Oneshots by worldoftom [t.h. x female]

Pretty Little Kitten [uni au] *

Summary: Uni AU. (Future Poly AU.) Nothing, no party, no one could ever make you feel as puzzled and excited and horny as the football team. Their captain has the doe-est eyes, the fluffiest curls, and the yummiest lover on campus. You meet them by chance, but what follows can only be dictated by you ;

Words: 7k

Warnings: sub!Tom x dom!reader x dom!Harrison ; implied polyamorous ; smut including t.h x h.o: Dom/sub play, degradation, oral (fem receiving), mxf intercourse, a couple of smacks ;

^ㅇᴥㅇ^

University rocks.

It's not that you always loved to burn your eyelashes or to live by your books, but you never really hated it either. Learning was fun and it made you feel special. Privileged that you were able to get educated on things that mattered and made a difference.

You were a regular town girl that got helicopter-dropped into a massive experience that blew your mind only in the first few months, but it wasn't all bad. Your dorm was acceptable, you didn't have to commute back and forth to a house where they never understood you, and you had your mates. They were the pick of the litter in the whole universe, even though you called each other losers all the freaking time in the group chat - which was also littered with memes and caps lock messaging and calling each other out for not restocking the toilet paper roll for when you most needed it in the middle of the night.

You had started not really knowing what you wanted academically, but you ended up figuring it out after switching courses a couple of times. You surely did have a pretty clear idea of who you wanted to be socially. The pre-drinks were your territory; the fitting tops, the ripped jeans, the one-dozen-hairstyles per term, the whole deal. Mingling with your crowd and sometimes with strangers' crowds in risque situations just to get the taste of adrenaline under your tongue.

Then you met Daisy. Your make-out pal of the night every other week, the occasional tit-on-tit, tribbing partner when things got too hot and intense. The person who introduced you to things you never wanted to try again and others you wanted to cherish for life. She was also the only person to ever convince you to buy a strap-on to add on to your regular snogging, and damn did everything change after that. She took you to all sorts of party spots, pre-drinks or after-parties, at the wild languages department, or the hazy communication department, or the jocky, libido-fest parties for any sports team she could find.

You met tons of different people, with dozens of different lifestyles and hair styles and music preferences, of all sorts and genders and types, and it was magnificent. Yet nothing, no party, no one could ever make you feel as puzzled and excited and horny as the male football team.

The captain alone had the doe-est eyes, the fluffiest curls, and the softest ways. And he had the yummiest lover in the whole room. The forward of the rugby team, a leggy bloke with the summer sky in his eyes.

The first kiss you stole from the corner of his mouth was a drunken mishap, but the second and third ones were well-planned and consensual. From there, it was quick to fall into temptation.

On Friday, you joined the gym he went to because you were addicted to his back muscles. The next Monday, you were exchanging sloppy kisses in the alleyway behind the gym. Fingers lost in his blonde locks. A curious nose under your jaw as he tried to order you around in response to your demanding remarks.

"Seriously, Harrison? This the best dirty talk you got?" You faked a yawn, tugging on his curls to make him kiss you. He fought back, pinched your bum, pushed you harder against the wall. You tightened your grip around his waist, holding back your high to piss him off.