, his thigh touching yours. Then his hand on your knee, rubbing to simultaneously appease those nervous twiddling fingers of yours, and to warm you up.

“Yes—but don’t tell my mom, all right? She doesn’t know that I’m—Just… a couple of hook-ups back at home. Nothing much.” You nervously laughed to fill the silence, watching Tom’s hand warm your knee in gentle strokes that seem to ascend closer to your thigh with every cycle.

He stopped at your inner thigh. “I don’t plan on it unless you do a bad job. And/or your ass somehow rips my dick off and I need someone to take accountability for your actions.”

Your body straightened when Tom began kneading at your tender skin. “Not funny, I mean it.”

“Relax, I’m not telling your mom. It’ll be fun…” With one smooth motion, Tom turned his snapback around, the visor facing the back, and his mouth lowered to the shell of your ear. “And if I can be honest…? It turns me on knowing you’re hiding such a dirty secret from your poor mother.”

There was a shuffling, and then a firm grip on your nape that made your breath hitch. Before your instincts to pull away could react, Tom drew you in for a pressing kiss.

You breathed in, sucking the taste of liquor into your lungs, and trailed after the sweep of his lips. His nose smashed against yours, you could practically hear him inhaling you, and you barely got a sound out before your lips were pushed apart with Tom’s wet tongue. He tasted of familiar lager, yet certainly much more appetizing than drinking from the source itself as you pressed closer to him, welcoming him into your mouth with messy licks to the slithering muscle.

“Mm…”

Electricity shot up your spine when his tongue began properly mingling with yours. Sparks ricocheted off your cranium, then back down to your toes, where they flexed and brought the rest of your legs onto Tom’s bed. Heat flushed through your veins, the kiss all-consuming like Tom had needed your moans to survive. He drew you in closer, holding you close, exploring your mouth with his. You let out small whimpers and pressed into him, drowning yourself in his groans as your hand experimented with desperate tugs and kneads to his growing erection. He licked and nipped at your lips in revenge, countering your touch with a much more brazen hand down your khakis and briefs, toying with your bare chub in his palm.

“Had my eyes on you since you walked through that door,” Tom’s breath spilled over your neck, kissing at the stretch of skin in between the seconds of stripping your clothes off and his after. “You stuck out like a sore thumb. Have no idea why you thought you even had a chance, but then I thought about it for longer, watching you stick to the walls, observing everyone, drinking our punch. I knew you weren’t as innocent as you looked.”

You were lost in this sanity. Your lips were swollen and nearly numb from use, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. They tingled in all the right ways, sending signals to your exposed cock, throbbing out in the open air after many clumsy movements of shimmying yourself out of your pants and briefs.

You helped Tom with his clothes, fingers swiping across his muscular back when you pulled off his polo, palms brushing over his toned thighs when it came to undoing his shorts. Surprisingly, no briefs to remove after, which made you even harder, even when you were nearly assaulted in the face with the spring of his erection.

All of Tom was impressive, especially his hard, thick cock.

“Mom told me to make some friends—“

When Tom returned his grasp onto your nape and pushed your head toward his groin, you lost all semblance of self-control. He held you close enough to smell his cock, but far enough to deprive you the pleasure of having him in your mouth. He smelled salty, something of sweat that made your nostrils flare for more, so you pushed your head. You sniffed, lowering yourself until your nose was buried into his heavy balls, and inhaled your curiosities.

The aroma of Tom’s musk was familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. It was intoxicating. The scent was strong and pure when you pressed in. It was here, a pungent assault to your nose when you took another indulgent breath of his sweaty balls, and your senses went haywire when Tom’s fingers dug into your nape, scraping sweet lines of fire across the nape of your neck, and pulled you over his leaking cock.

Your inability to control yourself was as much of an arousal for Tom, judging by how his cock was twitching with every breath you took to fight off the urge in gulping him down.

“Wow, you really are a momma’s boy, aren’t you? Bet you have her constantly in your mind, telling you what’s right from wrong, don’t you? Tell me, what’s she saying while you’re sucking me off?”

“I don’t know what—mmf!”

Just like that, your mouth was full of Tom’s smell, full of him, god. Your eyes snapped shut and you choked down a moan as you took his thick cock into your mouth at the help of Tom’s bruising grip. One hand braced on his toned and flexed thigh while the other was wrapped around his shaft, holding him steady in your mouth. Your lips wrapped snug around him, hallowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue over veins—multiple veins that were the source of his pre-cum leaking into your mouth like a broken faucet.

Salt spread on your tongue, wakening every taste bud to an early bloom as you squeezed and stroked him at the base, forcing out more drips of pre-cum onto your tongue.

“Fuck, your mouth’s so warm…” His eyes widened at the warm and wet embrace of your tongue slobbering over his cock, groaning at the obscene sounds of your saliva spit-shining his shaft as he was leaning on his elbows. “God, look at you.”

“I’m doing okay…?” You gasped after pulling his cock out of your mouth, spitting out the thick, droopy web of saliva that connected your lips to Tom’s shaft back over the plump, swollen glans. You looked up at him for approval, wide-eyed and dazed, recovering from the stretch Tom had provided your mouth seconds prior.

When you needed a breather, you licked at the underside of his cock, tending to the inches you couldn’t possibly fit inside of your mouth with multiple tantalizing strokes of your hand. You spread your spit thick over his hard flesh, massaging every spit bubble until his cock and balls were moisturized with the slick of your mouth.

“Better than I could imagine, honestly…” Tom marveled with a chuckle, exhaling slow and deep from his gut to seemingly keep himself from spilling too early from your unrelenting strokes. His toes wiggled in his socks, a tic you found yourself simpering about because it was rather the opposite of Tom’s imposing demeanor.

He pressed two fingers against his own tongue, slicking it up with spit, before shoving them into your mouth to get a second opinion on your cock-sucking skills. Tom hummed, his hand removed from your nape to hold your chin up while he watched you take his fingers, pumping them in and out of your tight, sucking lips.

He seemed pleased.

Somehow, it was more intimate sucking his fingers off. Tom was staring. He had always been, which made you nervous since he introduced himself to you. But he was staring, as if he could control your every move with a simple look, as if he was capable of communicating with you without uttering a word. His lips parted, his brow raised, and you quickly caught on to reflect upon his wishes, diligently opening your lips to welcome a third slicked up finger into your mouth.

Right then and there, you figured Tom had taken your brain cells hostage and forged them to work in his favor. Whatever he wanted, you were absolutely pleased to do without a single complaint peeping from your end.

He pulled out embarrassing sounds that would’ve gotten you stoned if your mother ever heard them from your room. His other hand worked on your leaking cock, massaging your testicles and palming the plump tip, because he can—because you let him.

You were Tom’s puppet, and your body was at his disposal.

“See? This is fun, right?”

He slid his fingers out of your mouth ever so-slowly, the dim light catching onto the trail of spit that bridged his fingers and your tongue with a magical glint. They eventually lost their sparkle when Tom was quick to bring his hand to your ass and wet your exposed rim with a finger, circling the flesh at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“M-mm…”

It was pathetic how deprived of touch you were.

Something as simple as a tease made you writhe on all fours. All it took was a lazy stroke of his finger for you to arch your back and draw your ass out. You couldn’t manage more than a moan as Tom guided you flat on your stomach and himself behind you, continuing his taunts after freshly lubing his fingers and throbbing cock.

Upon the next turn, Tom had the generosity of delivering you of a fill that had been making your cock leak into his sheets, that had been making you rock your hips like you were an animal in heat.

After pushing your legs apart, Tom slowly slid one finger inside of you, his mouth opening in rapport, but also in wonder, as your tight hole welcomed his thick digit in with such warmth, your body locking up as pleasure entered your body.

“C-Christ…” you hissed, thighs clenching and ass squeezing around the foreign intrusion. Something like panic, mixed with agonizing, desperate need, froze you in your place, yet you could feel your body melt, beads of sweat forming over the slope of your tense shoulders and back muscles. Every contact point of your body meeting his, from his firm hand kneading your plump ass, to the tender push and pull of his finger, scorched.

“I don’t know, (M/N)… I don’t know if you can take my cock. My finger can barely move. Might have to call it a night…”

The thudding of your heart muffled your ears as Tom pressed in another finger after slowly working you open. Upon instinct, you closed your legs, only for Tom to spread them back apart before your sweaty thighs could meet, keeping yourself exposed and bare under his direction.

You chewed on a whimper, your face pressing into a pillow in your arms while Tom’s two fingers curled and pumped deep inside of you. You felt yourself pulsate around him, the tight ring of muscle unrelenting in its grip around his fingers, but Tom was determined to break you, another digit joining the pair of fingers, demeaning the tightness of your hole with an obnoxious whistle while pushing into your resistance. “Damn, look at that hole… barely fitting in three fingers.”

“N-no, I can take it. Please…” you gasped on an onslaught of curls, fast and repetitive until you were stretched enough for Tom to yank his fingers completely out of you and quickly feel withdrawal symptoms of his fill. Your thighs shook, your ass pushed out for more, your hole twitched in rapport—you murmured a whine that you needed Tom to hear, but was too self-conscious to let it be known, so you settled biting into his pillow to resist your throat from spilling.

“Such a shame. I thought you made the perfect fit for A.K.P., too.”

His touch was soft and exploring, smearing the sweat on your back over the expanse of your ass and covering it in a humiliating sheen that you’d reckon Tom was stroking himself to upon picking up on the lewd, slick sounds of lube sliding over something thick behind you.

“S-stop, stop, please. I-I’ve taken it before, just—give me a chance, yeah? Please? Hear me—feel me out?”

“You’re that desperate, huh? Don’t know if you need the pledge more, or my cock…”

“Your cock… Tom, please—“

“So, you wouldn’t mind if you received nothing in return, as long as my cock was inside of you? Fucking you? Breeding you?”

“No, I just—“

No, no, no. I don’t want you to stop. Please don’t stop. Your ass communicated those pleas in desperate wiggles. A strong smack to your ass cheeks meant to halt you in place, but it only made your hips more fervent as you graciously backed into the thick of Tom’s cock, reaching back and giving him a needy pump or two, then slid him against your crack.

A needy moan escaped when you felt the weight of his cock sandwiched between your cheeks.

“So, you don’t want my cock? I’m confused on what exactly you’re telling me. Hurry, before I lose my patience.”

You felt a stickiness to your rim. Peeking over your shoulder, you took a glimpse of Tom presumably tracing your hole with his cock and spreading his pre-cum thick over the smooth flesh. The small space grew humid with the tension between your body and his, heavy breaths adding onto the heavy air as Tom rocked into you, holding you by the waist, gliding his cock through the wetness of your lubed ass cheeks. His shaft rubbed over your hole, and your cock throbbed and leaked in between your legs at the chance that anytime now—Tom could breach you open, and fill you wondrously. Your hole clenched at the thought, aided by Tom’s hands pressing your cheeks tighter around his cock as it slid over you.

If only you could command your asshole to open, because you would’ve taken him in by now.

“I want you inside of me, Tom. F-forget the pledge, I just—I need something, someone inside of me. Please, just—Christ, fuck me. Fuck me with your thick cock. Fuck your cum into me. Fuck my ass until I’m nothing but a gaping hole dripping with your seed. Don’t even care if we never see each other again, please, Tom—”

Your eagerness took Tom by surprise, making him chuckle and slap his cock over your blinking hole before resuming on sliding his shaft against your crack, hopefully for one last turn. “Who knew you had such a potty mouth?”

You don’t know what drew you back to looking at Tom again. Maybe it was the hard, brawn structure of his body, cut straight from a sculpture of the most heroic Greek warrior. The firm lines of his abdominal muscles, or the way his snapback was adjusted backwards, emphasizing his soft, yet handsome looks. All in all, you didn’t mean what you said.

You would absolutely care if you never saw him again.

He was too good.

His rough hands over your ass, smacking them whenever you would try to angle your hips in a way to fit him in, were too good. His delicate kisses on your neck, back, and shoulders, quelling the tremble of your limbs, were too good. His soft lips, when you and him met halfway until your mouths were exchanging breaths, making the effort of holding yourself still against him excruciating, were too good.

Tom’s lips ghosted over yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You groaned as he supported your core with a strong hand, opening your mouth to take more. Every part of you, even the moisture in your body, wanted to touch him. You were sweating, drooling into his mouth, leaking into Tom’s palm when he wandered down to stroke your cock; all strong indicators that you were losing control, if you hadn’t already.

His voice, as he murmured something about your body in your ear while he was gathering you against him, was too good. His breath forced itself between your lips, breathing out a supply of oxygen into your mouth, into your lungs, to prepare you for the inevitable, and you had never felt so fragile before—especially so, when you found yourself quickly using up Tom’s oxygen when he pushed his cock into you without hesitation, without warning, your body hammered by a thousand needles in the process.

“T-Tom!” you hissed in a breath, but it only made the grip on your hips more strident when his thrust made you collapse back onto all fours. It wouldn’t be surprising if your skin was blemished with bruises the very next day with the way his fingers dug into your flesh.

Tom was generous enough to let you adjust to his size, indulging in the warmth and tightness of your entrance with only the tip of his plump cock despite feeling like he had toppled your backside with all of his body weight. Even then, those minuscule ruts were enough to make you whimper out of agony.

“So fucking tight…”

Tom pulled himself out and spread your ass cheeks apart, marveling and silently wondering to himself how he was going to puzzle himself inside of you. Some spit would surely help. He licked his fingers, then pressed it over your swollen hole, smoothing the skin before pushing the tip back in, having only a tenuous grasp on his self-control.

After the burning mellowed with the help of multiple deep exhales and kisses from Tom, you felt yourself finally unravel the moment he moved his hips. Your fingers raked against his abs as you reached back to pace his hips, palm on his pelvis to keep from completely ruining you. A shiver ran down the length of your spine as Tom smoothed a hand over your back, then kept it at the lower half, pushing deeper into you while he held you still. You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, pleasured yet disoriented by the ample stretch Tom was providing you with. It gutted the fog of arousal, you could feel your hole instinctively pushing his cock out with overwhelmed pulses, but Tom was persistent, driving into you deeper— harder—the moment your body tried to resist him.

“Don’t mind it hard, right?” Tom asked against your ear, gruff in between his slow, yet deep strokes.

“Please,” you whimpered, barely getting the word out before Tom’s hand found its way to your mouth, covering it and holding your head back at the millisecond your answer registered in his brain, giving him the green light to pummel you relentlessly.

Your eyes popped open when Tom soared, bucking his hips wildly into you. Cries of pleasure, your whimpers and moans of being hammered with such overwhelming desire for your body, were muffled into the palm of Tom’s hand. He squeezed your cheeks, loud groans leaving your throat, and your torso arched into the mattress.

The brutal stretch was what you’d been needing. All this pent up sex drive that you had been harboring for so long came exploding out of you like molten lava, scorching your torso and all in effect. Your body was on fire, coupling with Tom’s as sweat dripped from his forehead, and somewhere onto your backside. Your mind emptied out while you hovered in the space between deprived arousal and complete ecstasy, only perfected by Tom’s cockhead screwing into your tight, clamping hole.

“Open,” Tom demanded with a huff, and you did as you were told at the prodding of his fingers. You welcomed him in with the parting of your lips, luring each digit with the curl of your wet tongue. “You like that? You like taking my hard cock like this? Fucking you open until you’re nothing but a hole? God, look at you drooling…”

As Tom pumped inside of you at a steady pace, angling his hips so he stretched you wider, you suckled on his fingers as they remained hooked over your mouth—you were starting to guess that he loved having them sucked, or at least, liked playing with the idea of having himself inside of you in more ways than one.

It was a messy affair. Pools of saliva leaked from either corners of your mouth. The smell of sex was thickening in between the heavy pants that you and Tom would collectively exile. It wouldn’t be long until your body was drenched in sweat, and you’d come to realize that you wouldn’t be alone in that department. Tom had his sweaty arm around your throat, pushing all of his body weight onto you and gutting you open with the deep hammering of his thrusts. His chest rumbled with wild growls as he pounded into you from behind, burying your hole to the root of his shaft, fucking you with the salacious sound of his heavy and musky sack slapping against your sweat-stained taint. You whimpered when his cockhead brushed past that sweet spot of yours, an unfamiliar feeling that you had no doubts in wanting to befriend.

“O-oh, that’s s-so g-good—“ You bit into his forearms, the thick vein pulsing through looking appetizing, and you were glad you did it because—it was like an ‘on’ switch for Tom.

“Taking my cock so well—your mom would be disgusted, wouldn’t she? Knowing her baby boy is taking a man’s cock. Want you to remember this. I don’t care how many cocks you had before me. I want you to remember what my cock feels like, digging deep inside of you. And when I’m done with you, I don’t want you coming home, crying to mommy—because I’ll never be done with you. Once you get your bid, you’re fucking mine.”

This was it.

This was Tom at his peak performance.

And your body was at his mercy.

He pulled out, flipped you over, then hooked your legs over his shoulders before resuming in his relentless rapture.

You stroked yourself to the image before you, a tight fist around your aching cock, squeezing from base to tip, spreading your pre-cum down your already sticky length, while your other hand toyed with your nipples, playing with the perky nubs.

Tom’s muscular body dripped in sweat. His teeth gritted as he struggled to control his volume. Glimpses of the base of his cock would appear when he would pull out, only to be hidden by the trimmed hairs of his pubic hair when he would shove himself back in, veins of his large cock throbbing and basking in your warmth. Hard and strong kisses layered your ankles while Tom’s pecs jiggled with every thrust he made. Even if you weren’t being fucked right now, you could get off to this. You could come right now, to the absolute bliss on Tom’s face as he buried himself deep inside of you, impaling you with his cock, moulding your hole to the shape of his shaft.

It enthralled you knowing how much pleasure your body gave Tom.

The squeaking of the bed roped everything together, gathering all sorts of noises—lewd sounds of sex and delirious desire—like a beautiful symphony. Your moans against his were the choir when Tom came down to kiss you hard on the mouth, sloppy and wet as he explored you open both ways. His tongue curious into your mouth and his thick cock rearranging your guts.

Your hands freely roamed over the expanse of his broad back, clutching and scratching at his back muscles when he curled his hips in a way that made you arch your body off the bed and knocked the breath out of you. God, he was so strong. So buff. You could feel his back muscles move in sync with his hips, flexing and flaring as he sank his cock deep into you. Your body stuttered, your eyes shut tight, tears nearly welling from the utter pleasure, shriveling as Tom would batter your prostate with better precision every time his hips came down on you. You couldn't be bothered to find the proper words to tell Tom how good he was making you feel, so you settled for a mixture of gasps, whimpers, and a daring scratch over the length of his spine.

That was telling enough, right?

Tom growled at the sting overloading his senses when you made your marks, grazing his teeth and lips over the palm of your hand when he reached back to take and hold the culprit of the forming welts before him. You and him shared a gaze, a kiss when he lowered himself and briefly settled on imposing you with strong, but slow and deep thrusts. To catch his breath. To catch yours. You both exchanged breaths, swapped saliva, explored each other's mouths, held each other hands, and the intimacy of it all made it all the more tranquilizing for you.

“Gonna breed that ass of yours. Fuck, it’s perfect for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Have your hole dripping, gaping, and raw? Maybe I’ll get the bros to look at the mess you made. Maybe they’ll want in on it and have a turn at your body, too. It could be your initiation, hm? Could skip the entire process, and be a Greek, as long as you let all of us breed you. How does that sound?”

“Holy, s-shit—“

You pumped your cock, a familiar feeling quickly bubbling to a high from the pit of your stomach, all the way to your swollen nipples, and you knew what awaited you as that sensation wouldn’t falter. Your heart beat ran faster than the effort of caffeine. Even though it was muffled, the rhythmic beats downstairs were still resonant, and you were absolutely outpacing its tempo. The heat of Tom’s hands returned on your body. He caressed and rubbed your hips, thighs, chest, balls, and ass, all while he urged you to come.

“There we go. Good boy. Keep fucking that fist. Yeah, fuck—“

His palms smoothed over your skin, up the sides of your body, thumbs pressing into either sides of your hips, then maneuvered you with his strength to meet him half-way into his strong thrusts. His biceps flexed, thick veins demonstrating his rush of adrenaline and sheer strength as he brought you down onto his cock with thundering claps, sweaty skin contacting sweaty skin, constantly assaulting your prostate with his swollen cockhead.

It both frightened and thrilled you, your eyes blown, and you felt yourself quickly spill, thick and heavy over your stomach, knowing you were at Tom’s disposal. You shuddered, watching the thick ropes of cum fly high before splattering and soon pooling at the plane of your body.

“I’m close—“

“Come inside of me, please–“

You were panting as your cock finished spilling itself all over your stomach and chest, as Tom’s big cock pounded in and out of you with such ease now, the weight of his hips coming down on you making you continuously bounce on the mattress.

“Fuck.”

His breathing was even heavier than yours, laced with grunts as he used your ass like a toy, pulling hard and pushing you as he pleased, breaching you with the thick of his cock. His thrusts become wilder, sweat dampening his snapback as Tom mustered up the rest of his strength and energy to completely overpower you. His swollen cock dug deep, you could feel every veins about to burst. With a choke of your name, he delivered one more grandiose rut against your ass, the impact of his hips biting sharp into the back of your thighs, and filled you with his cum, burying you to the root.

“Holy shit…”

“O-oh, god—“

Warmth spread thick inside of you, and you writhed and groaned as your hole swallowed another fat fill. Tom’s body goes slack, crashing into your arms immediately, and he moaned on each slow thrust, creaming you from the inside and out. You strained toward him in desperation, wrapping your legs around his hips to lock him in place, and reaching over to his ass to push him deeper, to urge him to keep breeding you as your hole held Tom’s sensitive cock with gratitude, taking his thick seed without hesitation, until his cock veins stopped pulsating.

As promised, Tom kept you impaled, rocking his hips and kissing you once more, soft and passionate, something of him owing you one laced in the way he smooched your lips and refused to let you reciprocate—because Tom never came like that before. His hand was tender on your cheek, stroking the dried stain of drool that was left abandoned when he pulled away to look at you, properly this time. You sighed, brushing the snapback off his head to let his scalp breathe, and pulled him in at the introduction of a sudden draft, your legs still anchored by his hips.

You lay intertwined, sharing deep kisses in between moments of recovery, where the post-nut clarity rendered you and Tom into fit of collective shy laughter, incredulous to the affair both of you had just engaged in.

“So, you live on campus?”

“Oh—yeah. East side, near Turing…”

“Figured you’d be a science guy. Anyways, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Give me your phone.”

“Pick me up? For what?”

“Christ. Did I fuck the memory out of you or something? Bid day’s tomorrow. It gets hectic, so I think it’ll be better if you stick with me.”

“Won’t that… be suspicious?”

“Nah. Plus, I figured we’d get an early start on your initiation…”

“You mean—“

“Fuck, yeah.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!