warnings (?): pure yearning & pining, jealousy, subtle flirting, a bit of fluff, terrible + corny british references, a harrison mentioned.
summary: you’re more than nervous for your first year of being a teaching assistant, but you have the help of your professor, dr. thomas holland. after spending late nights in coffee shops or his peaceful study, a chemistry blossoms between you two that slowly becomes more than teacher-student. it leaves you to make a choice; to leave your relationship professional or take it a step further. 18+ minors dni! (smut warnings below)
word count: 8.3k!
note: this fictional relationship is completely consensual and i know people have mentioned triggers/experiences toward this au so, i want to add that disclaimer. the reader is 25 while tom is 30! in no way are these characters or plot real and everything is fiction… but glad professor!tom has made a comeback lately so hope you enjoy!!!
pairing: pornstar!tom holland x pornstar!reader (pornstar!sebastian stan makes a comeback as well)
summary: part two to tension and temptation. you and tom have finally given into desire, what does that mean for the both of you?
warnings: smut + oral (fem receiving) + porn (u already know) + lowkey dom!tom + filthy unprotected sex + choking + spitting…(for seb) + … + a shit ton of words skdfjgh
word count: 22.1k
notes: surprisingly people did want another part of this, which i am very grateful for, hope this doesn’t disappoint! this starts off the morning after the end of the first part. there are some small realistic parts about the industry i added in, some from observation, others from minimal research, they’re not important but just a fun fact lol. thank you so much for the support <3 and i’m sorry this took so long! also not this being longer than the first––
What happens once you kill yourself? Because I'm ready to go.
You wanna know what happens once you kill yourself? Your mother comes home from work and finds her baby dead and she screams and runs over to you and tries to get you to wake up but you won’t and she keeps screaming and shaking you and her tears are dripping onto your face and your dad hears all the screaming and runs into the room and he can’t even speak because the child that he loved and the child that he watched grow up is gone forever and finally your little sister runs into the room to see what all the fuss is about and she sees you dead. The person she looked up to and loved. The person she bragged about to her friends, the person she wanted to be just like when she grew up, the person that made her feel safe. But she’s never really going to get to grow up and smile and laugh and love because she’ll always be consumed with this feeling of missing you. And now there’s something missing from your family and they can barely look at each other anymore because everything reminds them of you but you’re gone and hurts more than anything. and you think that your mom never cared because she was always busy and yelling at you to finish your homework and clean your room and forgot to say I love you sometimes but really, she loved you more than anything and she doesn’t leave the house anymore, she can’t even get out of bed and she’s getting thinner and thinner because it’s too hard to eat. Your father had to quit his job and he doesn’t sleep anymore, every time he closes his eyes he sees his baby dead, and the image never goes away no matter how much alcohol he drinks. And at school your best friend sees that your seat is empty and she gets this sick feeling in her stomach and that’s when she hears the announcement. You killed yourself. And suddenly she’s screaming and crying in the middle of class and no one even bothers comforting because they’re all busy sitting there staring at your empty seat with tears dripping down their cheeks and all she wants is for you to hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay like you always did, but this time, you’re not there to do it, everything is dark now that you’re gone and her grades are slipping, she barely goes to school anymore and she ended up in hospital after taking too many pills because she wanted to see you again. the girls who used to make fun of the way you dressed feel their throats get tight, they don’t talk to each other anymore, they don’t talk to anyone, they’re all in therapy trying so hard not to blame themselves but nothing works. and your teacher who always gave you a hard time stares blankly at the wall, she quits her job a few days later. And then your boyfriend hears the news and he can’t breathe, he still calls you a lot just to hear your voice and he talks to you on facebook but you never message him back, he can’t fall in love again because every girl he meets reminds him of you, he’s never going to get over you, he loved you and he cries himself to sleep every night, hating himself and slicing his skin because he couldn’t save you and he’s never going to hold you in his arms or hear you laugh again. Now everyone who knew you, whether they were a big part of your life or someone you passed in the hallway a few times a week, they carry this aching feeling around inside them because you’re gone, and they miss you, and they don’t know why you left but it must’ve been their fault and they should’ve stopped you and they should’ve told you they loved you more and that feeling is never going to go away. And so you killed yourself
I never usually reblog things like this.. but if it saves just one persons life… please take thime to read this even if you think there is no point in living. Please.
Life’s too precious. If you feel like this, please know that it gets better. And that people are always happy to lend an ear; heck drop me a message too. But never, ever think about taking your own life.
Bucky’s room is at the end of the hall. It’s decorated simply—white rug in the center of the floor, a desk sharing a wall with the door, a few posters littering the walls, a dresser across from the bed in the corner of the room. His bed frame is metal and cheap; flimsy, to say the least. He holds onto it while he fucks you—arm outstretched above your head, trying desperately to keep it from slamming against the wall and using the leverage it gives him to pound into you harder.
His friends’ rooms are both attached to his, with their common wall being the front one that the door is on. Sam and Steve have gotten used to banging on the walls of their bedroom in protest of the loud sex happening on the other side, or even sitting in the hallway and knocking on the door. Of course, this means nothing to Bucky, who could probably ignore a category seven earthquake in order to finish. He’s nothing if not thorough.
He tries to be considerate. He plays music loudly—something with lots of bass, to drown out at least a little bit of the sound—but it renders itself useless in between every song, when both of the guys can hear every sound the two of you make. Good sleep is a lost cause in apartment 4B.
Arriving home from a double date with your roommate, you let your jacket—Bucky’s, actually—fall from your shoulders, and you catch it in your hands to hang it up by the door. You kick off your shoes, run your fingers through your hair, find your boyfriend who scurried away to the kitchen, plant a kiss on his lips.
“That was fun.” You say, running your hands up his chest, remembering how he kissed you in the cab on the way here. He smiles and leans on the counter with the heels of his palms, with you in between his arms, in front of his chest.
His lips find yours, and you cup his cheeks in your hands, accepting the tongue that he runs along your lower lip. He tastes like the red wine that he had with his dinner and smells like the expensive cologne that you gifted him last Christmas.
“I don’t think the guys are home.” He says against your mouth, and you smile, breaking the kiss and practically running down the hallway.
He follows you to his bedroom, his hand making contact with your ass, leaving it stinging while you twist the knob and push the door open. He beats you to the bed, sitting on the edge with his legs open, waiting for you to climb onto his lap. You straddle him, feeling his arms wrap around your waist and his lips attach to your neck, delivering wet, hot kisses to your throat and collarbones. He runs his hands over your body—along your shoulder blades, down your spine, across your lower back—appreciating the figure-hugging black minidress that you’re wearing.
You lean forward to push him onto his back, catching yourself on your hands, which are positioned on either side of his head. You grind against his lap and he flips you onto your back in response, rolling his hips into yours.
You kiss like pornstars, swapping saliva between your mouths through tongues and clashing teeth, sucking and biting at plush lips. With his hips between your thighs, your dress inches further up your legs, making your red thong visible.
Your hands are free, and you use this opportunity to pull his shirt out of his pants and unbutton it until it’s open. The two sides hang down, exposing the top of his prosthetic arm and the outrageously defined muscles of his torso.
“Bucky.” You breathe, lips wetly separating from his.
“You okay?”
You nod. “Just want you.”
He chuckles teasingly, nudging your chin upwards with his nose and kissing down to your chest. You arch your back into him, pushing your fingers into the hair at the base of his head.
The room is dark, except for the animated screensaver of the open laptop of his desk and the moonlight that pours through the blinds perfectly, casting rigid bars of light across the wall opposite the bed. You reach to the nightstand beside you, pulling the cord on the lamp and wincing when it turns on as you’re staring at the bulb.
He pulls away and gathers himself, licking his lips and pushing hair from his forehead while he catches his breath. He looks up at you and smiles sweetly, kissing your cheek before standing from the bed and unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his slacks, pulling the zipper down, shoving them past his thighs. His belt hits the floor with a jingle and he steps out of the pants that are now pooled around his ankles. Dark gray briefs are revealed, and you appreciate how nicely they cling to his legs and ass. You remember an earlier comment from him about “fancy underwear,” and you giggle to yourself when you realize that this is what he was talking about.
“What’s funny?”
“‘Fancy underwear.’” You repeat to him, and he cracks a smile before he steps over to you to get back to business.
Instead of removing your dress, he pushes it up past your hips, harshly pulling your panties down and out of his way. He kneels in front of you and kisses your inner thighs, moving up to your pussy, ghosting over it with his lips for a moment before pressing a delicate kiss to your clit, his eyes trained on yours. His gaze remains unwavering when he licks a stripe up your entire pussy. His tongue pushes between your folds and applies pressure to your sensitive bud, and you both moan—you at the sensation and him at the taste.
“Buck.” You whine. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Please fuck me.”
He sighs, disappointed that he can’t eat you out. Not that he isn’t excited to fuck you.
He stands and steps out of his underwear, tossing them behind his right shoulder. His cock stands against his stomach, seemingly thrilled to be freed from its fabric prison. You can’t take your eyes off of it—pretty and pink, fairly long and definitely thick enough.
He spreads his large hand over your lower stomach and lets his thumb hover over your bundle of nerves, keeping it still, for now. He gives his cock a few pumps, holding it just below the head to line it up with your entrance. He looks at you while he pushes in, because he loves the way that your eyes squeeze shut and your hips wiggle to get more comfortable with his intrusion.
He chews on his bottom lip, waiting until you stop clenching and fluttering around him before he moves. When he does, you reach to the hand on your stomach and hold his wrist tightly. He uses his other hand to put your right leg over his left shoulder, the cold metal of his mechanical hand at variance with your hot skin. You take the initiative to put your other leg up on your own.
His movements are less of a rhythmic roll and more of a pistoning in and out of you, giving you what you begged him for only a moment ago. At first, the thrusts are shallow, but after about a minute he can’t help himself anymore. With every jerk of his hips, his cock slams against a spot inside of you that only he has ever reached—although you’d never tell him that, because you’re too proud to admit that he can make you feel better than you ever could yourself.
When you let go of his wrist, he withdraws his hand, licking his thumb before putting it back where it was and putting it to use. He draws small circles into your clit, just like you taught him to do when you first started dating. You buck your hips up and it makes him smile, and you want to smack that look off of his face. You hate that he knows exactly how good he makes you feel.
You tighten around him when you study his concentrated face—how his brows furrow and he licks his lips.
“Feel good?”
“Yes.” Your voice is strained by desire.
“Good.” He mumbles, and starts to put a little more behind every thrust. He pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in, and the slapping noises that your skin makes upon contact with him is obscene. The bed frame squeaks as it rocks, and it hits the wall over and over again, at a moderate-but-still-annoying volume.
Loud knocking on the closed door startles you, but doesn’t phase Bucky.
“What?” He asks, not stopping, or even so much as looking in the direction of the interruption at the door.
Sam’s raised voice is on the other side. “At least put on the music, man. I’m tired.”
“Yeah, okay, fine. Go away.” Bucky replies. Footsteps descend and a door closes. Bucky pauses his movements, clearly annoyed, to lean over and fish his phone out of the pocket of the pants that he let fall to the floor earlier. He thanks God for Bluetooth when it automatically connects to the speaker that lives on his desk, and all he has to do is press play. He tosses the phone onto the mattress, lets it bounce behind your head, and picks up where he left off.
The music is loud enough to drown out the squeaking and the slapping, but definitely not the bed hitting the wall. You can’t bring yourself to care, because the circles against your clit are growing bigger and faster, and your eyes are rolling back into your head.
“Fu-u-uck.” You moan, syllables choppy from the way that you’re being fucked.
“You’re so hot.” He mutters, letting a breathy moan slip out after his words.
Something hits the part of the wall that Steve’s room is behind, and you both can hear shouting. “Shut up!”
Neither of you respond.
A familiar feeling pools in your lower stomach, tightening and threatening to spill. “I’m so close, Buck.”
You tense around him, squeezing his cock and surely bringing him close, too. He pulls out suddenly, but quickly replaces his dick with two of his fingers, curling them against the upper wall of the inside of your pussy. It shoves you violently over the edge, and you cum with a moan that rips through your chest and leaves your throat burning. His fingers continue to move through your orgasm and he watches your legs tremble, kissing your calves that are still rested beside his head.
“You good?”
You only nod.
“We’re being too loud on the bed. Get on the floor.” He orders, and you breathe through your nose, exhaling through your mouth before you stand on wobbly legs. Before you lower yourself to the floor, covered by his pristinely clean, white rug, he clarifies, “Hands and knees.”
The bass of the music booms through your chest, reverberates through your bones, echoes through your head. You feel him kneel behind you, putting one foot onto the floor for balance. You wish you could see him right now—shirt open, sweaty chest heaving, cock standing at attention, ready to fuck you to completion for the second time. He tilts his head down and you can hear him spit onto his dick before shoving it back into you, exercising no restraint.
Your head bows between your shoulders, and you try not to be too loud, because Sam and Steve hardly ever let you hear the end of it when you do, but Bucky’s making it extremely difficult. He’s taking what he wants now, since he’s already made you cum.
His hands hold your hips like they’re handles, yanking your body backwards onto his cock at the same time that he’s ramming into you. His breathing is heavy, and you close your eyes to picture his face right now. A piece of hair over his forehead, fallen from the galled mass atop his head, jaw tight, abs tensing. That’s what he usually looks like, anyway, when he’s fucking you into oblivion. It’s an image that’s forever burned behind your eyelids.
His hips are moving bruisingly fast, bringing you closer to another orgasm. It’s actually more like you’re being dragged behind a pick-up truck that’s approaching a cliff and is showing no signs of stopping.
It takes only a hard clench to throw off his rhythm and have him cumming inside of you, scrambling to blindly locate your clit with only his fingertips so that you can finish together. He rolls it between his fingers, rubs haphazardly, and gets lucky when you cry out that you’re there again.
“Bucky! Oh, fuck!” Your knees sting from the rug beneath them, and your hands make a fist around the strings between your fingers. “Oh my God.”
He pulls out slowly, kissing down your spine while his warm seed spills out of you, trickling down your leg.
You lay on your back on the floor, much too tired to stand, and watch him pull his briefs back up, on a mission to dampen a face cloth to wipe you down with. He comes back with one, and wipes the cum from your legs and pussy, leaving small kisses in the wake of the warm water that refreshes you.
He gives a final kiss to your lower stomach before he tosses the cloth in the direction of his hamper. He lays beside you on the floor, taking your face in his metal hand and pressing sweet kisses to your cheeks and forehead and chin.
It's silent for a moment, before he decides, "I need to invest in a sturdier bed."
A/N: listen, i know the title is :/ but who cares? not me! anyway yeah here’s a piece that’s literally just smut because i was talking to some of my friends about harry having a breeding kink and here we are :))
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*
“Fuck, just like that, puppy,” Harry pants as you slide your tongue along the vein that runs from the base of his cock all the way to the angry red tip.
You look up at him through your lashes, blinking slowly as you take the head of his prick into your mouth. He hisses at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth enclosing around him, and the sound makes your thighs clench together. He growls when he catches sight of the movement. He grabs ahold of your hair, tugging you back as he forces your legs open with the toe of his boot. The stiff leather grazes against your clit, causing you to whine high in your throat.
SUMMARY; Y/N spent her whole freshman year of college running into a brown haired boy, convincing herself it wasn’t more than just some on-going college fling. Until she arrived at her second year, and she finds out his name–and that he’s her TA for the whole year. commission by @matcatlove 💛
PAIRING; Uni!Peter x Reader
WORDS; 6084
WARNING; swearing, references to smut throughout
A party was all you needed today, after studying for your exam for three weeks and finally taking it this morning–all you needed was to get out and go to the nearest club on campus. It was riddled with college students, kids just like you who just needed a break from it all.
It was the first test of the year, of your whole degree, and you couldn’t even tell if you did a good job or not. All you cared about, really, was that it was behind you–but there were three more on their way before the semester would be over. For now, you just needed a drink, and your friend was quick to get you one.
“Drink up, babe,” she said with a wink, as the pair of you downed your cocktails in a hurry, eager to get out onto the dance floor.
synopsis ⇢ your boss’ son tries a new brand of bubblegum for the first time.
↳ rich kid!tom, assistant!reader
genre ⇢ smut (warnings under the cut), minors dni
word count ⇢ 3.5k
note ⇢ I honestly have no excuse for writing this in class, it is what it is. also this is really filthy. like really, really filthy. you’ve been warned. enjoy <3
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