One Bed (Professor! Tom Hiddleston x Student! Fem! Reader)
Summary: You're on a trip for a research project with your sexy professor...and the Air BNB has only one bed.
Warnings: SMUT ! SMUT! This is one of my mostly smuttier pieces! (loss of virginity, use or professor/student relationship as a kink kind of, some oral sex and p in v sex, a bit of dirty talk and it's unprotected, whoopsies). A mild plot in this one but some sweet, fluffy moments.
Word Count: >2 K. A blurb/smaller oneshot (Prof! Tom just does something to me, okay?!)
Dick-tionary: Smut starts at "Take me. Take me good,” you said" and ends at "Here…let me hold you, YN, please…”.
There was your special trip. School funded. To research the historical context and life of 19th-century romantic authors. One you would take with Professor Hiddleston. The days would consist of visiting old houses and attending lectures in between stuffing yourself silly with sandwiches in tea shops.
All while trying not to secretly oogle the Professor in his suit.
The first day, after a long day of traveling, you attended the first series of lectures. You fought to keep your head from drooping. Both of you ambled down the cobblestoned streets and checked into your stay for the week.
But there was a mishap in the Air BNB. But the location, no- it was still a cozy, comfortable cottage. One of those in England that seemed like a country house that plopped into a city.
The problem was that there was only one bed in that room.
The cottage itself was furnished moderately. The chairs were wooden and rickety. The living room had no sofa.
Professor Hiddleston was going to be a gentleman and try to sleep on the floor or the chairs. The picture of his tall body trying to curl himself up to sleep on one made you almost burst into laughter. He was going to find the host and talk to them.
“It’s big enough! We can just roll away, give each other some space!” you encouraged, gesturing to it.
Before you knew it, you were both in your night clothes. In the bed. A blanket over you.
The beat of your heart raced too fast for sleep. Not to mention your mind for having him near. Seeing him so relaxed. His long curls freed. His glasses were folded in the case on the desk. How his long legs just brushed yours. It was everything in you not to bump your feet flirtatiously to him. Or to even just feel his skin.
It shouldn’t feel this….this…this wrong.
Wrong, wait, you thought, what was wrong?
You both were of age. He was single. You were single. You got along well, incredibly well in fact. He was funny, incredibly kind, wise, and smart as a whip. Not to mention, he was delectable. The way he read Shakespeare out loud would make you wet in a 10 am class. You’d be squirming in his seat as he adjusted his glasses.
When you sat at that lecture, you could see him, Secretly taking glances at you. Your hands just brushed as you took notes. The heat in you jolted you awake and the content of the speech, the reason you were brought here in the first place, seemed like distant white noise compared to his presence close to you.
His breathing was hitching. You heard a rustling. His voice made low and husky, whispering your name.
You turned around.
Before you could process anything, he at once adjusted himself on top of you. Heart beating even harder, feeling his weight pinning you, you began to tremble.
“Pro-Professor?” you asked.
“I don’t care anymore-” he rasped.
He pressed your lips to his. A sound came out of you- you could taste the mint of his toothpaste. He pressed further onto you. Your arms wrapping around to deepen it. He released it, his breath heavy.
“Do you even know what you do to me?” he asked.
You swallowed back the snarky comment that you could feel exactly the effect you had on him brushing against your stomach. Though he was still clothed in his loose white shirt and shorts for sleep. His curls over you. His beard scratches against your skin. Heat rising all over you.
You felt his hands touch you. Tracing down from your breasts to your stomach. And further down. You began to tremble and the pooling sensation was happening between your legs. He reached your neck and pressed a kiss there. An involuntary moan flew out of you. His cock in his pants seemed even more pressed.
“I’ve held back, back for so long, darling, please-” he whispered.
His hand stopped when it reached the hem of your shorts. It released and you nearly whined.
“What…what is it?” you asked.
“I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you,” he whispered.
You were a mess of lust now. You wanted him so badly, and here he was. But yet there was the unknown. The precipice.
“I’ve never…never been with a..a..a…I’ve never-never done this, professor” you stuttered.
He kissed your cheek. His eyes were soft, a smile on his face.
“I’ll make be gentle, my dear,” he promised.
You were shaking and wet and ready.
“Take me. Take me good,” you said.
He kissed your neck again, and you let out another moan.
“No one’s here-you can make a sound, darling. It’s only you. And me…don’t be afraid, I’ll make you ready,” he rasped.
His kiss traveled to your chest. Then his hand worked each front button of your shirt. Ceremoniously. Sacredly. He pushed it slowly away to show your breasts. He kissed down your chest and onto one. His lips traveled your stomach and then his hands slif off both your shorts and drenched underwear.
He kissed you and swung you over. Already you felt yourself arch at him.
“Beautiful….you’re fucking beautiful…” he whispered, seeing your bare form. The moonlight slipped through the curtains giving a silver sliver in the room.
The clothes were thrown aside. You were naked. But he was still donned. He held up your leg, arching your back, grinding air. Your arms dangled before the bed and making sure he heard your whimpers, knew how badly you wanted him. He began kissing the inside of your thigh, held up in his large hand. His eyes shone at what lay between your legs.
“Hear my soul speak…” he murmured, reciting Shakespeare.
His lips traveled up. Closer, and closer.
“The very instant that I did saw you…”
You felt his hot breath right before your soaked entrance.
“My heart did fly into your service…”
His tongue gave a lap. You writhed against him. You couldn’t remember being this turned on. His mouth gave little licks. You held onto the bedrail for life. You were going to burst- but you needed him. It was not enough. You wanted more.
“Please…Please, fuck me, Professor…I need your cock…” you began to beg.
He took off his shirt and you were in near shock at his lean, muscular body.
Your heart jumped at his erect, large cock dripping already. You would make it fit. You wanted it to.
He leaned down, positioning himself right at your entrance. He held a forehead to yours.
“Tell me now you want this…tell me now…and I’ll be slow…”
“I want this…” you confirmed.
You lay down, and his hand flew over yours, holding you in place. He groaned as he entered. He slowly slid in, you were gasping.
“Professor…professor-I…I-oh! Oh god!” you cried out.
The pain came to you and fizzled out. You were gasping aloud. Somehow… you adjusted.
“I’m going to move,” he announced.
He then thrust in and out of you. A slow pace. His breathing was hard. His cock hitting the right spot. You put your hands up onto his chest. One hand of his left yours and lifted your leg to feel the deeper position.
“God-god, yes-yes..” you were groaning.
“Tell me-Tell me, darling, if I- I need to-to be slow- you’re so-so good, doing so good-” he rasped in between them.
But you were craving it. The release. The ravishment.
“Professor-please-harder- faster- fuck me- fuck me-more-please!” you were begging. Already new and you were his whore and you wanted him. In every way possible.
He complied. He brought up the pace. The board of the bed hits the wall gently, and it creaks beneath your weight. His grunts above you, his curls undone. No more Shakespeare now. He went faster, going deeper.
His hand reached down. He found your clit and began to circle it. You leaned back and moaned.
“Yes- professor-there-”
“That noise- that look- you’re going to make me- make me- you’re going to-”
He traced faster. You felt the spinning rise up. He kept murmuring filth to you.
“God, you’re going to make me-make me cum- look-look in my eyes- so you see me- cum, go on-cum darling, yes-fuck, cum- already- cume for me-”
You were spinning, reaching there-
“Yes-fuck, darling- be a good girl- cum for me- I’m going to-I’m-cum for me-I want-want my little student to-to cum- yes-cum for me, cum for me-I’m cumming, darling, I-”
Heaven entered that little cottage as you cried out his name, oblivion breaking on you between those sheets. He arrived there too, flushed and panting hard with his last groan.
“Here…let me hold you, YN, please…” he offered.
You cuddled onto him, feeling his seed drip somewhat on your skin. And your own release pouring out too. He was warm, sweating, and yet soft, comforting as you cuddled him.
“I…I didn’t know…you just…you’re the type to quote poetry during sex…” you breathed out in a joke, your haze.
“You’re poetry itself,” he said with a last kiss on your forehead.
imma just leave this riiiiiight here for u this fine Monday 😳🫠
Oh my, the thots are thotting and the whore-mines are raging for me with this look. Omg, the long curls? The suit? The slutty chest hair? 🥵no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐
Time for me to get more unhinged bc this has my thots going-
Since this is Prof! Hiddles I need him to tell me I did poorly on the essay so he pulls me on his lap and spanks me as he corrects me and then has me either propped on his desk and opens my legs or bends me over to earn his forgiveness as he calls me his whore and then his good girl and pulls my hair and then enters me and pounds me violently until I’m screaming for him as we cuuuuuuuu[gunshots]
I do have your prof! Hiddles request, bestie👀I think I can use this pic as inspiration😈😈😈
