summary: college!tom au - What do you get when you pair up two people who want nothing to do with each other for a psych project titled “Battle of the Sexes”? Loads of sexual tension; and maybe just a tad bit of hatred.
a/n: PART 1! whoo! I DECIDED TO MAKE IT TOM BC OF YA KNOW SEXUAL ATTRACTION SOO (peter is young so i was like nah) AND NO THIS IS WAY DIFFERENT THAN SPITEFUL SOULMATE OK THX! ALSO THIS GIF MAKES ME BUST A FAT NUT THX
“Okay, okay. Take your seats before I walk the hell out of this room.”
You sat down, slumping heavily into your assigned seat, throwing your Psychology book on top of your desk; you sighed heavily due to the fact first class of the day always put your horrid mood in an even worse state of mind. The sun was beaming through the classroom window, causing you to grunt at the happiness effect crawling into the room.
You honestly couldn’t describe how much you loathed Psychology. It was sickening, really. Not the fact that you had to sit in the front of the room, which means you’re notorious for getting called on whenever your professor had a question. Or maybe it was that your moody morning persona conflicted explicitly with the people seated around you.
You didn’t hate the subject, hell, it was probably the one that put you through the least amount of pain, yet there was something specific about this time of day, this aspect of learning environment, or the being seated behind you every day.
Yet today, though your attitude was in the shitter, your grades were not thriving, and you had not studied for your calculus pop quiz, somehow felt joyful, almost. The quiet murmurs of your classmates beside you put you at ease, which was odd.
Something was missing.
“So, how was everyone’s weekend?” your professor pressed, leaning her elbows on top of the podium seated in the front of the room, her glasses sitting promptly atop her nose.
You sighed, knowing that the once casual, peaceful atmosphere was about to exchange into an uproar of students’ crazed, fucked weekends that they desired to share with your younger teacher.
“I got shit-faced!”
“The Frat House was fucked!”
“I screwed the hottest ch-”
“Okay! Pipe down!” she hollered, putting her hands up in defense from all the comments being thrown at her, “Moving on.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at her casual attitude, and how she could handle a small college psych class in any kind of situation.
She coughed, pulling the cap off the dry-erase marker before turning towards the class, to grasp everyone’s attention, “So, since we’re well into the end of the quarter, I have an assignment for you all to-”
Interrupting her, a door slammed from the back of the room, the squeak of the door perked everyone’s attention to whip their heads around, staring at the person who divided everyone from the lesson.
“What I miss?”
That scratchy, voice that seemed to cause your eyes to roll to the back of your head traveled to your ears, your hands that were once by your side were now grasping tightly on to your desk; you to keep yourself from breaking the goddamn thing in half.
Prof. Rodriguez halted in her place, closing her eyes tightly and pursing her lips into a thing line to refrain for throwing the dry erase marker in her hand through the air and into his ass.
“Well, you’re late, for one thing,” her voice was stern, one hand on her hip as she looked his figure up and down, pushing him to sit down so she could continue on. You chuckled lightly at the fact that she seemed to be the only Professor on campus that care about people walking in late.
You didn’t even bother turning around, as he was quickly seated behind you, his feet kicked up to rest on the basket attached to your desk, “Sorry, Prof. R. I was-”
“Just shut it.”
Snickers erupted across the classroom, including from you as she ignored his advances to explain his tardiness and just turned around to continue the lesson.
You focused in on the lesson, trying to prevent yourself from moving any of your attention to the asshole seated behind you, knowing once he gets you going, there’s no way out.
“So, anyway, I’m giving you your last big assignment of the year,” she continued, writing across the board all the points she was going to cross about it. You focused in on, or at least tried, before your thoughts were rudely interrupted by a breath of hot air running down your neck.
“Miss me?” Tom muttered from behind you, lips ghosting lightly over your earlobe, the hair along your body rose at the contact; you silently cursed yourself for letting him have any kind of effect on you.
You rolled your eyes, arms folded across your chest as you fidgeted in your seat before whispering back harshly, “Fuck you,” your voice was stern.
You could hear the squeak of his chair inch closer to yours as he moved forward, not faltering once, “I would love to,” his lips pushed faintly against your earlobe, your stomach catching in your throat as you felt every inch of your body light up with irritation.
“UGH!” you roared lowly, grasping both ends of your desk tightly before practically throwing yourself and your desk a good ten feet forward, slamming down harshly onto the floor beneath you.
Your face was flushed, and your mind was replaying thoughts of ways to kill with getting away with it. This is what you meant by loathing the beginning of the day, Tom Holland created your awful mood; and him being a complete and utter fucking asshole to you wasn’t the only problem you had with him.
“So, who enjoyed the reading i assigned over the weekend?” your teacher asked, locking eyes with people in the room.
You turn around, gazing at the classroom filled with hands thrown in the air. Your eyes pop out of your head, disgusted at the fact that so many people enjoyed reading about a conservative misogynists’ views on women in society.
“What?” you ask, voice laced with disappointment as you stared at Prof. Rodriguez, your mouth hanging wide open as you refused to believe the amount of headassery in the room.
She turned towards you, smiling slightly as your demeanor, point at you, “Y/N, please share.”
“You all enjoyed that? He was a misogynist, conservative asshole who cared nothing for equality, just about how many poor cities the U.S. ‘doesn’t need’ to help out!” you screamed, whipping around in your seat to look around the room; most everyone’s eyes rolled in the back of their heads.
“I agree,” Zendaya spoke from beside you, sticking her hand out below her desk, reaching towards you. You point to her, signaling one hand towards her for agreement as the other slapped her’s for a high-five.
Prof. Rodriguez walked closer towards you, folding her arms across her chest and nodded in agreement, “So, is Y/N the only one-”
“As opposed to what?” Tom interjected from behind you, his voice sending a row of chills down your spine yet almost a foot to his balls.
You shifted, turning to face him, eyebrows creasing towards the middle of your forehead, eyes narrowing into slits as they lock in an intense stare with his hazel orbs; the same glare that draws you in every single fucking time.
Tom leaned forward, licking his lips before speaking, “You? A bitter virgin who has no friends?”
The room erupted into fits of murmurs and whispering laughter as the words left his thin lips, causing Zendaya to tense up from beside you. Your cheeks radiate crimson once again as your peers’ gazes narrow in on you, their lips turned into a mocking smile.
Your teeth grind together in rage, fingernails digging deep into the palms of your hands as your jaw tightens. You bite your lip, not daring yourself to rip away the fierce stare down you’ve locked yourself in with him.
“Woah, woah woah. Tom, stop-”
His thick, chocolate haired fell slightly across his forehead, a small curl lying above his risen left eyebrow, his lips painted with a sly smirk as his eyes shoot daggers into your orbs, his tongue poking out form between his lips to bite it.
You grasp your chair, “So I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time.”
Another round of chuckles scatters over the room, the slight amount of dignity you had left calmed you as people reacted. Your professor snickering to herself from behind you as Tom’s demeanor faltered in the slightest, his eyes radiating embarrassment and defeat. Your pursed lips turned upward into a smirk before turning around and continuing to listen to the lesson.
“While Y/N makes a good point, I made you read this for a reason; to show how different people see the sexes.”
Tom groaned from behind you, as so does the rest of the class, indicating how bored everyone was as Prof. Rodriguez continued on for the next thirty minutes, discussing the differentiating views of men and women.
As everyone’s ears seem to cancel out the sound of your teacher talking, she then says something intriguing, snapping their attention to the front of the room.
“The project is titled, ‘Battle of the Sexes’. And it will test which sex can last the longest without, well, sex.”
Your eyes widen as so do others, your teacher’s demeanor switched instantly as she saw your reactions, a smile crawling across her lips.
She continues, tapping her fingers on top of the podium, “So, here’s the assignment. I will assign you each to a partner, and you will attempt to see how long you can last without the temptation to sexual attraction.”
The class sits straight up, looking over an each other awkwardly as they began to realize that they’d soon have to prevent themselves from screwing the other in the following weeks to come.
“You will record every instance you see occur with your partner, and provide and oral presentation with your findings on the human sexuality to the class in a month.”
Some snickers floated around the room as she realized some were laughing at the fact she said ‘oral’; she rolled her eyes and continued.
“If you would like a different partner; moreover, if you have a different sexual orientation than heterosexual, speak to me after class and I’ll pair you up with someone else or allow you to observe another pair and make that your assignment.”
Most nod in understanding; some still feeling extremely uncomfortable, you included.
“Now, I don’t want to know the details of the situation. I just want to know your personal findings and how you think sexuality measures in everyone’s brain.”
Was Prof. Rodriguez on drugs? Is she doing okay? Why in god’s name would she give an assignment like this?
She coughed, reaching for a pile of papers before leaning on the podium once more, “Now I will read the names of partners.”
You fidgeted in your seat before she read aloud the names, your mind rushing with thoughts on who she chose for you, and whether or not your life was about to come to a screeching end.
“Harrison and Zendaya”
“Laura and Austin”
“Jacob and Quinn”
Please, please, for the love of god, don’t give me-
“Y/N and Tom”
“YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING WITH ME?!” your holler was loud, and startled half of the room.
But, as Prof. Rodriguez shot you that same look you’ve seen dozens of times, and when you turned around, and Tom delivered that exact snarky look you’ve received dozens of times, you knew she wasn’t fucking with you.
The sound of a casserole dish cracking into a million pieces is what silenced your sudden screams. Taehyung and Jimin’s voices fell silent, their footsteps becoming louder as they rushed from the kitchen back into the main area of the house, confusion overcoming their features.
You on the other hand, were stone cold, petrified.
Rich, coffee eyes lit up at your quivering, enjoyment lacing his face as you stared up at him, tiny beads of sweat sliding down your temples, and fingers clutching the brass knob of the door a little too tightly.
Is this where you die? Where he sinks his pearly whites into your neck?
“I have to admit, that was not the reaction I was expecting.”
Neil tried to piece it all together, but the more he pushed, the faster it fell apart. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t know what he was supposed to think. It could be a lie, but Neil knew it wasn’t. Andrew was a lot of unpleasant things, but a pathological liar wasn’t one of them.