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.
ch summary: On your first day in your Literature course, you get more then you bargained for all thanks to your sexy professor
masterlist/series masterlist/regular taglist
a/n: message me if you want to be added to the SERIES taglist
summary: what happens when a sexy literature professor and student fall for one another over Zoom?
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Another day, another zoom lesson. As much as Tom loved to teach, he was getting fed up with online lessons. He was informed that he would be receiving a new memeber to his class, maybe the new student would be smarter then the other dumbasses in his class. Nevertheless, he pushed his thoughts aside and signed into Zoom.
“Okay class, not to be one of those professors, but cameras on. Let’s have cameras on, lemme so those smiling faces.” He tiredly spoke in his laptop. “Let’s do some housekeeping first and foremost, the chapter summary of The Picture of Dorian Gray are due tonight by 10:00 pm. Anything later will be docked 15 points. Second, please give a nice welcome to our new student, Ms. (Y/N) (L/N). Please turn in your camera (Y/N).” Tom remarked turning his head to his other screen, to see you.
And that’s when he saw you for the very first time.
You had your hair done up in a messy bun, strands falling out, with coke bottle glasses. He was completely taken by suprise from your beauty.
“W-welcome Ms. (L/N). Are you familiar with The Picture of Dorian Gray?” he questioned attempting to be professional. “Yes sir, I’m very familiar with it. One of my favorite works if I’m being honest.” You smiled at your laptop camera, taking in the beauty of your new professor.
You had heard from mutuals that he was quite the charmer, a sexy, young man with the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen in your life.
He smiled at your response, “Noted. Thank you.” He nodded at you and went on with the lesson. It was lucky that you were familiar with the literature, or else you would have completely missed the lesson.
Right after the mini conversation ended between the two of you, you pinned him to your screen. You just couldn’t stop staring at him, he was so hot. Unlike any literature teacher, in which they were either old or moody. Mr. Holland was passionate about his works. He read with enthusiasm and emphasis. It was intriguing.
You studied his face, as he kept glancing up into the camera. For he was studying yours as well. A new face during quarntine was always a thrill, but yours espically.
“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.” Tom read, looking straight into the camera.
You felt like he was staring into your soul through the screen. It made your heart flutter, as he ruffled his hair and then went back to reading.
***
“Please turn in your submissions for the summaries for today’s readings, by tommorow. See you guys.” He waved off his students before his eyes shot open.
“Ms. (L/N), please stay a couple minutes after class. I have a question for you.” He cleared his throat as you tilted your head, and nodded.
He waited for everyone to clear out of the zoom call, before letting the tension drop from his broad shoulders. “(Y/N) is it?” He asked tilting his glasses from the bridge of his nose.
“Yes sir, uh if you don’t mind me asking, what’s this about?” You tried not to sound uncouth, for all you just met the man. The incredibly handsome man.
In A World of Boys, He's a Gentleman (Professor! Tom Hiddleston x Reader blurb)
Summary: Collapsing into tears after a hellish week, your professor boyfriend confesses he loves you.
Warnings: cursing, some work problems (I may have used some of my irl experiences in here, oops) Reader liking Romantasy books, but other than that, some hurt/comfort and lots of fluff!
A/N: I decided to leave it ambiguous if Reader is a student or not, so that is personally up to you. From @holdmytesseract's request for the birthday blurbs! Thanks for your patience!
If the past week was purgatory, then today was utter hell.
Everything in your life was driving you so busy, you felt both stasis and panic at once. You got so distracted that you would zone out on your phone closing and reopening the same apps for hours. Then at work, people were driving you up a wall. Because you were a good employee who had to get things done in the order and way they trained you or else…less got done. The impossibility of productivity crept on you. Minutes became hours. You had to argue with someone in a conversation that should have been four minutes but lasted eight because she would not shut up, kept repeating the same things over and over, would rarely let you speak and when you did, never replied or added onto your responses. On top of that, your body decided that the buttcrack dawn of morning when it was still dark was a good time to be awake. And impossible to drift back to sleep even when you took cold medicine. Which then made you exhausted at work.
Thank god for your professor boyfriend.
He was your light in the midst of all this. You had dated for some time, and even the sight of him putting on glasses in a nice suit as he headed off ofr work still made you tingly inside. He would leave you little gifts at your place- flower bouquets, cupcakes, and the like. You were at a point where you didn’t have to have romantic dates all the time. You were now just in his place. Just hanging out. Simple as that.
You could be quiet and not interact every second. As cats parallel played you could just be in comfortable silence together. Especially when it came reading- for you had something of a silent book club. You both turned off your phones and would sit devouring book after book.
He was a Literature professor, so it was in his nature. It seemed though sometimes he was never off the clock! He even challenged you- it was one thing that drew you to daring him. He was smart enough- he respected you as an intelligent being in your own right but was able to have questions and discussions. It was the academia in him. It made you grow into wanting to be a better person for him…and he for you.
Though today, your stress, anxiety, and semi insomnia was creeping up on you. You sat on the brown chair and he on his sofa. There was the same book in your hands. He was already rubbing a finger over his lips, pressing his glasses close. Enchanted by the spell words made. It was a well-reviewed piece of literature that won awards and was featured on the official lists of esteemed journals. He recommended this title to you and you were both reading it.
As you sat with your own copy that he leant you, you cracked open the stiff spine from it’s newness and began to read…
You were spacing out on the first chapter. It was dense, poetic, and beautiful….but you had no idea what the heck was going on.
After a few more pages, it was starting to get sad.
What was it with these books? And it was not cheery- Was high literature just sad things happening like people having affairs on their wives or committing abuse or doing drugs or going to war or just being awful with no repercussions?
With a sigh, you reached into your bag and pulled out a different book- an escapist, spicy romantasy that all the girls on social media were losing their minds over. You replaced the high literature book, setting it down quietly, and opened it. Tom was so engrossed in the book he didn’t notice. You didn’t want him to notice.
You found this time you were understanding the words in front of you. And you found yourself drawn. Was it the best piece of literature to be studied in a professors class in the future? Hell no. But you were here for a good time, not a long time. And not to study human nature deeply, but to be in a different world, where you had a different name, a different look, and different problems, but far more magical and exciting than everything crashing down in your dull, grey reality. One where your clothes were beautiful with corsets and fine fabric instead of just jeans. One where you would have a sword with a name then a smartphone that sucked all of your free time. One where you could be a princess, a queen, an assassin, a fae lady, a vampire, a pirate, a goddess, a duchess… anything other than plain old you in a plain old life at a plain old job.
Tom looked up. He then eyed over your cover and back at you.
You looked up at him and grimaced. Then you shoved the book back into your bag.
“Please! Don’t judge me!” you cried.
“Why would I judge you?” he asked.
You gestured over to the book in his hands.
“I’m reading this silly trash book and you have all of your fine literature!” you cried.
He set his own copy down, but his blue eyes softened.
“My dear…Is something up?” he asked.
He knew you well enough he could tell the signs.
“Yes, my day was hell! It was this and this and this and…I try to handle it but..I’m overwhelmed so I can’t…I really can’t…I’m not even smart enough to read this book, because I try and try but I just can’t understand this stuff and I can’t get into it, like you…I’m an idiot…”
You burst into tears, and he came over, hugging and kissing your head in little pecks.
“No…darling, no…” he murmured.
You leaned into his arms. You found yourself vneting and complaining the suffering long inside you.
“I know…I’m a mess…” you sobbed out. “And there was a lady at work who’s a bitch, and my job is so hard, and I can’t sleep at night…it’s just…I wish I could be smarter, nicer, better for you Tom, but…”
“How do you take tea?” he asked.
Looking up, you wiped your tears with your sleeve and answered him.
He made it for you the way you liked. It was the prettiest mug- white with bluebell flowers painted on it. And returned with it. You sipped at it, it was perfect in it’s flavor and so warm, you felt it melt inside you. You placed both hands around it- science said it was like receiving a hug. Feeling the warmth inside and outside as you looked up at him.
He scooted himself to be close, a gentle smile on his face and one of his large, beautiful hands rubbing your forearm in comfort.
“I know I’m a mess.” you said.
“I like you as a mess.”
You began to blink at him.
“No, I…but I’m…I’m trying, but I just…I know I complain and I read trashy books and I call people bitches and all that, you can say it, Tom. It’s the truth,” you replied.
“Set your drink down,” he requested.
You complied.
He cupped your face. A gasp aired itself in your throat.
“My dear, you are perfect as you are. A mess, broken, crying…and I want nothing else than to be with you.” he confessed.
You nearly dropped your jaw.
“That’s…a…you’re saying that…”
“Well…I…yes, I never thought I’d run into someone like you, who’d change everything. Why should I care if you feel upset sometimes like every human being or what you read to make you happy or that things aren’t always wonderful…I…I love you….there, I said it.”
Love. The little word that changed everything. And it was the first time he said it. It was…unspoken. Something you both felt for the long months you dated, but never confirmed. And here it was, materialized and as present as the furniture and mugs and books, for it was just as real.
“I love you too, Tom.”
You embraced him tight, and he embraced back. He then pressed his forehead to yours, squeezing hands.
He then let go, looking down at your mug.
“Here…your tea will get cold…” he said, offering the drink back to you.
“And…my book….” you murmured.
“Oh, I have no problems with you reading it with me! If it’s that good, I’ll make you another cup of tea and get us some biscuits as well! Then you must tell me all about it!” He gave a little laugh. “Who knows, I may even try it myself someday!”
Smiling with him, you gave him a kiss on his cheek. Then, you settled into cuddling him, sipping your tea and enjoying both of your books in a moment of pure bliss.
Requesting a Professor Hiddles story (you can choose what subject he's teaching) where he already has this friendly type of dynamic w/ Reader and she's nervous about finals week and he goes "Tell you what, if you ace all your exams I'll take you out to dinner. Anything you want."
…And then (surprise surprise) she wants to skip all that because she just wants him 🫠🫠
I shall leave spice level entirely up to you 😏
And for some ✨inspiration✨…
Hi bestie! Thank you for requesting a Prof! Tom fic! I loved writing it!
Exam Aid (Prof! Tom Hiddleston x Student! Reader)
Summary: When finals have gotten you down, your Shakespeare professor offers some help...and motivation...
Word Count: 5939 (woof)
Warnings: Eventual Smut at the end! NSFW! (Reader is a college student ((if undergrad or graduate that's up to you)) so she's over 18. Dom! Prof Hiddles and Sub! Reader, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, doggy style, doing it in an office. It's super filthy when it gets there, so be warned), mentions of anxiety and insomnia and mental health. My Shakespeare tastes and my IRL English Major college experiences are used and referenced bc it's my indulgent fic too and I do what I want. Some hurt/comfort. Prof Hiddles being both a dom and silly goofy in one fic bc get you a man who can do both.
Taglist: @huntress-artemiss@ijuststareatstuffhereok89@evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract (smut starts at "I'm good at more than just kissing" and ends at "He looked at you with a sweet smile", for your comfort, bestie) @eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@muddyorbsblr
It wasn’t the actual week of finals. Oh no, you knew how the drill would go. It was the month or week before. It would be assigned. Every last essay thrown on top of you. And with professors without a touch of reality for students.
“Who the hell has time to read and finish A Tale of Two Cities in two days?!” you thought as you shoved your unabridged copy of Dickens in your bag. Promising yourself to get through as much as you can and then read the Sparknotes summary in the morning. You weren’t immune to it.
Throughout your time in college, you had many a professor. Professors came in varieties. There were creative writing professors who ranged from tiny women who would assign short stories that made no sense to blonde men with glasses and toothy grins who loved it when their male classmates wrote exploitative abuse. Mythology professors with Greek accents and tans. Then there were the mixed bag of literature professors.
The previous professor of the literature survey for Shakespeare also taught the American Literature Survey course. He was Dr. Rutledge. He wasn’t from this year, or even this reality. Either a wise old sage or a kooky scientist from the movie. He had long, thin grey hair, and wore bow ties with black glasses and thick tweed jackets. He smiled and would speak for hours in a tone half sarcastic, half serious. You knew he would go back home and cozy up with a whole copy of Moby Dick next to a fireplace as he sipped on tea or even scotch if he was feeling adventurous. When he brought up sex and seduction with the Scarlet Letter it was the equivalent of hearing a nun confess her last orgy.
So when you registered this year for the Shakespeare course, that was the sight you were expecting.
Since the first day in walked someone different. He may have been wearing a suit, but he definitely was not Dr. Rutledge.
Everyone was gossiping and chattering and sipping on their iced coffees when they fell silent. Every single back stood up straighter at the sight of him. Young, tall, virile. Long, curly reddish blonde hair. A goatee and glasses to show his maturity. Sharp suits that framed every inch of his lean but fit body. Eyes and cheekbones to die for. A jaw so straight it made the men taking the class question if they were.
No introduction of “hi, I’m-” No icebreaker games. He only stepped forward, to his podium. Held onto it, everyone leaned forward. He had all of you in the palm of his hand. Then, with his clear, bright baritone voice, he spoke-
“Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York…”
His voice…something about it. So…rich…Goddammit, he picked that one, the opening speech of Richard the Third. If he picked Romeo’s balcony declaration or something like that, you would be in even more danger of falling onto the floor in a horny heap of suppressed yearning. But no…it was Richard the Third’s monolgoue. Of all the characters he was playing, of all the characters in the Shakespeare canon you could thirst after, it was fucking Richard the Third. Definitely not known as a hunk or even a likable person according to canon.
But the way he said it- threatening, villainous even. He leaned in and confessed his true feelings about the royal family and his plot to destroy them and rule over them. You could already feel something stirring inside you. And it was eight am in the morning.
As he finished the monologue, speaking it so naturally it was as if it were his own words, the class burst into applause.
With a casual bow, brushing his curly blonde-red hair out of his face, he introduced himself.
“Hello class- good morning. I’m your professor- Professor Hiddleston, and I will make this as fun and engaging as a morning class on Shakespeare can be.”
From then on, you enjoyed the class. You tackled it on- after all, you wanted to have some fun. You loved Shakespeare. But Professor Thomas Hiddleston…was a bonus. Thank the lord he wore suits. And if not suits, white shirts with the sleeves rolled up. He might as well as taken it off for you.
You went through various sonnets. Then explored the poetry- Aphrodite and Lucretia. Then the plays. Even plays that the undergrads thought the most dull he made intriguing. He made everything clear with Shakespeare’s life too himself- how the Bard lost a son named Hamlet. How Shakespeare was accustomed to the great courts and low brothels Prince Hal tasted both of.
When theatres did productions or there was the odd movie adaptation in theatres, everyone went to go see it. Then he had a showing of lesser-known film adaptations. Showing how Orson Welles framed the shot of Falstaff to make the large knight seem even larger. The Bollywood Othello where at long, long last Emilia survived and she was the one to kill Iago, much to the class’s cheering.
“Are there any other movies we should watch?” he asked.
One kid shot up and suggested Shakespeare in Love. He raised an eyebrow.
“ It was not Shakespeare’s invention to have the lovers die. Romeo and Juliet was a a known story in Elizabethan era England and everyone knew back then that the lovers died. It’s like someone just suggesting that Superman comes from another planet- we all know he does. Not because of him having an illicit affair as his poor wife was left to raise their surviving children far off and alone!”
“What about Anonymous!?” cried one kid, trying to be cool.
He let out a deep, ragged sigh.
“There is more than enough evidence to suggest Shakespeare wrote the plays. Every criticism says he can’t write it because he was uneducated. However, if you look, there are hysterical inaccuracies in his geography And no one questions the authorship of Maya Angelou because of her lack of formal education! Just because he was not a nobleman, does not mean he was not aware of things as you are! Every Anti-Stratfordian argument boils down to classicism.”
It was the best class you took. Having him teach definitely helped. And he would invite people for coffee talks and of course, you would bolt to join. Yet you enjoyed it- seeing him so relaxed. Warm in his coat as everyone circled around to talk about plays they knew of but hadn’t read in this class.
“Well- all of us went through our high schools. We all read Romeo and Juliet- what do you think?” he questioned them one autumnal day.
“They’re just brats! Ugh!” one guy snarled out.
That you couldn’t take. You set down your drink, glaring at him.
“They’re not!” you cried out passionately.
Eyes turned forward to you. You wished youcould have slapped him, but you stopped.
“Well, Y/N…why do you think that? Why are they not brats?” the professor asked.
“I think…the plays aren’t meant to be realistic. Of course, they fall in love immediately- so do Rosamund and Orlando but no one calls them brats! It’s not Romeo and Juliet who get everyone killed! It’s not their love that hurts anyone- it’s just the feud and Paris l thinking he is entitled to Juliet’s body after her supposed death! No one knows about them- only they, the nurse, and the priest know about it! They’re innocent! Juliet calls Romeo her ‘friend!” Her one and only friend! That’s how alone she is without him! They are just innocent victims of a greater scheme. Hamlet and Othello fall prey to their own flaws- but Romeo and Juliet are just two young kids caught in the crossfire!”
You didn’t realize how passionate you were. You felt your face get hot with embarrassment as the class gaped at you. But the Professor was nodding his head. He gave you a small smile as you sat down.
“That was…very good. Next time, use the text and a few sources, and you have yourself a good essay, Y/N,” Professor Hiddleston said.
You liked how he challenged you. He would only want you to do better. He wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass, but he would support you. You would ask after each other. He told you a bit about his life- about how much there was to grade. How he got the job. Little things- but little things only added up to how much you liked him. Even…even…no, you couldn’t you would never say it aloud. But your bedtime fantasies…you were more than mere friends…but that was only for fantasies.
You tried to let those regular Shakespeare classes comfort you. But finals were taking a toll on your sleep, and your health. You were so wound up and stressed, trying to read and perfect essays that you had trouble going to bed. Your brain kept churning- unable to think of anything else but your work. You couldn’t realx- you worked so hard to get into this school, this degree. If you didn’t pass then…you would be a failure and all that work to go to this school would be for nothing.
At least after a sleepless night, you had something to look forward to- to distract yourself. But even lately in those classes, you curled into yourself. The heaviness of your exhaustion and the jolt of your anxiety over finals in an unending cycle of misery. You were so…tired…and done…and drained…you knew it would pass with time…
After class, as everyone filed out, Professor Hiddleston walked over to where you slowly gathered your things. He held out a hand to you.
“What is it, Y/N? You’re usually smiling and happy here. But you seem very grave lately…has something happened?”
You shook your head.
“Not really just…finals…I want to do well. I can’t get C’s- I want to do them perfectly! I want to! I want this degree! Now I…I’m so scared of failing…I wanted this school so much, now I…I…” you began to mutter.
You felt tears wriggling out of your eyes, and your breath shook as you uselessly tried to hold them back. He handed you tissues from his coat pocket. You felt like a trashbag- crying in front of this fucking Greek God. But he looked at you kindly. You wiped your eyes. Snot threatened to release from crying and you blew your nose. Ugh, he would think you were especially gross after that. But his gentle smile did not change. You wrapped up the tissues and tossed them aside- then he handed you the little plastic package.
“Is it mansplaining if I give you some advice?” he asked.
“Oh, no…it’s not…” you said.
“Break your studies apart, Y/N. Ten little minutes at a time. A break. Then ten more. If you take time to focus, it will help you. Or if you make it fun and play music or make little drawings, then you have a picture as well…I know it means a lot…but if you rest, you will recover…and you must think smart, not hard,” he advised.
“Okay…” you nodded.
“Y/N, there are counselors here…they will help you and you don’t have to pay anything. They; 've helped me, and so many others, they should help you…” he suggested. He got out pamphlets from a corner of his desk to give to you.
“I’ll see one…Why are you so kind to me?” you asked impulsively, looking up.
He put his hands in his pockets, glancing down, and then back up.
“If I may be frank, you remind me so much of myself when I was a student. I had a thesis I had to write on Shakespeare’s problem plays…and it consumed me. I wish someone had given me that advice at that time-I only want you to suffer a little less. Don’t be so hard on yourself- like I was on me…”
You nodded up at him, adjusting the straps of your bag and gathering your things in your arms.
“And I’ll..I’ll make it fun- I’ll think of a reward for after…” you said.
He placed his hands in front of him, his lips tightening, and then in a rushed exhale, he spoke.
“Y/N…how would you…you…you like dinner? After finals?”
You perked your head up. Was this real? You blinked at him, saying nothing.
“Y/N…make me a bet…Go to counseling, break apart your studying, get through your finals, and do as well as you can…and I will take you out to dinner, how does that sound?” he asked.
You smiled at him, your heart beating fast. But yet…you were touched. You put a hand over your chest and released an exhale.
“Professor that…that sounds wonderful…” you answered.
“Ah, excellent. Now- is that a deal?” he asked with a tilt of his head.
You gave him a smile and a small laugh.
“It’s a deal,” you replied.
You managed to get a counseling session scheduled for tomorrow. You went inside, sat, met the kind therapist, and smiled as you vented and cried out your feelings. When you went back to where you lived and spent your emotions, you crashed onto the bed. It was the best nap you had ever taken.
You followed his advice. You broke down studying or writing essays and researching. You took more breaks. You had made flashcards with doodles for the tests and were catching on quickly. Your research was more fruitful and your essays were getting better in your eyes. You found you slept a bit better at night.
Each day as you sat in at 8 am, the Professor would smile at you and nod. You felt more like yourself again despite the looming deadlines. And they didn’t seem like a matter of life or death anymore.
Everyone knows the week before finals are hell. To study and work so much with no time off from usual classes. But… you would still miss that 8 a.m. Shakespeare survey- and the handsome professor in his suits.
“Y/N, don’t be scared- you will be phenomenal,” He gave you a wink that turned you into jelly.
Damn him. To think you would have dinner with him. You turned around to peek at him erasing the markerboard and glimpsing his curved bum, how his hair curled at the back, and his broad back.
Yeah, now that was motivation to do well.
You studied and wrote with enthusiasm. You completed it all in due time. The essays were to your satisfaction. When you settled at night, you cuddled his pillow. Remembering his smell- be it his shampoo or cologne, the mild, citrus scent. Fantasizing about him. Of dancing slowly at a formal event with you in an evening gown. Feeling his hand on your back and his head lowering down to touch your forehead. Of sharing ice cream. Being a damsel in distress for him to rescue. Then you thought of his body…. And the images changed to something naughtier. Wearing short skirts and showing up to his class. And him noticing. And lifting it up…
You conked right to sleep.
Finals week began. The entire campus knew it was stressful and went ridiculously out of their way to cheer up the students. But it was a lot of fun, you had to admit. Having dogs on campus to pet. Discounts on coffee. That Monday morning the cafeteria was packed with the free breakfast they offered. Once you brave the long lines for free food, you headed out to your first final.
Professors, to your amusement, dotted around the campus. If they didn’t have a class to be in, they were handing little care packages while dressed in silly costumes. The sight amused you and made you smile.
Then walking up, you turned to the right and jumped at the sight with a happy, surprised gasp that became laughter. Professor Hiddleston himself wore a light, frilly tutu made for girls a quarter of his age over his pants, little costume fairy wings over his shirt, and had a headband with little stars on top like ears.
He turned towards you and his face turned bright pink.
“Professor Hiddleston! What is this?!” you asked.
He opened up his arms to present his silly costume.
“We’re doing our anti-stress events! I am here to provide you with help with your stress!” he announced theatrically.
You put your hands akimbo and surveyed his costume up and down. If the class knew, they would lose it.
“And you’re doing it?!” you asked.
“Why not! I’m not a stick in the mud all the time! I can have fun!”
You laughed again.
“I should take a picture and send you to the group chat of our class!”
“I don’t see why not!”
He posed as you took a picture.
“And how are you feeling?”
“I feel better! Much better now- I feel like I’m ready…”
“Good! It will be done soon! A bit at a time!”
He handed over a stress-free care package. Exchanging smiles, you continued by with a lighter step in your shoes.
You went to every test outside of the pre-written essay. You knew what to do as you wrote short essays for the tests. You didn’t completely panic and wrote them as well as you could. When it came to every exam, you felt you knew and understood the material. The week flew by.
Sure enough, on that Friday, with shaking hands and a turning stomach, you looked up your grades. Taking in a breath right when the clock hit noon, you tapped a shaking finger on the mouse. The link buffered on your computer to view them. Then it lit up with revelation.
You passed them. You passed them all. In fact, you did very well.
Your heart was racing but—you realized…you didn’t have his number. Only his email address. With the still nervous feeling…you emailed him, your professor.
“Hello Professor,
My grades were announced- and they’re all spectacular. I passed all of them. So…you made that promise…are you available for dinner?”
You sent it off. You could only ruminate for five minutes- his response was quick.
“Of course, dear Y/N…
Here’s my number below… Meet me in my office. The parking lot isn’t far from it.”
You managed to text him immediately. You were giggling and pacing your room like a high schooler as your phone buzzed with his responses. You re-read them as you paced about with your phone in your face. The high of your crush floating you into the clouds. You were going to go to a nice restaurant- one wasn’t finalized yet, but something nice. And that meant you had to look the part!
You were so excited. You made sure your makeup was how you liked and that your hair looked clean. You put on a part dress-one with a shorter skirt. It was too perfect not to. It was cut only a little low to show some mild cleavage. The collar was wide enough so that it showed your collarbones. It was nice, but flirtatious and romantic. It hugged you in a perfect fit while making you feel amazing and sexy.
Sure enough, you went over to his office. The place was abandoned. All offices and buildings on the Friday of the Finals are in the early evening. You walked over and knocked on the door.
He opened the door and your heart almost stopped.
He was lovely. In his suit. His curls and that slutty goatee combed. Smelling fresh and clean. He still was in his blue suit- bringing out the blue in his eyes. Loving, beautiful.
“Ah, Y/N- please, come in,” he welcomed.
You followed suit. He closed the door. There was a second where you just looked at each other. Despite his goatee, you saw him biting his lip.
“Now, how about that dinner, Y/N…” he offered. “There’s La Gardeniera-suitable. A nice place for a special occasion as this…”
You gave him a shrug.
“I don’t care…anywhere…” you replied.
“Anywhere? ” he asked.
He put his hands in his pocket and looked at you. It was a simple office- white and brown as many are. There was a bright window, the blinds turned over, as the setting sun’s rays fell over it. There was a small bust of Shakespeare and a pitcher with cups of water. His desk had a neat stack of papers, and annotated books all over it. Cozy and comfortable- like how he made you.
“I just…I want to be with you…I don’t mind. Take me to a McDonalds and I won’t care…” you went on.
“Y/N…I…me?” he asked.
“Yes, you! We don’t even have to eat or…to, uh…I just…” the words were failing you and you felt your heart pick up. You looked down at the floors and then back up at him.
“You want to…to be with me…” he walked forward curiously. But you did not retreat. Did not back away. You only met him in his blue eyes, welcoming him.
“Y/N…are you sure?” he asked.
He took a step closer. He was right before you. And you did not retreat. You met his gaze. So close. The tension between you.
“Professor Hiddleston, I am sure…I just want to be with you…anywhere…you just…make me happy…” you finally confessed.
“You make me happy too…” he murmured
He leaned forward, seeking permission. You gave a shaky nod.
Then he kissed you.
Something in you released. So long it was boxed up- now wild and free. He immediately took his hands and ran them up and down you and you held onto him in the kiss. Feeling him as he deepened it with the wet sound of lips. Grabbing onto each other, releasing what had been held for so long. He released and then kissed you-again, then again. Like he was drowning and you were air.
“Mphm- what-what were the grades?” he asked before kissing again.
You caught your breath and took a break still close to his lips.
“Passed them. Flying colors,” you reported.
He kissed you again, moaning into it. Then he broke it again.
“Well now…my little student…doing so well…” he rasped.
You grabbed him and heart racing you felt him kiss you. His facial hair scratched against you. He kissed you back. He backed you up.
“You’ve been…good…” he breathed, pressing you there into it. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders.
“Mphm- this feels…feels so nice…you’re a good kisser,” you whispered.
“I’m good at more than just kissing, my dear-”
He held you, pulling you close. He backed you to the door-holding you against him. He then reached a hand and turned over the lock. It was sealed with a click. His hands then returned to you. He cupped your cheeks, then it slid down your neck, and your chest, and then settled on your wasit.
“I’ve…I’ve…God, I’ve wanted you so much…I…I don’t know if I…think I can…hold back…my dear, I-I-if you’re not…not ready, I’ll-”
“I don’t want to leave yet- let’s wait for dinner-take me. Fuck me here, now,” you begged.
You didn’t need to say any more than that. ou shuddered. He found your skirt and touched your leg, lifting it up. Feeling your skin, cold from exposure.
“All this…is all for me now…”
His hand reached over your leg. His long fingers possessively gripped each bit of flesh. Enjoying it- feeling you for the first time. Treasuring you and making his mark- you were his and his alone. He wrapped an arm around you and lifted you up onto that door. You let out a sound He then took your leg and guided it to wrap around his waist, holding onto him. You were so dripping wet you could feel his pants brushing your soaked panties. He held you easily-so, so easily. Just muscle and wall holding you and keeping you in place. He managed to lift you up- keeping you up with how pressed he was to you. How warm. Keeping him on you.
Your lips crashed again. You kept touching him. One hand finally touching his hair- his beautiful, long curls. The other kissing into him. In his suit, he began to ground against you now that you had nowhere to go away- not that you would leave. He kissed you with tongue and fire. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back, wet noises and messy, desperate need.
“Tom…Tom, I-” you murmured.
He touched your chin, shushing you.
“We’re still in my office, my dear. And you will call me Professor,” he said.
He reached a hand down- feeling hte seat of your soaked panties. Smiling from teh effect already.
“Yes…yes, I will…” you breathed out.
“Now- my little angel. She did so well…and she comes to me, so needy…so desperate-first for her finals and now for my cock-”
You held onto him, touching his tie. Pulling him up. You felt his erection stretching through his pants. The hooded eyes and soft voice, his hot breath. You gave him a smile- eager to have him.
“I’m going to rip your clothes off and fuck you senselessly- and I want you- I never heard a thank you- I want to hear your gratitude for how I take care of you in every way…how does that sound? Too much for you?”
“It sounds wonderful for me-Professor,” you purred in response.
He wrapped an arm to help you up and carried you- legs around his waist.
. He then backed you over to his desk. He kept one by you- so close, so close. He took a hand and shoved aside the books and papers. It didn’t matter- now there was you.
He pulled up your skirt. Desperately trying to find the zipper. Almost shaking in his long fingers. His erection seeping through his pants- he was so pent up.
“All that time. Wanting you. Feeling you near. Do you know how many nights I had to jerk off to imagine this- you! Seeing you- feeling you right there- my little beauty, angel, and siren at once.”
He shoved your dress off and down. Now in your bra and underwear. His hands went to under your straps- feeling them already- his bare flesh on your bare flesh. You were backed there.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you what?” he asked darkly.
“Th-thank you, Professor.”
He kissed you again. You were his little pet, his toy, his plaything. And you would please him- You held onto his shoulders. Grinding more into his body, He was still. Yet you heard his breaths, catching in his chest. He still remained clothed.
Then in a rush, he gripped your bra.
“You won't need these- not with me.”
With a strength that made you gasp, He ripped your bra in half. He breasted so fast, panting like a beast. Looking down at your breasts. Both large hands fondled them, moving them around.
“Th-Thank you, Professor,” you whispered.
“But there’s one thing- one thing keeping me- from what I need” he growled.
He reached down, and in a second, he ripped your panties apart again in half. You gasped at the feeling. The cloth in two- uselessly falling apart.
“No bra- no panties when I see you -easier access- do you understand…I have a need for you, do you get it-”
“Yes- yes, sir.”
“Close- but not it. You forgot. And you’ll be punished.”
He turned you around, so your bare ass was shown. He immediately spanked you hard- it clapped around you. You let out a shout.
“It’s thank you-Professor.”
“Thank you Professor!” you cried out, feeling the sting.
“And you will get it right!”
He spanked you again, harder. The momentum made you move against the desk, feeling your ass move with it. And feeling his greedy eyes all over your exposed skin.
“Th-Thank you, Professor!” you cried.
He pulled you back up but kept your back to his chest. He kissed your cheek, fondling you from behind, whispering in your ear.
“If you don’t want another punishment-Tell me what I am-”
“You-you’re my-my-”
The words failed you. He leaned you down again and spanked you.
“You’re my professor!”
He spanked you again.
“Say it again- and say thank you-”
“Yes- yes- thank you, Professor…”
He grazed over you. Feeling you. You were catching your breath. Dripping so hard. He put his hands against your inner legs.
“The more I do this- the more I see you, the more I’m with you, the more you- you torture me. I can’t stand it- I-I have to have you, Y/N- I have to, I have to-do you- do you want-”
You lightly turned your head over to see him and could have gasped.
He unzipped his pants and lowered them. Already his cock was large and twitching. It leaked so much, that his precum made you shiver. It drizzled down and made a path down his leg. You clutched onto the desk, smiling and bracing yourself.
“Yes- take me- take me on your desk, Professor…”
He smiled, and then his hand made you bend over it again. ‘
“Spread. Your. Legs.”
You were such a horny querying mess, he touched your legs so that they spread for him. Then finally, you felt him at your entrance, and inside.
You let out a long groan- and so did he. As he got in - inch by inch.
“Yes- yes all-ah!” you cried out as he got all of himself in you.
He eased you in at first. Your legs again over. He gave a few gentle, experimental thrusts. It was slow, even sloppy. Each intrusion, poking you inside. You were making an appreciative groan. You ground your hips further against him. The room was hot and smelled thick with sex.
“There…you can take…take all your professor's cock, can you?” he growled.
“Yes-yes I can..”
He then made a sharp thrust inside and you cried out.
“Oh!”
He then experimented- hips rolling towards your ass. You let out sounds like you never heard yourself make. He then had a hand to keep you down. To keep you down And then he began to pick up. Slamming into you. Keeping you still, close, on him.
“Nrg-nrgh- yes-there-fuck-there’s my-myfuck- good litlte student-nrgh-want to please me- hrng-begging-begging to-shit-yes-yes-darling-begging for me-”
You were moaning into it. Your body shakes forward and back from his thrusts. You felt yourself spiraling. Then he slowed. He leaned down and whispered into your ear. The pleasure was at a standstill, you caught your breath as you heard his hot voice right beside you.
“You have another order- cum only when I’m about to-cum when I tell you- yes?” he demanded
“Yes!”
“Yes, are you grateful!” He moved his hands to feel your arms.
“I am- th-tahnk you, Pr-Professor.”
He went back up and began to thrust again. Slow- then medium. You let out those pornographic sounds out as he did.
“Fuck- what you do to me, darling,” he breathed out.
He let out another gasp, his voice itching up in a groan and then back down. Then he slammed into you, letting out a loud voice.
“Who is going to let you cum? Who lets you cum when you’re a good girl?” he rasped.
“My-my- fuck-professor will- will let me-cum-yes!
“Not yet- not yet-mine is-if-fuck, it’s building.-”
He spread your legs wide and entered you. Then he grabbed your hips. He began to pound into you. The desk shaking- the wall quivering. Slamming against that wall with a thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. He whimpered your name. You clung onto it, your knuckles popping out of you.
“Yes-Yes you are-beautiful little student- you are-g-grateful- fuck.-tight-so tight- shit-”
He was so deep, just rutting into you. He was an animal. Pure fucking you into the desk You felt the itch of his suit- the deepness of it. The papers scrambling away- scratching you. The pure ecstasy of it.
“And” thrust “tell me-” thrust “tell me this”- thrust “darling-”
He laced a hand, it reached your folds. You let out a whimper. He dug around- two fingers in-already feeling you. God- you weren’t going to last. He wasn’t going to like it, but you weren’t going to last. You let out a whimper as you felt him inside you.
“What” thrust “ is it” thrust”- “what is it- good” thrust “good girls do- ”thrust
“They-they-they get to-to-to come, Professor-”
“Yes! Yes-you're at my-my limit-gods-gods- what you do to me-You’ve been good-so good- I can’t-I can’t-so cum, darling-”
He strummed you. And you let out another intense gasp. He was strumming you. His fingers making you more open, his cock in, out, in out. You felt it build- he played with your clit so much. Trying the right place, You felt it rise, but not there. And he kept thrusting. A frustration in his rasp.
“Yes- dammit- why won’t you now? Why won’t-won’t you cum?! Cum, dammit- cum- darling- fuck, fuck- god- yes, gods, I’m there…I’m getting there, cum, dammit- why won’t you cum…”
With a new fury, he pounded against you into the desk- the filthiest, most intense thing you felt. The pleasure building up you, going up, up about to be out of control.
“I’m- I’m going to-I’m going to-I’m going to cum, professor I-I-I”
It would spiral up, yes, but you had yet to reach it. You ground your hips further, moving from his thrusts, as his fingers were there- finding you at the still of your high and just needing your brink.
“Yes- God, yes-cum, darling-I order you, your professor orders you-Yes- yes, cum, girl, dammit- do it, cum, darling- fuck, I’m about to- do it- CUM!” he deamnded like a yell.
With a last shout you cried- “PROFESSOR!” and you came.
Spiraling down from the pleasure. It broke into chills over you-your voice left you and yet your heart was racing. You could feel him gushing into you and yet you could also feel the cum from your own body between your legs, on his fingers. He panted. He then moved you over. You saw his hair wild and arrayed. You moved it out of his face.
He looked at you with a sweet smile then took your hand and kissed it. He sat you down on a chair and took off his jacket- putting it over you like a cape. Then he went over and got you a glass of water from the pitcher.
His voice had softened, he kept touching your face, checking for any accidental bruises or marks.
“How are you? Are you…are you alright, Y/N? I didn’t go too…too-”
“You were perfect- it was perfect,” you replied with a smile. The water wasn’t super cold- but it was fresh.
He let out a sigh of relief. He then cupped your cheek.
“You should see yourself how I see you. You’re glowing. Absolutely glowing-I had only hoped you were…were happy with it…”
He looked down at the ruined bra and panties.
“I’ll buy you another…” he muttered in apology.
“Oh- an orgasm and dinner and new bra and panties? You spoil me rotten already!” you teased.
He gave you a kiss on the forehead and then he helped you back to dressing.
“Here-we could…go back to my place and order something. At this rate, it might get late. I’m not that good of a cook-I was hoping a restaurant would impress you. I hope you don’t mind…”
“How could I, Professor?” you added, taking your hand in his.
Hot for Teacher (Professor! Tom Hiddleston x fem! Reader Oneshot)
Summary: After being private about your relationship, your professor boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston, introduces you to his students.
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Some thirsty comments and cursing, but no smut. Established relationship and lots of fluffy moments. Grammar and spelling mistakes that slipped past me. Reader not being a student and being an Adult Adult (tm). A big fancy ball because I decided not some hum drum party was gonna do. (I'm the writer, I can do what I want). I rip off YouTube comments and Ana Huang and stuff I see on Tiktok and Instagram.
A/N: For @holdmytesseract's request! I am sorry this took a while due to stuff happening, but here it is!!!
You always visited the campus coffee shop on Mondays at 10 am to overhear students being thirsty for your boyfriend. You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at their comments. They were leaving their English Literature Survey class. Only they weren’t discussing books.
“Sooo nice of him to lower the word count for the essay, he knows it’s a lot.”
“Holy crap, did you see how tight his shirt was today? I could practically see his titties.”
“He needs to quote Shakespeare again. I think I’m developing a kink.”
“If I caught my girl in bed with Professor Hiddleston, I’d tuck him in.”
“If I was at the club and Professor Hiddleston was hitting on my girl, I’d start to cry…because he didn’t choose me.”
“I’m a hardcore lesbian, but Professor Hiddleston is on my cheat card.”
“I’m a hardcore asexual, but Professor Hiddleston is so hot that if I had to get pregnant I’d want him to do the honors.”
You sipped up your drink, sitting in a far corner. Smiling bright as you heard them. Stifling a laugh so hard you could feel your drink always threatened to snort out of your nose. You would cup your face, ensuring they didn’t take note of you. Even get out the notes app on your phone to type them down. Not that you’d ever show him.
He was their hot Professor. But to you, he was just Tom.
Just Tom. A boyfriend who cared for you respected you, and listened to you. Who did the bare minimum and so much more. They didn’t know his flaws, living with each other's smells and body odors and functions and insecurities. And the little, beautiful moments that made you all the more in love with him. How you would both go to bookstores and geek out after certain works, make a mess in the kitchen trying a new recipe, or stay in your pajamas until 1 pm watching something on the TV. Did they know how loud he snored at night? Or how sensitive his neck was? Or that he was fidgety if he sat too long?
Then one of them said “His girlfriend is one lucky ass bitch. I wonder what she’s like?”
“Oh…he hasn’t said anything about a girlfriend, do you think…he’s single?!” one asked.
They all shot up like meerkats with big smiles.
You froze, only staring quietly at your drink.
Tom didn’t talk about you in class. Nothing. Nada. Goose eggs. They didn't know you existed.
So far you were sure they were not little homewreckers- not successfully, at least. You trusted Tom and he trusted you and his students respected his boundaries. But he blocked them on social media so they wouldn’t dig anything about him. Tom was a private person and he wanted that to be respected by his students.
When you both met to hang out and make dinner later that evening- his special Spaghetti bolognese recipe, he gave you a hug and kiss on your head.
“Oh, you missed a spot!” you teased.
His eyes crinkled beneath his glasses.
“Oh- uh,” he voiced out.
You dived in to kiss him on the lips, his beard scratching your chin.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Oh, just fine. Your students were…wondering about me today. I saw them at the shop.”
“They didn’t recognize you?”
“No- they don’t know what I look like. Or about me, period…we’ve kept it that way…”
Both of you got into the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves and preparing the pasta and sauce. It smelled of garlic, onion, and olive oil, making your stomach rumble. How easily smelling that in a kitchen could solve all of your problems!
He smiled at you. Then, as the pasta was set to boil in the pot, he turned to you. His sleeves rolled up (making you giddy inside) and his face was a little flushed from the heat of the steam from cooking.
“My angel, I don’t want to keep you in hiding- and you shouldn’t.”
“Tom, what do you mean?” you asked. You stirred the sauce, then tapped the spoon and set it on a jar for attempted cleanliness.
I love you. And this is a part of my life…would you like to meet them? I promise you, they won’t hurt you. I won’t let them!”
He went up to hug you from behind and you watched the simmering food.
You paused, taking in a breath. What were you afraid of? Were you ashamed of Tom or being with him? No, not a bit.
You turned around to face him.
“They’re college kids. They’re basically puppies…I think I’d like to meet them.” you agreed
You both decided what event it should be that you would meet them. There were events called Bookish Balls that were all the rage now. It was a prom for adults. Proms where everyone dressed like fantasy characters and showed off costumes and even cosplays. It was everything from complex armor to a dress with some elf ears on.
You knew he had a Shakespearean-era outfit from a play he did that he kept you just had to find the right look. It would be more exciting and less creepy then if you jumped on them at the mall like a pair of stalkers.
And the ball looked like fun.
You and Tom both arrived. He was in his Shakespearean garb and crown. You had your own outfit- you adored it. You couldn’t help but look at each large mirror you walked by as you walked down the dim hallways with carpeted floors.
All the students were talking about it- tickets were 60 percent off for students. Since they were all raving about these hot new fantasy books between their required reading of Dickens. They all rattled their iced coffees like maracas and gossiped and shared pics of their outfits on their phones every day before class according to Tom. Most of them would all be there.
Little did they know their Professor was going to be there, as well as his girlfriend.
You both arrived at the fine, fancy hotel. Tom was dressed in his leather doublet and pants with a large cape and a grand crown. Ever the king. You had splurged on the fancy outfit you wanted badly- and you felt as if you were a heroine in a story as you walked through.
“You look stunning- they’re going to adore you,” Tom assured you.
You hoped so. If they met you and humiliated you in some way tonight or after, you would move to Antarctica and learn to speak penguin.
Taking his arm and feeling like royalty, you both went down the fine large building. You saw people gathered. There were some stage lights and the large gala room had trees with flowers everywhere as well as thrones, little game booths photo booths, and a banquet. And, of course, a packed dance floor. A live band played. Many people wore crowns and wings and elf ears and were dancing away with zeal. Women twirled their ballgown skirts with smiles so big it lit them up. Many flicked their capes dramatically or wrapped around them like blankets. There were fairy lights and glitter everywhere and there were photo ops and even a costume contest. It was in full sway.
Including a crowd that included Tom’s students. They jumped up in time to the song, breathlessly singing along to every word.
Tom held out your hand, both of you feeling like the king and queen looking over their jubilant subjects. You both walked down. Hoping your outfit looked as nice on you as you hoped it would.
The song was entering its last chorus. The student's backs were turned and their capes and wings were bouncing as they danced. They hadn’t noticed you yet.
He went to his group of students and cleared his throat. At once they turned their heads.
They looked at him and then you and their jaws dropped.
Tom said.“hello, here is Y/N, my beautiful, amazing girlfriend.” He then leaned you in and gave you a kiss on the cheek.
All of their eyes bugged out of their skulls and jaws dropped like broken nutcrackers among them.
You were worried the girls in the group would glare at you like they were going to rip out your stomach intestines.
But instead, all of them collapsed into a collective “AAaaaaawwwwwww, hello!” and “What?! WHAT?!” Their eyes flitted toward Tom in tight leather (who wouldn’t?) and you in your presence.
You went up like in any social situation. You gave them a smile- warm, genuine, polite, and friendly.
“Hi there, it’s nice to meet you- I heard all about you guys!”
You shook their hands. You got to meet them and learn names- Kelly, Hailey, Jessie, Emily, Daniel, Isaiah, Chase, Cameron, Kat, Miranda, Edgar, and so many more your head spun. But you eventually got it with practice.
But they let you dance with them. Be relaxed and have fun. It moved from a band to a playlist of all the classic dance songs. The band blasted Single Ladies and the girls invited you, dragging you in. You tried to copy the moves from the music video, but couldn’t quite and they all burst into laughter anyway.
It then slowed down- it was a ballad, the Cody Fry song about falling in love being like a symphony.
“Well…could I have a dance with my lady?” Tom asked, holding out his hand.
They gasped and looked at you.
“Oh, what a gentleman! I’d be delighted!” you said, accepting his hand.
They let you and Tom have a slow dance- how handsome he looked in the light, beaming at you. They smiled as if they were watching a rom-com at the end. There were no angry glares- at most, some looked a little reflective and sad. But none dared interrupt the moment with you and Tom.
Would they hate you after seeing the affection?
If so, they shut their mouths and minded their beeswax about it.
There were loads of pictures- you were willing to take some (they were seeing you as the surrogate Adult Adult more than their adults) and they included you in some, including some selfies.
Tom excused himself and returned with even brought you a little plate of food. a plate full of little sandwiches, cheeses, and fruits. You both rested your feet and shared some, feeling their eyes on you. For dessert, there were some gooey brownies that melted in your mouth. Tom eagerly grabbed some, his large hands packing as many brownies as he could.
But you realized his beard had streaks of chocolate brownies on it, you burst into laughter and you heard some giggling from the students too.
“Oh, let me take care of that!” you offered.
You got out a handkerchief and wiped it off of him. You definitely heard “awwwws” in the distance. Looking at it, his beard was now clean.
“There you go! But dashing as always!” you said.
He held your hand and kissed it. The “AWWWWWS” got louder in the back and you both had to suppress your laughter.
Rejoining the students, you saw them less as little judges or would-be homewreckers. You got to talk to them. Maybe you judged them harshly- you remembered being in college when you were that young too. Of course, they grumbled about the coursework sometimes and you gave your own insight.
“Oh- you’re seriously reading Persuasion? Oh, just wait! Austen takes some time to get used to when you read her stuff- read them slowly and you will catch onto what’s happening! The yearning in that one is beautiful” you encouraged a distraught Hailey.
You even discussed what fantasy books they were into and got some more recommendations for your ever-growing TBR. And at the end, every last person in the crowd gathered and danced. You and Tom joined the students with big grins and aching feet, but you wouldn’t stop until that last song ended its phrase. No drama. No pettiness. And no hiding. No fear. Just people at a party. Young and happy and alive.
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😈😈😈
ch summary: As (Y/N) and Tom have their first out of class conversation, she is eager to find out even more about her professor.
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summary: what happens when a sexy literature professor and student fall for one another over Zoom?
╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
“I saw that you pinned me during class...”
That sentence just kept playing over and over again in your head. You just couldn’t believe how in the hell you could have been caught. A couple of seconds went by before he cleared his throat and chuckled.
“How could you possibly have known that?” You asked quirking your head at the screen.
As far as you knew, it was impossible to tell if you pinned someone virtually. At least you hoped, you didn’t want your hormones and feelings get in the way of the relationship of you and your professor but now that plan was down the drain.
He chuckled again, and rubbed his head with his unbelievably large and strong looking hand. You couldn’t help imagine what that hand would looked like wrapped around your-
“It’s a new software update. We can’t have all the young ladies pinning the gentlemen in the middle of a lesson now can we?” He smirked into the screen.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
“I uh- just wanted to get a better experience of the reading. I wanted to see how others took into depth the full significance of the book. Your facial expressions for instance intensified in some part, yet dwelled on others.” You quickly made up a lie in your head to cover your tracts as he moved his eyebrows up and down once.
“Yes, of course Ms. (L/N). Of course. Sorry to cut this short but if you’d please excuse me, I have a board meeting. I do in fact run a after class study session for those who seem beyond the classification we are studying in class. Maybe you could think about joining.There’s one tommorow actually.” Tom clearly acknowledged, as you nodded your head.
“I just might do that. Have a nice day Mr. Holland.” Before his honey like voice could speak any more, you slammed your laptop shut and took a huge deep breath.
“Holy shit, that man just don’t know.” You face palmed yourself as a new idea can floating into your head. You quickly grabbed your phone off your nightstand and opened up Instagram, typing the name Thomas Holland.
An account quickly popped up, and you eagerly clicked onto it, anxious to see what his page would bring.
‘Awww his dog is so precious.’
‘Four brothers?’
‘That blonde is kinda hot.’
‘What the fuck?!’
As you scrolled onto his page, you found the most sexiest picture of him leaning on a brick wall, with jeans and a black muscular tee. “Bloody hell.” You fell back on your bed and shut your eyes, just wanting to get the image of him out of your head.
***
Toms head was going a million miles an hour during the board meeting. You were undeniably gorgeous, but still one of his students. He kept folding himself to fucking snap the imagine of you out of his head but it was impossible. He could tell you were intelligent, and in fact diligent. He saw you pinned him even before he started the reading, and that you lied to him about it.
He found that very appealing, and attractive. He could tell the feeling was already mutual. Whatever this feeling was. A crush? No. It was temptation. The temptation was so easy to go for, so easy to ask you for coffee, so easy to ask you to do so much more for him. He knew it was wrong, so he tightened his lips, and slammed his foot down on his desk.
***
You decided to go to the study session, what could possibly be wrong with getting to spend extra time with Mr. Holland. You casually signed on late, not wanting to be eager, to find Tom in a yellow polo shirt scrolling through this phone.
ch summary: When Tom and (Y/N) finally meet in real life, what will happen?
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summary: what happens when a sexy literature professor and student fall for one another over Zoom?
.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
And there he was...
He looked even better in person. He wore a brown overcoat with a black polo shirt. His hair looked heavenly, as it was swooshed back. His brown eyes scanned the cafe and once his eyes landed on you, it felt like everything was right. You smiled, even if you had your mask on, you felt your cheeks heat up. You waved at him, and he made his way over to you.
“You must be (Y/N).” He smiled and pulled out a chair from the table.
“That’s me. If you’d please excuse me, i’m waiting for my unnecessarily attractive english professor.” He let out a chuckle and sat down. He hopes you hadn’t noticed his pale skin turn slightly red.
“It’s very nice to meet you.” You extended a hand. “Don’t worry, I got tested before this so I’m negative.” You reassured as he gripped your hand.
Maybe it was a second too long, but you didn’t mind.
“I must say it’s very pleased to meet you too. You are a very intriguing person.” He nodded, and made eye contact with you.
“Intriguing. Very interesting choice of words.” You remarked as he shrugged.
“It’s true. You’re not like anyone I’ve met before (Y/N).” His words made you nervous. But a good nervous.
“I feel the same. It’s been what, a month? And It’s like i’ve known you forever.” You acknowledged back at him.
“Well there is a lot you don’t know about me hon.” He smirked, and the nickname made you clench your legs.
“Well please do inform me.” You smiled folding your hands in your lap.
**
You tried your very best to ignore the things you already found out by basically stalking him. His best mate Harrison, and four brothers Sam, Paddy and Harry. You stared life stories, just like a proper introduction.
You found out that he was only 24, which made you very relieved. The less the age gap, the difference. Tom saw people giving weird looks, but he ignores it. To others it was a date between people with a five year age difference (and what the two of you secretly wanted) but for now it was just a coffee and talk sort of situation. But the questions wouldn’t stop running through both of your minds.
Was it a date?
Before you knew it, the sky was turning a bright orange and pink color, and Tom definitely noticed you attention going off of the conversation and the onto the sunset.
“Sunsets pretty tonight eh?” He chuckled as you snapped your head back at him and giggled.
“Yeah it’s always been a thing with me. I really like them, they are so serene.” You explained to him.
“Let’s go watch it.” He suggested getting up from his seat. You were taken by suprise, from his offer, so he extended his hand which you reluctantly took. He lead you out the door.
“My car or yours?” He asked once you got into the parking lot. “I don’t care, let’s just go!” You exclaimed
**
You made it just in time to an sunflower field. You took Toms hand and ran. You too made it just in time to witness the golden hour period, your favorite time a day. As cliche as it sounds, you loved it extra now that Tom was here with you.
“It’s so beautiful.” You admired. Tom softly looks at you,
“Just like someone I know.” He smiled as he put his arm around you. You relax into his touch, feeling your stomach turn into butterflies. The sky starts to turn darker, and you swear you could fall asleep in his arms.
“Mmm (Y/N)?” You perked your head up only to find his head inches away from yours. You can almost feel his breath against yours, his hair dropping onto your forehead.
“Tom..” You barely whispered as you felt the gap between your lips grow closer and closer together. He put his palm against your cheek and caressed it, and your hand found his hair and tangled your fingers in it.
The temptation was just too goddamn hard to fight.
