#prof! tom x reader

[smolvenger]

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!!!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

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.

--:::------::------------------->◇<--------------------::------:::---

The other morning, you were back at the coffee shop. Waiting on them. Soon enough, they arrived in their band, though you remained in the corner. 

“I couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend!” Daniel gasped.

“Really?! I’m not! A man that fine can have his pick,” Kelly commented.

They began to all get iced coffees and gather around.

“She is gorgeous- didn’t you see her at that ball!? And she’s super nice!”

“Yeah…I want them to be happy and he seems so happy-”

“Oh, he is cheesing after her- you saw how he smiled?! And how he got the plate for her? Like, he’s a walking green flag!”

‘She’s so lucky!

“Listen, I am glad they’re happy…I just wish it were me…”

They all sighed and agreed,. You waited for that whole vibe of that phrase to blow away.

Then, quietly you walked over.

“Hello everyone,” you said.

They gasped and turned heads.

“YN! YN, hi!” one boy, what was his name- oh yes, Cameron!-said.

“Oh, I just wanted to pop by,” you added.

Then, Emily stood up. She got out a chair from one table and moved it over to where everyone sat .

“Do you have anywhere to be? You can…you can join us! You’re welcome to!”

You smiled at them and took a seat.

#carrie writes #professor! tom hiddleston #prof! tom x reader #prof! tom hiddleson x reader #tom hiddleston #fanfiction #fluff #fanfiction fluff #professor fanfiction #prof! tom #prof! tom hiddles #professor! tom hiddleston x you #professor! tom hiddleston imagine #professor! tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x reader #prof! tom my beloved #tom hiddleston characters #tom my beloved

[little-diable]

All to myself - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Prof and priest fics are without doubt my faves. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Another student tries to touch the reader, so Professor Riddle has to remind his TA that she is his, only his. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, oral(m), power play, profxta

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!TA!reader (1.8k words)

She felt his eyes on her, watching her every move as if he was worried about her doing something wrong, messing up his classroom. No matter what she did or touched, his eyes followed her around like a shadow. A shadow sewn to his boots, unable to escape her boss, the one whose every command she blindly followed. 

“I’ll expect your papers on my desk Friday afternoon, I won’t accept any tardiness.” Professor Riddle’s voice filled the room, instantly shutting up his chatting students. All eyes were drawn to his piercing ones, staring at the tall professor who acted like their god, the deity they’d have to worship. “If you have any further questions, find (y/n), she can help you.”

(Y/n)’s eyes snapped towards the professor, hands freezing midair. Not once had he addressed her like that in class and told his students that she could help them out, hidden in the dark corners of the room as if he was scared to share her with them. She couldn’t stop the heat from flushing through her, eyes forced back down to the book she had been combing through, highlighting the pages he had asked her to prepare. 

“I’ll see you next week.” With his last words echoing through the room, the students quickly rose to their feet, set on disappearing from the room and the professor they all feared. He watched them scurry out of the room, lips pulled into an almost satisfied smirk. 

“Did you find the pages, (y/n)?” He leaned against the desk, arms crossed in front of his chest, no longer caring about the handful of students who were still packing their things. She could only nod, unable to meet his eyes, not when she was reminded of the way he had touched her not even twelve hours ago, once again finding comfort in one another’s touch.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t about comfort for him, perhaps it was all about claiming her, about owning the young woman who had joined his class as a student last year and was now working for him as his teaching assistant. A power hierarchy she had always feared, not daring to overstep, at least not till he had made the first move, not giving her a way out. 

“Good, come to my office tonight so we can prepare for next week’s class.”

……

“Thank you so much for your help, (y/n).” A tight smile played on her lips, trying to keep her distance from the student who had found her a few minutes ago. She had been on her way to Professor Riddle’s office, carrying the books of his she had borrowed when the guy had forced her to a halt. He had instantly dropped his questions on her, smirking at the already annoyed woman. 

“Of course, now, if you excuse me, I need to find Professor Riddle.” She wanted to turn from him, wanting to disappear from the student who made her feel all too uncomfortable. But his hand darted out, fingers wrapped around her wrist to keep her close. Her breath hitched in her chest at the unwanted touch, eyes flickering from her wrist to his dark pupils. 

“Why the hurry, (y/n)? I think he can wait a few more minutes for you. Don’t you find it weird how he treats you? As if you’re some toy he owns.” Her throat felt tight, mouth too dry to reply, wanting to rip herself from the man’s grasp, though without any luck. The grasp he had on her wrist only got tighter, sure to leave marks she’d have to cover for the next days. 

“Let me go, please.” The student’s laugh was drowned out by the sound of fast-approaching steps, making a shadow appear behind (y/n)’s frame. Instantly the student let go of (y/n), trying to flee from the scene as Professor Riddle stared him down. Within seconds the professor had the guy pressed against the nearest wall, forcing a gasp from (y/n).

“If I ever catch you touching (y/n), even looking at her, I will end you. Do you hear me, Mister Kerry?” No reply left the student, unable to speak up, only able to quickly nod his head. The second the man let go of him, he fled from the scene, leaving (y/n) and the professor behind. 

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, with Professor Riddle turning towards (y/n), eyes focused on her already bruised wrist. With wide eyes she watched him carefully reach for her hand, momentarily studying her skin before he began to pull her down the hallway, straight to his office. Her heart was pounding, racing against her ribcage to try and warn the oblivious woman of the danger lying ahead. But there was no escaping, she was tied to him like a boat tied to the dock, rocking with the waves though kept in place by the tight rope. 

“How did you find me?” (Y/n)’s whispers filled his barely alight office, drawing a dangerous chuckle from the man, a sound so strong (y/n)’s body kept trembling, littered with goosebumps. 

“It’s not typical for you to be late, and I seem to find you no matter where you are. I don’t share what is mine, and especially not you.” His voice dripped with possessiveness, hand cupping her warm cheek before his lips crashed against hers, leaving the woman moaning. Within a few moments (y/n) was forced against his desk, caged between the expensive wooden craft and his tall frame. “You’re mine, mine alone, never forget that, pet.”

“I won’t. I am sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologising for, and yet it only felt right to do so. The words seemed to please the professor, studying her for another second or two before an almost teasing “Prove how sorry you are” left him. Without protesting, (y/n) dropped to her knees, glassy eyes staring up at the tall man, watching him free his already hard cock with skilled movements. 

(Y/n) parted her lips like she had done numerous times before, in this very position, for the brooding man only. He forced his cock into her mouth without another warning, finding enjoyment in her gasps, the surprise filling her eyes, the trembling of her hand. She was his pet, the one he had claimed the first time she had stepped into his office, forever his. 

“Atta, girl, such a perfect mouth.” Her hum left him groaning, ringed hand finding her hair as his head momentarily rolled back. Professor Riddle’s eyes fluttered close, enjoying the fast bobbing motion, the way her tongue took care of his ache just like he needed her to. If there was one thing (y/n) found pride in, it was satisfying the tall man, drawing these sounds from his mouth – sounds she’d think of whenever her thoughts started to wander. 

“C’mon, you can take a bit more, don’t hold back, pet.” (Y/n) struggled to take more, and yet she was set on following whatever he asked of her, trying to loosen her jaw. One tear after another spilt from her eyes, dripping down onto his expensive carpet, leaving yet another stain he’d never wipe away. She wasn’t used to hearing his praises, and yet whenever he did praise her, (y/n) hoped that her mind would never forget about these moments, cherishing every sound he made.

She felt his cock twitch in her mouth, staring up at the moaning man as her hands added more speed to their movements, pumping the parts her mouth couldn’t reach. If there was one thing she was set on, it was tasting his release, wanting him to leave his stain on her tongue before he fucked her, a wish the man wouldn’t fulfill today. He pulled away before he could give in, letting go of her hair, only to pull (y/n) to her feet. The professor manhandled her onto his table, front pushed against the cold wood as his hands pulled her trousers and panties down her legs.

“Such a messy whore for your professor, look at the way you’re dripping.” His dark chuckles left (y/n) impatiently moaning, hands clinging to the edge of the table, already preparing for the first of many ferocious thrusts. She heard him spit into his hand, once again lubing his cock up before he pushed into her from behind, drawing a moan from the both of them. 

He fucked her hard, fast, not caring about her need to adjust, or the pained whimpers leaving her. No, this was a lesson, a lesson crafted for her only, reminding the young woman that she was his, his only. No other man would ever manage to fuck her like this. No other man would ever manage to draw these sounds from her parted lips.

His toy, his pet, his woman. 

Curses left her whenever his cock managed to nudge the spot that left her seeing stars, squeezing her eyes shut to try and focus on the intimate moment, the need to feel his cock forcing her walls apart with every thrust, the ache he left behind between her legs. This wasn’t about taking their time, about cherishing one another’s closeness, this was solemnly to scratch that inch inside of them, fuelled by their possessiveness. 

“Please, oh please, professor.” A hum left the man, forcing one arm around her waist to rub her pulsing bundle, driving her closer and closer to the edge. “Please let me cum, oh god, please.” 

“Cum for me, pet. Let them hear who is fucking you, who is the only one allowed to touch you.” His name rolled off (y/n)’s tongue as she came, trying to prolong the moment for as long as possible. The professor kept snapping his hips, forcing his cock deeper and deeper, wanting to leave his stain on her walls, set on imprinting himself on her cunt. His dark, raspy moans left her gasping, feeling his hand tighten its grip on her flesh as he came inside of her, giving room to one last groan.

“You’re mine to touch, mine only, don’t you ever forget that, (y/n).”

#Tom Riddle smut #Tom Riddle imagine #Tom Riddle x reader #prof fic #Harry Potter smut

[teddynottss]

teacher tom 😍

• - MY GOOD GIRL - •

PAIRING(S): prof tom riddle x student fem. reader

WARNING(S): jealousy, smut, teacher x student, extreme dominance, age gap, pet names during sex.

SUMMARY: you and prof. tom are in a secret relationship and when one of his students invites you to the yule ball in his own class, he doesn’t let that slide and punishes u for it.

A/N: thank you smm for all the support on my last post🫶, if anyone wants to be tagged in any of my posts lmk and if you have any ideas requests are open💗.

——————————————————

This year at Hogwarts, you got a new DADA teacher, as usual, professor tom. He was handsome, he was tall and muscular, his features all defined, one look at his eyes and you’d pass out. He was calm, but wise. He was smart and quiet unkind, he was never disrespectful though.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit of attraction toward the man, and to your surprise, you would always catch him glancing at you. He would also find ways to talk to you, after tests, during class, after class, whenever he saw you in the hallways, etc…

One time he asked you to stay after class, so you admitted your feelings and he kissed you. Thats how you got in a 4 month relationship with your DADA professor, however, you couldn’t tell anyone because he was a 24 year old Slytherin professor, and you were a 7th year Gryffindor student.

You get to class early today, your last one, defense against the dark arts (DADA), and to your surprise, ur early. You take a seat next to Hermione and Cormac walks up to you.

He had a big crush on you, and everyone in the school pretty much was aware of it, students, professors, all of them.

“Hii pretty girl” he spoke with a grin. “Heyy” you reply back nicely. “So the yule ball is coming around, and if you don’t have anyone to take you, i am more than happy to take you.” he said. “Of course Cormac, I’ll definitely think about it” you smile at him. “alright beautiful” he smiles back then he coughs.

Then he coughs again, and again, and again, and again, and he’s choking! He’s on his knees, coughing hysterically. Everyone gathers around him trying to stop the cough and as your eyes dart around the room, you find professor tom stood at the door, mumbling something, he was the one doing this!

You had to make it stop, “Professor!” you call out. “Help him, he just began choking” just then, Cormac stops choking and tom sprints across the room to him. He kneels down next to him, “just take him to the medical wing, he’ll be fine” this man was insane.

Just then, Neville and Ron help take him out of the classroom and the lesson begins. The whole time, your bf doesn’t look at you at all. Was he avoiding you?

Class finishes and you decide you wanted to talk to tom about this. You were the only student who knew where his room was so you decided to go and speak to him later tonight. The time came around and you got going. The halls of Hogwarts were quiet and empty at this time, dark and silent.

You arrived and knocked on the door, he opened the door and his eyes widened at your figure. “Why did you come here?” he asks. “We need to talk” you reply as you step in the room.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS TODAY?? ARE YOU OUT OF UR MIND?? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO THE POOR GUY, HE WAS STRUGGLING!” You speak, scream is more like it. “He fucking asked my girl to go to the yule ball with him.” He states.

“He doesn’t know we’re together!”. you point out. “The only person you’re going to the yule ball with is Neville!” “My cousin, seriously?” “Yes and i don’t want anyone else coming near you within a 50 mile radius or i will rip their intestines out one by one.” he’s still speaking calmly, he never shouts, never.

“Fuckk.. why would you even say you’d think about it beautiful, don’t you know ur mine?” He gets closer. “Im gonna have to punish you.” He then places his hand on ur waist and pulls you in. He kisses you hungrily and slips his tongue inside, fighting with urs for dominance.

You wrap ur arms around his neck as the kiss deepens, he then picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bed. “Im gonna fuck this tight little pussy till you can’t walk, till everyone in Hogwarts hears my name, till Cormac learns to not touch whats not his.”

Just then, he begins removing your shirt as you stood in front of his bed. He takes his time, one by one, he removes your bra, pants, then panties.

He then pulls you in for another kiss and makes you sit on the bed, he kneels between ur legs, and he begins trailing kisses down your collarbone until reaching your breasts. He begins pleasuring both of them, starting with your left breasts. He leaves kisses all around your breast and then starts sucking on your tit.

He sucks hard, twirling his tongue around ur tit, cupping your other breast in his hand. He then moves to your other side, pleasuring it similarly. He cups the left one and pinches your tit between his fingers. You let out different sounds and moans of pleasure, loosing urself to the heat of the moment.

After he’s done, he pushes you further on the bed and he spreads ur legs, “now, tell me, whose wet pussy is this for?” he questions. “Y-yy-yours, tommy.” “Thats right, now let me show you why it’s wet, for me.”

He immediately dives in like a starved man and starts eating you out. He licks ur folds, twirling his tongue, pleasuring you well, very well.

You grab his hair, tugging at it. “Tommy, im so close,” you admit. He mumbles a quick mhmm into ur pussy and it sends shivers down ur spine. That was ur limit, you slam your hand on ur mouth, stopping urself from screaming, as you come into his mouth.

He smiles into ur pussy and swallows all you have to give, he then licks you clean before pushing two fingers in without any warning. You moan at the feeling and he immediately begins moving his fingers inside you, slowly.

He then adds a third finger and starts speeding his movement, “you will not go to the ball with anyone but neville, do u understand me.” you nod in response which he doesn’t approve of.

“Use your words darling” “i.. i won- i wont go to the ball with anyone b..but Neville” “my good girl” he says before kissing you again. This time it’s slow yet still hungry, full of lust. “You have another one in you, don’t you?” You nod and once again he sighs in disappointment. “Use ur words love” “I d.. do” you answer.

He then proceeds to speed his movement and you come for the second time tonight. He removes his fingers and shows you ur cum on his fingers before licking them clean.

You get up to the bathroom to clean urself before returning back to ur dorm. You could hardly walk, but once you got there, you turn the hot water on and jump in the shower.

A few seconds later, tom walks in with you, already stripped out of his clothes. You turn to face him and smile at him. Once he steps in, he speaks “wait here pretty girl, i said im gonna fuck u till u cant walk, till everyone hears my name, till Cormac understands to not touch whats not his, i don’t think I’ve done that yet, have i?”.

You shake ur head at him and he makes you face the wall. You feel him get closer and he breathes next to your neck, heat floods ur body as you feel his breath.

“Now listen to me, im gonna fuck you real good, but im going to need you to beg me for it.” he whispered. He then lines his throbbing, hard cock with ur entrance and starts kissing you. The kiss is heated and slow, ur tongues fighting for dominance.

“Come on riddle..” you say between kisses. “Come on what?” he teases. “Fff.. fuck me tommy please. I need you inside me, now!” “One more time beautiful.” “Fuck tom, get inside me now!” You arch ur back a bit, and to that, he smacks ur ass before pushing in you.

“Fucking brat” he spoke as he sped his movements. You cover ur mouth, blocking any sounds from leaving it when tom removes it. “I wanna hear all the pretty noises you make when i fuck you like a little whore.” To that you moan which makes him go even faster.

“Tommy.. can i c-cum p-p-p-please?” “Your third time tonight? Impressive darling, go ahead.” He speeds his thrusting, and grabs the shower head, he turns it on and he points it toward ur pussy and he rubs circles around your clit.

Just like that, you scream as you come, your nails piercing tom’s skin. “Fucking hell, doll” you both chuckled.

You later finished ur shower and ran back to ur dorm as u realized it was past curfew already.

#tom riddle #harry potter #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #slytherin boys #slytherin

[markiefiles]

— AUTORIDADE

fem reader x mark lee

avisos: professor!mark (de inglês), diálogos inglês, tensão sexual (?), dirty-talk, bigdick, uma menção a spit, professor de faculdade☝️, ambos maiores de idade apesar da idade não especificada.

notas: isso aqui foi um surto após eu escutar uns áudios do rum (um dos primeiros dele é ele sendo tutor de matemática) e pensei “ok… mark fala inglês… mark professor de inglês….” então tá aqui essa confusa pouca vergonha. btw inspirado também numa época onde eu tinha um crush no meu antigo prof de inglês, a última vez que falei com ele foi em 2023 depois de me formar (ele era tãooooo legal…). perdão pelo inglês porco gente ☝️

Mesmo que nunca tenha conversado o bastante nas aulas avançadas de inglês, sua gramática era ótima, você era aplicada de um jeito irritantemente técnico.

O término das aulas era sempre um problema. Não porque depois de todo um estudo você teria que ir pra faculdade, mas sim porque, seu professor de inglês, Mark Lee, te deixava nervosa.

Ele era excepcionalmente didático, a pronúncia perfeita te deixava de pernas bambas; tinha o modo descontraído, como ele conversava com os alunos dos mais novos aos mais velhos, acompanhando o ritmo de todos, ele arrancava o inglês de qualquer um sem que percebessem. Era muito divertido ir para as aulas, a dinâmica te incentivava…

E o professor também.

Mais um final de aula, alguns alunos tiravam suas dúvidas, mas você esperava que o professor Mark prestasse atenção somente em ti. Talvez soasse menos humilhante, não gostava de toda essa atenção.

Você permaneceu sentada na cadeira, as pernas expostas roçando uma na outra, aguardando pacientemente os últimos dois colegas de turma saírem. A mente viajou um pouco, parecia desatenta.

Mark olhou pra você, deu um gole na garrafa d’água mas não desgrudou os olhos de ti, em silêncio veio ao teu encontro, perguntou “Algum problema, querida?” e você soltou um sorriso, desviou os olhos e achou fofo todo carinho… O seu quarto ano com ele.

— Sim. — você respondeu — Na verdade, tenho algumas dúvidas sobre a prova de admissão…

— Mesmo? Não acho que seja um problema pra você.

— Por que não seria?

— Apesar de não falar com o restante da sala, você é incrivelmente boa em gramática, suas notas são boas.

— Não sei… talvez eu precise de um incentivo, quero aprender a falar como você, Mark.

Vocês, mais uma vez, trocaram olhares, longos, talvez um tentando ler a mente do outro. Mark mostrou-se pensativo, suspirou, balançou a cabeça e valseou pela sala, trancando a porta. Um calor incômodo tomou conta do seu corpo, você prendeu o ar no peito, a barriga revirando.

— Quero que olhe nos meus olhos enquanto conversamos, certo? Quero respostas só em inglês.

— Claro, o que você quiser professor.

Sua resposta foi ambígua, um tom sexual que deixou-o enervado. Ele sentou-se ao seu lado, fez algumas perguntas e você respondeu-as de maneira muito direta, ainda que tivesse certa hesitação na sua voz.

Tudo em você, no seu comportamento pareceu satisfazê-lo.

Então você se levantou e caminhou pela sala o observou de longe, sentou na mesa dele e esse silêncio o indispôs. Mark te seguiu, parou de frente para você, as palmas dele nas laterais da mesa, fechando seu corpo no dele; o peito dele batendo contra o seu. Muita intimidade.

Um arrepio corroeu o sustento das tuas pernas, você quase gemeu ao sentir a tensão que se formava debaixo da sua saia, entre vocês dois.

“...You look like you’ve got something to say” Mark disse, sussurrando. Você fechou os olhos, revirou por baixo das pálpebras e soltou o ar quente pelos lábios, tocou a gravata dele suspensa no ar. Você pensou…

E repensou várias vezes.

“Want you to teach me how to dirty talk.”

Mark te observou, o brilho nos olhos dele demonstravam certo controle. Você sentia que estava prestes a tombar na mesa com a proximidade, seus lábios quase se tocando, o hálito roçando um no outro.

“Is that why you spend so’much time looking at me, pretty? Fantasizing about your professor?” Ele te perguntou e você pareceu muito confusa, entendeu exatamente o que Mark disse mas não respondeu. “You’re so fucking naughty, my dear.”

Aí, suas pernas prenderam a cintura dele, os dedos dele te tocaram e você gemeu, desfez muito rapidamente o nó da gravata, o beijou ansiosa e Mark retribuiu, com fome. Ele te deitou sobre a mesa, brincou com o elástico da sua calcinha e você soltou uma risada, murmurou “Porr—” mas foi interrompida.

Mark apertou suas bochechas, cuspiu na sua boca e te relembrou “English, sweetheart.” Você engoliu, obediente.

Você sentiu uma umidez na sua calcinha, amolecida, escorregou pela mesa e mudou sua posição, seu rosto em contato com a madeira, esfregando a bunda contra a ereção de Mark.

“Fuck… you have such a pretty ass, sweetie” você soltou mais um repuxar zombeteiro, Mark expôs sua bucetinha e voltou a te esbanjar elogios, com um dos dedos, provocou sua entrada traseira “Your pussy is dripping, babe… hmm bet you wanna me to fuck that juicy ass of yours too.”

“Mark… don't tease me, just… just— fuck me already.” Você choramingou, sentiu uma das mãos dele nos seus seios, explorando cada parte do seu corpo.

As palmas dele correram para seus lábios, te mantendo quieta, ele esbofeteou a pele da sua bunda, te impondo regras “No, sweetie. Repeat with me, professor Mark, I’m the authority here” e você moveu a cabeça, mordeu os lábios e afirmou “Oh— ‘kay professor Mark”.

Concentrado, Mark voltou a brincar com suas dobras, o tom cínico da risada te fez contrair levemente, ele rosnou, espancou seus lábios melados antes de forçar sua entradinha com o pênis dele, que, até então, você não tinha visto.

Você choramingou desesperada, a espessura deixando suas pernas tão trêmulas que Mark achou patético seus joelhos um contra o outro.

“You’re so cute, baby. That tight cunt of yours getting me soo well…” Você rebolou fortemente contra ele, sentiu os dedos perfurando a carne da sua bunda, precisava de mais “M’gonna be addicted to this pussy, right? Shit— Bet you can't even think straight right now, just love being destroyed by my huge cock, yeah?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Yeah, yeah, P-Professor.”

“You’re so fucking cockdrunk, whore.”

Mark praticamente afundava sobre sua bucetinha, sentia suas paredes o esmagando sem que você notasse o aperto e umidez. Suas pernas já não aguentavam mais, ameaçando ceder, a porra e seu mel sujando o chão, espirrando contra a calça dele e sua pele. Vocês dois eram uma completa bagunça.

“Mark..!” Você exclamou, o orgasmo te deixando em um só fio de voz, a garganta seca. Mark sentiu seu canalzinho o apertar, ele praticamente enterrou o pau em ti, partindo seus lábios ao meio, completamente alucinado, vendo o entra e sai frenético, sem que houvesse pausas. Ele soltou um gemido áspero, imobilizou seu quadril e permaneceu dentro de ti, seu clitóris contorcendo sem ter sido tocado.

As têmporas estavam suadas, o cabelo preto desfeito junto com os botões da calça e camiseta. Mark te olhou e mais uma vez você pode ouvir aquela risadinha gostosa, malandra. Ele serpenteou os lábios até seu rosto, beijou sua boca e disse “Let me help you.”

Você aceitou quieta, a saia cobrindo parcialmente a visão das suas pernas arruinadas.

— Cadê minha… calcinha…?

Mark te olhou, o português alto e claro relembrando o antes da situação. Ele mostrou o pedaço de pano, guardou no bolso e você corou, gozadora..

— E papéis pra… sabe… me limpar?

— Que? Absolutamente não.

— Como assim?

— Você vai ficar com minha porra guardada aí, até chegar em casa, querida.

— Mark–

— Me deixe falar o restante — Ele se aproximou, ajeitou a gravata, colocou os fios para trás, como se nada tivesse acontecido.

— Sim.

— Se você passar na prova de admissão, eu fodo seu cuzinho.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee x you #mark lee smut #mark lee imagines #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #nct smut #nct imagines

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Professor Tom Riddle x male reader where Tom becomes some sort of a parental figure to reader? Pretty please with a cherry on top? 😔🤞

Injured - Prof. T. R. x platonic male!Reader

A/N: I hope this is along the lines of what you were thinking of. I had a really hard time coming up with some Prof. Riddle fluff for some reason. It’s unedited, with no use of Y/N

CW: mentions of injury, boasting, platonic banter, fluff

503 words

“Professor!” You immediately brighten as Professor Riddle makes his way through the labyrinth of hospital beds. “I almost thought you wouldn’t show up!”

You’re Tom’s favorite student; an overachieving boy with a bit of a prideful personality, just like him. It makes you shine in the classroom, but pale in other areas.

Such as your quidditch skills.

You’re in the Hospital Wing for an injury to the ribs after a particularly grueling quidditch game. You’ve been in for a few days, and Tom has shown up at least once each day.

It’s becoming a bit of a regular thing, him coming to visit you. You’re sure you’ll miss it when you’re healed.

“How are you feeling today?” he greets you, moving to sit in the chair next to your bed. “You look much better since yesterday.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug dismissively, then wince at the pain in your ribs. “What can I say? I’m a fast healer.”

Tom’s mouth twitches in amusement. “Quite on the contrary, you heal slower than the rest of your team.”

“Well, I’m the one who took a bludger straight to the ribs.” You cross your arms defensively, careful not to disturb the bandages around your chest. “Maybe it’s a wound that needs more time to heal.”

“Maybe…” He arches an eyebrow, a sure sign he’s about to tease you. “Or maybe you’re not the best at everything.”

You gasp, then cough a little as the sharp inhale sends starbursts of pain through your ribs. “Don’t you dare! I am the best at everything I do! I am the ultimate champion at life!”

Tom coughs into his fist, clearly trying to hide a laugh. “Oh, are you?”

“Don’t deny me my title! I will defend it with my life! It is mine by divine right!”

You’re fully prepared to go off on a rant about just how awesome you are, when a look from Madame Pomfrey shuts you up.

“But,” you mutter hastily, “I’ll do that some other time.”

Tom chuckles, and rests a hand on your shoulder. “A wise choice. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

You grin. “Thanks, Prof. You always do know how to cheer me up.”

He gives you an amused smile and settles back into his chair. “I brought the next book in the series you’re reading, if you care for me to read it.”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, yeah! That would be great!”

You lie back in your bed, getting as comfortable as you can as he pulls out the book. As he begins to read, you close your eyes, letting his smooth, engaging voice wash over you.

Before you realize it, you’ve fallen asleep, dreaming of a quidditch game where you win the House cup and achieve victory for your team.

Tom watches you sleep for a moment before getting up. He leaves the book by your bed, turning to leave.

With a nod to Madame Pomfrey and one last watchful look over you, Professor Riddle leaves the Hospital Wing, secure in his knowledge that you are healing just fine.

#tom riddle #professor tom riddle #male reader #platonic reader #divider by cafekitsune #reader is from an unspecified hogwarts house #tom riddle x male reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #professor tom riddle x reader #professor tom riddle x you

[lokiforever]

New teachers at School 🏫❤️

Pairing: Prof!Tom Hiddleston x Student!Reader

Summary: In a world where academia meets unexpected romance Y/N finds herself captivated by a brilliant and enigmatic professor, Tom Hiddleston. As they navigate through the complexities of academia, a deep connection begins to form between them, transcending the boundaries of student-teacher dynamics. Amidst the exhilarating lectures and intimate conversations, Y/N discovers facets of Tom's personality that extend far beyond his reputation as an esteemed professor. Together, they embark on a journey of self-discovery, challenging societal norms, and ultimately unraveling the delicate threads of their own hearts. Will they succumb to the forbidden allure of their connection, or will they choose to tread a path that defies all expectations? This fanfic delves into the emotional labyrinth of their evolving relationship, as the line between student and teacher blurs, and love ignites in the most unexpected of circumstances.

Series Masterlist

🏫❤️ Chapter 1

🏫❤️ Chapter 2

🏫❤️ Chapter 3

🏫❤️ Chapter 4

🏫❤️ Chapter 5

🏫❤️ Chapter 6

🏫❤️ Chapter 7

🏫❤️ Chapter 8

🏫❤️ Chapter 9

🏫❤️ Chapter 10

Taglist:

@holdmytesseract @dishahaldar@lotsoflokilove23 @eleniblue @clevergirl@jennyggggrrr @imlokisgloriouspurpose

#hiddlesarmy #professor hiddleston #professor hiddleston x reader #professor x student #tom hiddleston

[inanotherlifeicouldbewithyou]

can someone please write a prof!tom wlaschiha x reader - I don't have any inspo for it other than the idea itself

if nothing else, I will take prompt ideas for it and will take 2-3 business months to complete it :)

#tom wlaschiha

[bewareofthecrazyperson]

Insufferable little minx

Summary: You and your professor don't really see eye to eye. Problem is, he's smoking hot. Tension is rising. What happens when you two meet in a completely different setting?

Warnings: Smutttttt , curse words.

Pairing: Prof!Tom Hiddleston x reader

When you're little, or just a teenager, a crush on a teacher tends to be quite harmless. It is something your friends tease you with and you get a bit flustered when the teachers talks to you. However, when you get older, attend university and sometimes teachers are a little closer to your age, or you know, you're legal and it isn't as strange anymore.. things tend to get more complicated. There is no innocence in it. Things become more tense rather quickly and before you know it, you're masturbating to your History of Science teacher.

Worse part is, you're quite certain that he hates you. You're a smart mouth, not afraid to show people around you who you are and that you are smarter than they are. Not in an arrogant way, but you're just confident. And there was that one moment where your professor challenged you, and being the confident person you are, you weren't afraid to show him just how much your knowledge reached. From that moment on you just knew he hated you. The way he would look at you. There was a certain sparkle in his eyes. Not the one he would have when he was passionately speaking about his subject, it was a different sparkle. Passionate hate. As if he couldn't wait to humiliate you right in front of the class. And while you were willing to lie down on his lap and have him spank your ass red, you were certain it was a different type of humiliation he had in mind.

Professor Hiddleston was a handsome man. His features, his glance, the way his pants seemed to accentuate quite a lot.. At least, you were able to use that in your fantasies. When he sat behind his desk, legs spread just a little. That man was able to use you for your body and you'd thank him.

But right now, you had to focus on whatever his lips were saying. He was speaking quite passionately about something, avoiding your glance it seemed. Whenever he asked a question about his subject, he would look around the classroom, arching an eyebrow when he glanced at you, before giving someone else a turn. He hadn't forgotten his encounter with you. Friday "I expect you all to choose a certain period in time, explain why you choose it and elaborate about it. Why is is important to you, and why was it important in time”, Tom.. professor Hiddleston stood up. His arms crossed in front of his chest while he eyed the packed classroom. "Minimum of 10 pages. At my desk next friday", and with that he turned around. "I expect you all to choose a certain period in time, explain why you choose it and elaborate about it. Why is it important to you, and why was it important in time”, Tom.. professor Hiddleston stood up. His arms crossed in front of his chest while he eyed the packed classroom. "Minimum of 10 pages. At my desk next friday", and with that he turned around.

Damn him and his perfect ass.

What was he saying? Something about an assignment. You nudged your friend next to you, asking her to repeat it. But before you could get a proper answer out of her, the professor was standing in front of you. If his pants would be any tighter.. You quickly glanced up, not wanting to stare at his crotch for too long. "I would love it if you'd not interrupt me (Y/N)", he arched an eyebrow. He was enjoying this. “Not everyone is as smart as you are”, the bastard. You rolled your eyes, having to bite your lip in order to keep quiet. The class seemed amused. Of course. Not wanting to cause a scene you just nodded, you were going to ask your friend later. What was it about him, he was sexy, his swagger.. his demeanor, you wanted to wipe that cocky smile off of his face, with your own lips.

When you were all dismissed, you'd talk to your friend, exchange some notes and she mentioned the assignment professor Hiddleston had talked about. Of course you had to daydream about his ass the moment he would mention something like that.

The day went smoothly after that. Pretty quickly to be honest. It was a Friday so fortunately for you, you were able to relax. No big schedule for school, and the only assignment you would focus on was that of professor Hiddleston. And that could wait till Sunday. After all you had the whole week to focus on it. This night was to wind down from the stress that your studies brought you, and what better way than to use alcohol and loud music.

You weren't sure why, but you went all out. Took a shower, shaved, curled your hair, put on your makeup. Heck your eyeliner was perfect, the red lips, the black dress. Everything was looking amazing. You were feeling gorgeous, no, you are gorgeous. You would attract so much attention. Professor Hiddleston would be on his knees if he saw you like this, you were certain. Not that you'd run into him. There would be plenty of handsome men you'd run into tonight. Tonight was not the night for a one-nightstand. Just for fun, your friends, and whatever the heck was going to happen.

It was cold. The leather jacket you were wearing slightly chill against of your skin. The black dress perfect clung to your skin. Your heels. Fuck why were you wearing heels again. You and some of your friends had chosen a bar that was quite well known around your fellow students. The place was packed, the coldness of outside immediately forgotten as you moved inside. Maneuvering inside around all the bodies before finding a spot where all of you could drink, dance, laugh.. maybe kiss a couple of people.

Three shots in and you were laughing your ass off. One of your friends was already kissing someone in the corner of the bar. You had been offered multiple drinks, some people had given you their numbers, yet somehow.. they weren't really interesting enough. Maybe the cocktail you were drinking would make things, people, more interesting to you. The night was becoming a blur. Time was passing quickly, your friends had left. Whether they were hooking up with someone, or they were tired. Either way, you were sitting on one of the barstools, nurturing your third cocktail. You were certain that if you'd have to walk home right now, it would take twice as long. The heels weren't going to be easy to walk on.

After turning down another person, you huffed, finishing your drink and straightening your back. However the man you had just turned down couldn't seem to accept the word no. He sat down next to you, hand on your lower back, toying around with the fabric. "Oh but you definitely should let me buy you a drink", you weren't certain what it was. But the man disgusted you. Or maybe it was the alcohol you had mixed together. All you knew was that you wanted him away, and you'd need some water to make sure you wouldn't be sick, or have a major headache the next morning. "No, please kindly fuck off", you heard a chuckle. Not from the man next to you, but behind you. "Doesn't she have a way with words", the man behind of you mentioned, such a familiar voice. It took you a while to realize, however before you could react, professor Hiddleston was sitting next to you.

"Oh fuck", you cursed, confused that he would even sit next to you now. However it made the other man go away and you were thankful for that. You weren't sober enough for this.. Why had you gotten yourself so many shots. There was water in front of you and you gulped it down rather quickly. Not questioning why it was in front of you. "The hell are you doing here", this wasn't the plan. He wasn't supposed to be here. Or was this all your imagination? "It is Friday, am I not allowed to have a drink and celebrate that it is weekend?" you just shrugged at that, looking down at your heels. Fuck they were high. And your dress was all the way to your thighs. No wonder there had been so many men around of you. You waved at the bartender, asking for another glass of water while fixing your dress.

"Let me rephrase", oh damn, how were you suddenly speaking so well again. The whole evening seemed like a blur, and now all of the sudden you were feeling quite clear. "Why are you next to me. I thought you hated me", ah.. so you weren't completely sober yet. Otherwise your brain would have stopped you from being so.. honest. Professor Hiddleston chuckled at that, he seemed way more sober than you were, damn him. Damn him and his.. shirt. Was he always this muscular? Honestly his pecks were showing through his shirt. "I do not hate you", he confessed, "however, you can be quite annoying. Very persistent, and very talented." Did the man just compliment you?

You were flabbergasted. This was fake. You would wake up in the next few seconds. Confused and frustrated. However when you bit down on your lip, harder than intended, you felt pain. Apparently this was real? "You have had too much to drink", when you turned to look at him again, the look in his eyes was different. There was that sparkle again in his eyes. The one he had whenever he was looking at you in class. The.. hatred. "Don't bite your lip like that", the professor seemed conflicted for a moment, "I see the way you look at me." Well fuck, you felt exposed. What was that. He had noticed the way you had looked at him. You wondered whether this was going to be a conversation about appropriate behavior in the classroom.

Well fuck, you weren't in the mood for that. You finished the glass of water and magically managed to stand on your heels and turn around. If he didn't hate you, like he claimed, he would for sure hate you now for leaving him like this. "I'm sorry", you mumbled, wobbling your way to the exit. Shit where was your jacket. It was freezing outside. No way you were going to go inside now, facing your professor again after he called you out like that. You heard his words in your head again, I see the way you look at me, fuck. How were you ever able to go to his class? You were panicking. Nerves in your stomach making you regret that you had taken multiple shots. You felt like throwing up. Felt like taking off your heels and run. However you'd cut your feet open on the broken glass on the ground, or slip and break something.

"Walk with me", a warm fabric moved around of your shoulders. This wasn't your jacket. The professor had his hand on your back, guiding you towards the parking lot. "I do not mean to be inappropriate", you panicked, still, yet let him guide you to his car. "We are way passed that dear", fuckfuckfuck. Professor Hiddleston drove off, heading somewhere you were unfamiliar with. "What is happening?" you put your seatbelt on, moving your hands up towards the fabric that was around your shoulders, keeping you warm. When you glanced at your professor you realized he had his coat around of you. "I have had enough of your behavior in class, and then you dare showing up in such a dress. Gaining the attention of every person inside of that bar. Ignoring me like you aren't undressing me with your eyes every class we have?" he glanced at you, his jaw set, knuckles clenching the wheel. "You show up to class, cleavage visible, sometimes not even wearing a bra. Getting me worked up and leaving me frustrated after every lecture", OH. Oh this was going a complete different direction. One you had not seen coming.

The drive was tense. There sexual tension in the air thick. You kept on clenching your legs together. Fuck you were wet already. The man hadn't even touched you, or promised to touch you. His voice, his words already had such a reaction on you. You worried you'd need to keep a water bottle nearby if he would touch you.

When the car came to a stop, the professor turned to you. Seatbelt still on. "If you do not want this. We can drive to your home and pretend like this has never happened", he offered. You blinked, dumbfounded, as if you had not heard him right. "I", why were you questioning yourself? Why were you even thinking about this. You had wanted this for so long. Wanted to feel how his hands would feel on your bare skin. How his lips felt on your skin. How he would look like, while having his release. Shit. "Please, stop biting your lip. I can't help myself any longer", he pleaded, yet you put any doubt aside, leaning over and grabbing his face so you could finally kiss him. Taste him. Feel the passion of the man that had haunted so many dreams of yours.

The seatbelt, that fucking seatbelt, was in the way. You moved your hips, trying to get closer but you couldn't. His hands, damn his hands, were on your hips, squeezing your skin as he continued to kiss you. Soon there was tongue. He was eager, you could tell. The way he was elevated from his seat, pulling you closer as his tongue evaded your mouth.

He was quick to push you back. Everything was going so fast. Your cheeks were red, pulse elevated, and your panties were soaked.

The way from the car to his house was a mess of lingering touches. Lips finding yours, whispers being said. You struggled walking, damn heels, but the professor was clever enough, lifting you until you were inside. With the door closed and having full privacy inside of his house, there was nothing holding you back, nor him. Your heels were the first item he pulled off of you, hands sliding along your legs, teasing along the edge of your dress before he pulled you against him. "Been thinking about you for so long", he admitted, lips on your neck. "Professor", you whispered, hands on his shoulders, squeezing as you glided your hands along of his body. Trying to memorize every part of his skin. As if he would put it to the test later. "Fuck you for calling me professor like it doesn't turn you on just to say it", you moaned, not sure why, whether it was frustration or just the pleasure of him touching you. "Please just touch me", you whimpered, grabbing one of his hands and inching it towards your upper leg.

He was so conflicted. Probably thinking of a clever remark of some sorts. Yet your skin was distracting, your scent.. the way your voice trembled. How could he deny you. There would be plenty of times to take things easy. Now, the professor, or, Tom, did not want to waste any second. He hitched your dress up, lips moving down towards your shoulder. His slender fingers moved carefully along of your panties. He moaned, you were so ready for him already. "You little minx", he didn't mean it as an insult, however he couldn't help himself. The temptation too much. Tom inched you panties aside, fingers moving along your slit and soon enough he was coated with your juices. And instead of touching you right where you wanted him to, he moved his fingers up towards his mouth. Tasting you. The sigh was unholy. Yet awakened the fire inside you even more.

"You're insufferable", moving so you could kiss him again, ushering away his hands so he had to hold onto your hips again. You on the other hand moved to open his pants. Ridding him his jeans rather quickly so you could stroke him through his boxers. Lips clashed together again, tongue against tongue, dancing for dominance which Tom rather quickly claimed. He ripped your panties off of you, hand in-between of your legs so he could finally touch you were you needed him the most. His thumb circling the sensitive nub between of your legs rather urgently. "Need.. you", heck you hadn't even reached the house, still inside of his hallway. But fuck it, you'd fuck him right here.

You pushed his boxers down, freeing him from the contraption. One of your hands wrapped eagerly around of his shaft. Apparently he was just as eager as you were.

Tom pushed you against of the wall, knee in-between of your legs as he claimed your mouth again. Your dress was hitched up around your belly, yet you were only focused on him. The professor, your professor. Touching you in all the right ways. "Please", you begged, arching your back so you could be closer to him. "If only you were so obedient in class", he chuckled, aligning himself up against of your entrance, looking you in the eyes as he slowly inched himself inside of you. "Fuu-..", he quickly shut you up, lips eagerly pressed against of yours again while he fucked you.

God he felt amazing. The way he filled you up just right. Touching all the right places. You moved your arms around of his neck, Tom held you up against of the wall. He pulled you up against of the wall. Holding you up higher as you wrapped your arms around of him tightly. His thrusts were eager, hard, hips snapping upwards rather quickly. Your moans were an endless song that kept him going, muffled by his own noises while he kissed you. "You're going to be my good little student?" he pulled back, admiring you. Pinned against the wall, taking his cock so well. You couldn't answer, especially when his thumb moved in-between your legs again, circling your sensitive bundle. You chanted a bunch of curses, some fucks, incoherent stuff as you tried to make it clear that you were close to your release.

It felt like he had just entered you. As if you were fucking for just a few seconds. But already you were so close. Tom himself quickened his thrusts. Really pinning you between him and the wall. All you could sense was him holding you, his thrusts, the way he lips touched every part of your neck, sucking, moaning, his thumb eagerly pressing against of your clit while he one of his paintings pricked against your neck. "I-", you couldn't find your voice, the climax overtaking you so harshly that you arched your back, put the back of your head against of the wall and clenched around of him. That seemed to get a reaction out of him, his head snapping back so he could watch you come undone. Only to chase his own release, fucking you harshly until his pace faltered and he too found his release.

You needed a moment, slowly pushing your head against of Tom's as he hid his face in your neck. Both needing to catch your breath. You weren't sure how long you both stood there, but you became painfully aware of the ache in your back in your legs. This was long overdue.

Tom slowly pulled himself out of you, already missing your warmth. He held you, putting your feet back onto the ground. You weren't stable, however this time not because you were wearing heels.. or because of the alcohol. Your mind was as clear as could be. You had completely sobered up. However, "can I have some water?" you managed, hand holding onto his shoulder while you looked down at the mess that had been made. Whatever neighbors the professor had, they were surely filing a complaint after the noises they had made.

@little-diable this one is for you. I truly hope I wrote down what you had in mind.

#tom hiddleston #professor tom hiddleston #prof!Tom Hiddleston #Tom hiddleston x reader #professor tom hiddleston x reader #Prof!Tom Hiddleston x reader #xreader #reader insert #professor fic

[ddejavvu]

distracting ta!peter while he marks exams…things get handsy (ps have fun on vacay!!)

today is multiverse monday (but i'm on vacation)! send me any au you can think of :)

thank you angel!! love you bunches :D <33

this post is 18+, minors dni.

"Professor," you bent over his desk just a tad more than you needed to for him to be able to hear you in the dead silent classroom, "I was wondering if you'd help me with this?"

"What'cha need-" Professor Peter glanced up at you haphazardly, eyes widening as he was met with your chest rather than your face, eyes lingering as he dragged them up your form, "Y/N...?" He continued his question as if he hadn't just drooled over you, blinking rapidly from behind his thick-framed glasses.

"I can't understand this part of the assignment," You gestured to a question mark you'd scrawled next to a portion of the homework, "Could y'help me?"

"'F course," You watched his adam's apple bob in his throat delicately, his thoughts anything but as you made to sit beside him.

He messily shoved the test papers he was grading onto the corner of the desk, a few floating gracefully down to land in a scattered heap on the floor. He fumbled to grab them, stacking them all hastily in a pile and turning back to you with a slight rosy hue to his cheeks.

"Now honey, let's get this figured out."

#prof!peter parker #prof!peter #professor!peter parker #professor!peter parker x reader #professor!peter x reader #professor!peter #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tobey!peter #tobey!peter parker #tobey!peter x reader #tobey!spiderman #tobey!peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker #andrew!spiderman #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter #tom!peter #tom!peter parker x reader #tom!peter x reader #tom!peter parker #tom!spiderman #multiverse mondays #ddejavvu's multiverse mondays

[smolvenger]

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!

Word Count: >2K

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

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.

#carrie writes #professor! tom hiddleston #prof! tom x reader #prof! tom hiddleson x reader #tom hiddleston #fanfiction #fluff #fanfiction fluff #professor fanfiction #prof! tom #prof! tom hiddles #professor! tom hiddleston x you #professor! tom hiddleston imagine #professor! tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x reader #prof! tom my beloved

[little-diable]

Distraction - Prof!Tom Holland (smut)

Boy, do I love prof!fics. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: After years of being professor Holland’s student, the reader finally finishes her studies and joins the team as a young professor – allowing the two to finally give into their teasing.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, office sex, oral (f), gagging, some brief jealousy but mainly fluff and smut

Pairing: Prof!Tom Holland x fem!prof!reader (3.6k words)

“Morning (y/n)!” She was greeted with a smile, unable to bite her chuckles back as she greeted him. Her steps were slow, trying to accept that the office she had visited numerous times over the past years was now hers, well, half of it. (Y/n) sat her bag down on the empty desk, sitting down in the chair she had always claimed as hers, making herself comfortable in this very room whenever he had office hours. “It’s good to finally have you around as a colleague.”

“Thank you, professor.” For a second she had pondered over the title, wondering if she should still call him “professor”, and yet it felt wrong to use his first name, at least not when he hadn’t offered it to her yet. 

“Please, (y/n), Tom’s just fine, we’re colleagues now after all.” Heat flushed through her, eyes momentarily flickering down to her bag, reaching for her laptop to place it down on her desk. It’d probably take her weeks to adjust to the new situation, still not fully realizing that she was finally allowed to teach at the university. “What’s on your timetable for today? Maybe we can grab lunch together, if you want.”

Tom leaned back in his chair, hand running through his curls as he watched her with his coffee coloured eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, hoping that he wouldn’t pick up on the giddiness thumping through her veins. (Y/n) couldn’t remember when her crush on the young professor had started, but by now it felt all too natural, one with her system, like a virus she’d never get rid of again. Back when she had been a student, (y/n) had chased any chance to spend time with him outside of his classes, finding her way to his office every single week to discuss new books, theories and problems. And Tom had always listened, sharing his own thoughts with the student he couldn’t help but marvel at. 

“I’m teaching a class at eleven, but I’m free between one and three. Does that work for you?” She opened her laptop to log into the university database, opening the course she’d teach in the next hour. He kept watching her with a smile playing on his lips, a proud smile she couldn’t help but fawn over, wondering if he felt the same bond keeping them chained together. When she had been his student (y/n) hadn’t dared to flirt with him – not like the other students trying to gain his attention – but now the tide had changed, the waves kept rolling back onto the sandy beach they’ve been walking on for years. 

“Works perfect. You know, I’m free till four, I could come watch your class.” For a moment she froze, eyes flickering down to the presentation she had prepared. Even though the mere thought of making a fool of herself in front of Tom left her heart racing, pumping hot, searing blood through her system, the thought of having him close would probably help her relax, guiding the students through an exciting class. “I remember how nervous I was on my first day, but I’m sure you’ll do just fine, with or without me there.” 

“Well, we don’t want you to get bored around here all alone, of course you can come watch. But don’t distract my students too much.” He shot her a sly smirk, taking a sip of his tea. Tom wasn’t oblivious, could pick up on gossip all too quickly, hearing the words his students murmured about him, praying to whoever was listening that they’d get a chance with the professor. 

“Me? Never.” 

……

“Here you go.” (Y/n) murmured a soft “Thank you” to the waitress, watching her place both Tom’s and (y/n)’s orders down. He had his eyes set on (y/n), interrupted on his recap of her lesson by the waitress. 

“So, I think you did really well, it won’t take long till you’ll take over my classes too, I’ll be jobless in no time.” Both chuckled, starting eating with their eyes meeting every now and then. No longer was her heart racing in uneven beats, no longer was she overthinking every word tumbling from her lips, somewhat relaxed around the smiling professor. 

“I doubt that, we both know you’re the students' favourite. But I can’t blame them.” Tom shook his head, curls falling into his face, smirk ever prominent on his thin lips. His glasses perfectly framed his handsome features, adding a professional touch to his appearance, making him appear a few years older than he actually was. 

“Can’t blame them, huh? Was I your favourite too, (y/n)?” He was teasing her, and was well aware that he had been the one to influence her back then. In the beginning Tom hadn’t put much thought into their back and forth, appreciating her for asking challenging questions, finally adding something to his classes he had always missed, but with passing months he had slowly picked up on the way she was looking at her – gazes he couldn’t help but reciprocate. 

“Oh stop it, we both know the answer to that.” Before he could shoot back with another teasing reply burning on the tip of his tongue, his name was called by a bright voice, eyes snapping towards an approaching woman. (Y/n) had seen the female professor around a few times, she had never visited her classes, didn’t even know her name, and yet she couldn't help but tense up. The woman wore a wide smile on her painted lips, making (y/n)’s insides churn as she paid more attention to the way the woman was looking at Tom, a gaze (y/n) was all too familiar with. 

“Sorry for disturbing you two, you’re (y/n) right? Welcome to the department.” The woman stretched her hand out for (y/n) to shake, eyes instantly drawn back to Tom and the uncomfortable expression he wore. “I’ll see you tonight right? They’re expecting us at seven.”

“Uhm, yes, I’ll be there.” Tom froze as the woman leaned down to press her lips against his cheek, hand holding his chin with her eyes focused on (y/n). She murmured a soft “See you later” to the two before she left them on their own, not looking back once. For a few moments Tom and (y/n) were engulfed by an uncomfortable silence, a silence Tom interrupted with the sound of him clearing his throat, reaching for his napkin to wipe the lipstick stain off his cheek. 

“Sorry about that. She’s been nagging me for months, I’m her date for a gallery opening tonight, in hopes that she’ll leave me alone after that.” (Y/n)’s gaze flickered down to her now empty plate before she reached for her phone, checking the fleeting time. She shot him a quick smile, murmuring a soft “Don’t worry”. 

“It’s almost three, I think I should head back for my next class soon. Should we pay?” 

……

“But, they aren’t dating, right?” (Y/n) shook her head, sinking further into her friend's couch, letting go of a deep sigh that begged to be released. After leaving the restaurant the atmosphere between her and Tom had been awkward, filled with a silence that was only interrupted as they ran into another colleague of theirs, joining him on his way back towards their building. (Y/n) had barely spared any attention to their conversation, replaying the past moments, unable to bite the feeling of jealousy down, tightening up her throat. 

“No, I don’t think he’s into her, why am I even thinking about that? It’s not like there’s anything actually going on between us.” Another groan left (y/n) as she closed her eyes, deeply exhaling to try and let go of the tension flushing through her. Her friend squeezed her knee, refilling their glasses with a pitiful gaze thrown (y/n)’s way. 

“I mean, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like he is very interested in you, I’m sure it will work out between the two of you.” (Y/n)’s attention was ripped from her friend’s words, hand reaching for her beeping phone. Her heart started racing as she focused on the text Tom had messaged her. It was a picture of a colourful painting, and attached was the text “I think I’m too uncultured, how can people enjoy paintings like that?” 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Her friend shot (y/n) a grin, reading the text (y/n) showed her. It took her a moment to come up with a fitting reply, pondering over the words she should use, trying to ignore the jumps of her heart. 

“Seems like we need to work on your knowledge about art history. You should join my Tuesday class.” With trembling fingers (y/n) placed her phone down, taking a sip of her drink. She tried to stir the conversation with her friend into another direction, not wanting to hyperfocus on Tom and the text he’d shoot her way, but the second her phone beeped again, (y/n)’s hand shot out to reach for it. 

“How about a private lesson? Wouldn’t want to distract your students.” 

…… 

“It was awful, I was so bored.” Tom’s words echoed through their office, he was leaning back in his chair, feet placed on his desk. He was sipping his coffee, studying (y/n), how she typed away on her laptop, replying to emails, trying to catch up with her tasks of the day. 

“Well, it’s the price you pay for leading her on.” He chuckled into his mug, silently grateful that their teasing was finally back, replacing the awkward tension of the day before. Their eyes met for a second, forcing both to give into the smiles tugging on their lips. “Don’t you have something to work on? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do actual work, besides teaching.” 

“Mind you, I work very hard. But why should I focus on my classes, when I can enjoy being around you?” She was glad that she wasn’t taking a sip of her warm beverage, would have probably choked on her sips. Heat rose in her system, forcing her hands to momentarily freeze, hovering over the keys. All (y/n) could do was shake her head, trying to switch her concentration back on the email she had been typing. 

“You’re such a tease, are you like that with all your female colleagues?” Tom threw his head back with a laugh rumbling through him. He rolled back with his chair, sitting up straight to place his cup down. For a second he watched her, pondering over his next move before he rose to his feet to round their desks, plopping down on hers, forcing (y/n) to focus on him once again. 

“We both know you were jealous of her yesterday, right?” He didn’t give her a chance to reply, forcing (y/n) to keep on watching him as he reached for her chin, holding her in place with his thumb running over her lower lip. Her words were stuck in her throat, unable to tear her eyes away as if the roles were reversed, replaying the plot of Orpheus and Eurydice, forced to turn back around to catch another glance of his frame. “But we both also know that there’s no need for you to be jealous, I’ve always been focused on you, even when I wasn’t supposed to.” 

Her heart had stopped racing, it felt as if time had frozen, as if earth had stopped rotating, waiting for Tom to break out into a fist of giggles, teasing her for believing the words he had just spoken. But Tom kept quiet, patiently waiting for (y/n) to reply. He felt her skin grow warmer, eyes flickering between hers and her lips, not daring to move closer before a reply would roll off her tongue. 

“I,” she struggled to reply, unable to pierce the pieces together, not daring to accept that Tom had just given into the feelings (y/n) had fostered for years. “Do you really mean that?” 

Tom let go of her face to reach for her hands, pulling her to her feet to stand between his thighs. One of his hands found their way back to her cheek, guiding (y/n) even closer. With her breath hitched in her chest she started counting the passing by seconds, wondering if he’d close the gap between them, like two boats sailing into the safe haven after months at sea. The waves were guiding them ashore, laying their trust in the lighthouse that called for them to give in, to let go of the pressure that had kept resting on their hearts. 

“Professor Holland?” The sound of somebody knocking on their door ripped the two apart, forcing (y/n) to sit back down in her chair, trying to catch her breath as Tom called for them to enter. One of his students stepped into the office, shooting (y/n) a quick smile before he focused on Tom, asking the questions that have guided him towards this office. And with her eyes trained on the screen of her laptop, (y/n)’s mind started replaying the past moments, cursing the student for interrupting their moment – a moment she had been waiting for since she had started crushing on the professor. 

……

It was evening by the time Tom found his way back into the office, freezing in his step as he found (y/n) still sitting in her chair, working on a book she kept annotating. Their eyes met for a brief second, breaking contact as he closed the door, haltering in his step for a moment before he walked to his desk, placing his books down. Tom rounded their desks like he had done hours ago, cupping her cheek with one hand, eyes finding her curious ones. 

Without another warning, Tom pressed his lips against hers, finally giving into the pull he had been fighting against for endless hours. Her gasp allowed him to deepen the kiss, stabilising himself with his free hand gripping the armrest of her chair, keeping her close to him. (Y/n)’s hands found his curls, not daring to overthink the moment that felt far more intense than in her dreams. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking of doing that since this morning.” Tom murmured his words against her lips, chuckles swallowed by another kiss she pressed against his lips. Both chased one another, not daring to break apart, wanting to drag out their moments together for as long as possible. Lust flushed through her veins, a biting feeling (y/n) had tried to repress for the past years, but the dam had broken, there was no holding back, no need to stop her body from giving in. 

She rose from her chair, making space for Tom to take her seat, pulling her into his lap with his hands finding the back of her thighs. Her middle was ground against his, coaxing a soft moan out of them, sounds bleeding together with the sound of their lips meeting over and over again. (Y/n) felt herself dripping, silently begging him to take it another step further, and another, till she’d choke on his name with tears welling up in her eyes. 

“If we don’t stop I’ll fuck you right here, I won’t be able to hold back.” Tom’s confession left her trembling, feeling him growing hard against her. With her hands finding his curls, (y/n) pulled him in for another breathless kiss, whispering a soft “Don’t you dare stop”. 

“Alright, but you’ve been warned.” A squeal ripped through (y/n) as she was forced from his lap onto her desk, pushed back for Tom to work on the buttons of her trousers, pulling the fabric down her legs. Anticipation filled her body, wondering how he’d touch her, how he’d make her feel, clinging onto the dreams she had been forcing through her mind for the past years. The soaked through fabric of her panties was ripped from her legs, and with his eyes finding hers, Tom pushed the fabric between her teeth, “Gotta keep you quiet for now.” 

Tom’s eyes scanned up and down her frame, marveling at her as if time was fleeting, as if she’d be ripped from him any moment now, needing to burn the sight into his mind. His cold hands pulled her thighs open, eyes set on her glistening cunt, coaxing a groan out of him. She wanted to keep watching him, sounds swallowed by her panties, but the second his tongue found her folds, licking her skin clean, she forced her eyes shut, desperately trying to focus on his movements. 

“Fuck, tastes so sweet, I should mark you up, remember that you’re mine, but I’ll take my time with you later, love.” Two of his fingers were pushed into her tightness, forcing her walls to flutter around him, not used to feeling the cold metal of his rings pressing against her warm skin. It was sinful, so sinful, giving into their carnal desire in their office, a public space, and yet they didn’t dare run from the darkness that seemed to guide them, one with their desires. 

(Y/n) combed one hand through his locks, holding onto Tom as he kept sucking on her bundle of nerves, fucking her closer to the edge with skilled, curled fingers. Shudders ran down her spine, heightening her senses, unable to pay attention to her thoughts, the images flushing through her mind, trapped in dark matter, a field of energy only Tom would be able to rip her from. 

“So pretty for me, fuck, I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” She arched her back off the desk, giving into the moan that roared through her, a sound so sinful not even her panties could drown it out. Her orgasm creeped closer, about to swallow her whole, forcing her to drown in the ocean she had been sailing, losing her path – forced to cling to Tom. “Gonna fuck you now, want to feel you cum with my cock buried deep inside of you.” 

He parted from her for just a second, freeing his cock with quick movements, reaching for the condom he carried around in his wallet. (Y/n) watched him with glassy eyes, sighing in relief as he pulled her panties from her mouth, allowing her to whimper his name. Tom’s fingers dug into her thighs as he wrapped her legs around his waist, cock brushing through her folds, collecting drops of her arousal before he finally pushed into her. 

Before she could release the heavy moan wanting to rip through her, Tom had kissed her, keeping her pressed against his chest. He fucked her slow, giving her a few moments to adjust before building up his pace, making her forget her name with only a few thrusts. The way Tom fucked her was ruthless, unforgiving, and yet it was more intense than what she had experienced before that, shaking against him as if she was about to pass out. 

“Feels so good, fuck, Tom.” Her words were whispered against his lips, eyes squeezed shut, allowing Tom to use her body, to mark her up. He was claiming her in the most primal way, body moulding against hers like wax formed into a candle, burned from the heat she emanated. 

Tom sneaked a hand between their bodies, fingers finding their way back to her pulsing clit, set on pushing her over the edge. His rough thrusts pushed her back into the state she had been trapped in moments ago, no longer having control over her body. Both had a hard time grasping that this was real, that they were finally allowed to give in, secretly promising one another that they’d never part ways again. 

“You’re gonna cum, huh? Can feel you clenching around me.” (Y/n) could only choke on his name, not able to hold back as her orgasm threatened to take over, rocking through her body like a bolt of lightning striking her. His pace didn’t falter, keeping a steady grip on her to hold (y/n) close as she gave in, trembling against his body. 

His dark eyes fluttered close as he came, filling the condom with a deep groan ripping through his throat. A “fuck” left Tom, slowly loosening his grip on (y/n) to pull out of her, not picking up on the whimper leaving her, feeling empty. Their eyes searched one another, unable to stop their grins from widening as another kiss was shared, chasing their closeness.

“Are you okay, love?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, taking his reached out hand to rise from her position on the table, needing to stabilise herself with her still quivering limbs. She’d struggle with walking for the next hours, needing Tom to guide her back home, not ready to part ways just yet.

“How about I take you home with me? We could cook something, take a shower, and watch a movie?” His words were met with a kiss pressed against his lips, answering his question. And with one last glance thrown her way, Tom pulled (y/n) out of their office, hands interlaced.

#Tom Holland smut #Tom Holland imagine #professor holland

[veraashh]

Gum (Tom)

been reading some prof!tom lately.

PAIRING: Prof!Tom x Reader

SUMMARY: Maybe chewing gum is not such a bad idea.

reblogs/feedbacks/likes are much appreciated and highly encouraged. DO NOT REPOST/STEAL MY WORK. :<

WARNINGS: depictions of chewing gum, reader is a tired college senior, real person fiction, age gap (tom is 40, y/n is 20's), SFW-ish, implied smut?, minor Dom/Sub dynamics?, sorry for typos or grammar mistakes English isn't my first language. ~any other warnings not mentioned~

WORDS: 580~

You were trying your best to not fall asleep during his lectures. It's only 7pm and you already feel tired. You've been infront of your computer screen since this morning. Only leaving for small breaks inbetween classes.

Online classes are fine for the most part but your university mandated to keep your cameras open to simulate some normalcy. Other than that you couldn't really complain much.

You reach for your gum near your monitor. Sneakily, you pop it into your mouth. You chew and the movement of your jaw already helping.

You wouldn't have this class on your senior year of college if it weren't for the mix up in the loading of your subjects freshman year. However, you don't really mind since a certain blue eyed enthusiastic professor is teaching your missed class.

Professor Tom Hiddleston, his blue eyes sparkle as he goes on and on about the lecture, a love for literature you both shared.

As you absentmindedly chewed your gum, staring at his video instead of the prepared presentation, a loud clearing of throat pulls you from your reverie.

It came from him. You straighten up in your seat, when you unconsciously leaned over your desk, daydreaming about your professor.

He clears his throat once again. "Miss Y/L/N?" Your eyes widened, moving your mouse to unmute only to notice it already unmuted. You feel all the blood rush up your head as embarrassment washes over you.

Panicking inwardly as you think about how loud were you chewing or sighing, worse maybe mumbling something. It seems like you blacked out the last few minutes.

"Did you have something to add?" He asks, a playful smirk on his lips. You quickly shake your head. "No, sir." You mute yourself, trying to keep a straight face.

"Well, as much as I love to hear all of you. I would appreciate it if you keep your mics on mute during the lecture and reserve your questions right after." The whole class sends affirming messages on the chatbox. If only the ground could swallow you now, you'd gladly let it.

"Thank you so much, class." There was pause, a thought flashing through his eyes. He opens his mouth only to close it again. But he chooses to let the idea out.

"Oh, before we have a short break. Miss Y/L/N?" He calls out to you again. Butterflies swarm your stomach with haste, heart beating out of your chest.

"Will you spit or swallow?" He says, your jaw almost dropped but the glint of his eyes was different. It excited you. You bite your lip before opening your mic.

"Swallow, sir." You smirked and swallowed your gum. He smiles, chuckling to himself.

"Good girl." He whispers, if you weren't listening well you would've missed it. "Right, thank you. We'll be taking a short break, be back in 15 minutes." With that your classmates left, faces shocked at what just happened.

When it was only the two of you left in the meeting, he speaks up. "Do you have other plans for tonight?" He smiles, your legs pressing together at his sultry voice.

You take a second to think, to try and tease him. "I don't think so..." He laughs softly.

"Dinner?" He asks, a playful glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. A one word question that's making you think there's something more instore with the way the words played on his tongue.

"Would love to, sir."

thank you so much for reading :>

#tom hiddleston #prof!tom #tom x reader #rpf #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fan fic #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine

[piscesparker]

Borrowed T.H

Masterlist

prof!Tom

Warnings: making out, terrible jokes, fluff, trashy writing

"Tom", you whispered as your boyfriend slash professor kissed your neck and marking you up very well. You had gone over to his apartment to talk about increasing your marks but Tom understood the complete opposite of it, and that is how you found yourself on his couch, under him. He hummed against your skin not being deterred from his goal.

"I need to talk to you about my marks." You sighed as he began his work at your sweet spot.

"I'm already working on it love." He chuckled, his soft lips not leaving your skin.

"I meant my grades." You said a bit of seriousness in your tone, and then he finally looked at you, he curls falling on his forehead as you ran your hand through them and looking into his equally soft brown orbs. "Well, you get an A grade for being such a pretty girl." He kissed your crimson cheek.

"Tom." You warned.

"Don't worry about it darling," he said in a heavy British accent, "I will see to it later, for now just let me spend some time with my girl." He smirked and got back to littering hickeys all over your neck and collarbone.

--

The next morning you woke up snuggled into Tom's arms, reaching out for your phone you checked the time and realized you're gonna be late for your first class. You let yourself out of the brunet's strong grip and rushed to the bathroom, upon reaching there you took a look of yourself in the mirror and saw your neck and collarbone covered with hickeys and began to panic as you had to head out of the door in fifteen minutes. "Tom!" You called out, heading back to where the boy was sleeping soundly and stood in front of his sleeping figure with your hands on your hips, "Tom wake up!" You called out again.

He squinted and reached for your hand and kissing your knuckles, "Morning to you too love."

"Look what you've done!" You huffed, "I have to leave in fifteen minutes and I cannot leave looking like this!"

"But you look so pretty!" He pouted, secretly proud of his work.

"Do you have any concealer?" You asked returning to the bathroom and once again taking a look at the bruises.

"Yeah, it's right next to nail polish in the cabinet." He joked.

"Hilarious." You deadpanned, "What am I gonna do Tom?"

"Ooh I have an idea!" He exclaimed and went to his room, moments later he came with his black turtle neck in his hand, "Hear you can wear this." He handed you the shirt.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," He reassured, "You do look nice in my clothes." He admitted, scratching the back of his neck. Tom was right, you did look nice his clothes.

Your day went on as usual, boring classes and tons of assignments to be submitted, but all of it was worth it because it was the last class of the day and it was Tom's. He entered the class all the girls began to swoon over how his biceps looked in his white tee, but he didn't pay attention to any of them; his eyes meeting only yours as he gave you a soft smile, admiring how you looked in his shirt. The bell rang signally that class was over, as the rest of the students began to move out Tom called out to you, "Miss Y/l/n, would you mind meeting me in my office." You nodded.

"Ooh someone's in trouble!" Your friend teased you. Reaching his office you knocked and waited for him to open the door, the door swung open and he roughly pulled you in and the checked the hallway for any passerby's. Slamming the door shut he pulled you closer by your waist, "You have no idea what you have been doing to be all day looking so hot in that." He whispered seductively in your ear followed by his soft lips meeting yours. You were in for a long time.

General Taglist: @petersasteria @bleh-bleh-blehs @astrosurreptitious @hollanderfangirl @alinastarkrovs @parkerpeter24 @yourstrulyamour @celestialholland @theonly1outof-a-billion @miraclesoflove @theglitterymess @osterfieldholland01 @spideyssunshine @zspideyy @yousayironisayman @rosie-posie08

Tom Holland Taglist: @words-to-accomplish-something @asshatgrace @spideyspeaches @anissalime @peterbenjiparker @just-lost-inbetween-worlds

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #prof!tom #tom holland fic

[ohwhatamessiam]

Self Control - Chapter 13

Summary: A new semester brings you a new opportunity, but have you fully moved on from Chris? Has he moved on from you?

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans X TA!Reader

Word Count: 6.5k+

Warnings: Angst, lots of big emotional realizations.

A/N: Hi everyone! Happy Holidays from your local dumpster fire! If any of you are still here, reading this, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to finish this, but as you could guess, the last couple years have been pretty rough. I went ahead and wrote an epilogue for this story, so get ready for another lil nugget. As always, a huge thank you to my beta @fangirlisms-22​! I tried to tag everyone, but some blogs have deactivated, changed urls, or won’t let me tag them. Here’s the Spotify playlist for the entire fic.

I love feedback, so send me your thoughts and feelings!

Self Control | Masterlist

Winter break was a welcome reprieve for you. The time away from Chris, from Tom, from anything to do with the damn university was wonderful. And it allowed you to write. Not for a publication or for a class, but for yourself. There were some weird experimental and abstract pieces, your way of just trying to put words on the page. Then there were pages that sparked quick, started by a phrase in your mind or a character that needed to be placed on a page. But those were short, brief beginnings that could be stoked over time, yet you had little interest in growing them at the moment. Writing a novel going into your second semester of grad school felt like a daunting task to take on. You decided to stick to short stories instead. 

And then the break ended, maybe too quickly. 

Walking back into the English department’s office feels risky, and you glance over your shoulder instinctively to make sure no one’s watching you. Which you know doesn’t make sense. There is nothing for you to hide anymore. No relationship risking your education and career. Yet, nerves sit at a low point in your stomach, causing both nausea and your heart rate to rise. The feeling is misplaced until you realize what you might have to look forward to.

You do not know if Tom is taking the creative writing class this semester, but you hope he isn’t. What he’d written in his final paper was flattering and definitely too personal, but it wasn’t quite at a level that you felt required messaging him on a school email account during break. But you couldn’t avoid the uncomfortable conversation that would inevitably ensue when you saw him next. It would be best if you didn’t have to see him on a regular basis after that happened.

Then there’s Sebastian. Or Seb, or whatever he wants you to call him. He’d been dangerously flirty last semester. That risked nothing too serious then, but this semester with him as your boss, it could risk everything again. You were set on learning from Chris and your relationship. And you were determined to never find yourself in that situation again. 

Straightening your back, you center that thought in your mind. You would not let unprofessional work relationships occur this semester. You would not allow someone else to have that much control over your life and livelihood again.

You find your dark office just as cold as before break, but now it feels like something different. A reminder of everything that happened, but also an opportunity to work on your own projects and assignments. A place for growth and mentoring, not hidden rendezvouses. A home for positivity and emotional strife. 

In fewer words, a redo. 

Your office chair warms under your cardigan as you lean back, your head turning up to the ceiling. There’s a water spot in the fiber tile that sits just behind your desk. It has bothered you since your first day, but you never saw anything leaking from it. You hope that with the coming winter weather, it will stay in that condition. Your eyes stay trained on that spot as you do a slow spin in your chair, letting your body surrender to the momentum.

It feels nice to loosen up a little, let yourself focus on something other than what last semester had been like. If only you could hold onto that feeling forever.

A knock on your door forces you upright in your seat. Your knee just barely clips the edge of your desk.

Seb steps into the room, eyes already apologetic. “Shit, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You absentmindedly rub the sore spot as you shake your head, “No no, you’re fine. Did you need something Sebas-” You catch yourself as your eyes hold his, “Uh Seb?”

He flashes a smile that turns his face soft, and the places where he carries the evidence of his happiness deepen. “Ah, that’s good. You caught yourself.” His hands rest on the back of the chair facing your desk, and he leans toward you. “Can we have a little talk?”

“Yeah, sure.” You tuck your surely bruised leg under your desk as you face him.

A look of relief passes over his features, causing his brows and eyelids to lower as he exhales. He stays leaning against the chair for a second, his face still frozen in relief. You’re not sure what to make of the quiet moment that passes, but just as quickly as it started he pivots and shuts your office door behind him. Apprehension pulls at your gut but you stay rooted in your seat. He sits down in the chair opposite from you, crossing his ankles as he tucks them under the seat. 

“So uh,” his hands fidget in his lap. “I know I don’t fully understand what happened between you and Chris last year. But I want to promise you something.”

Your breath stills in your lungs. This was your semester of moving on, of putting your head down and pushing forward. No love interests to distract or writer’s block to hold you back.

His deep blue eyes bore into yours, “I will not overstep our professional and platonic relationship this semester.”

A wave of comfort floods your limbs and the breath you were holding escapes as you smile. “Seb, I appreciate that, but I’m not worried about anything happening between us.”

His body does not match your ease. “Well I know you’ve heard about my reputation, and I wanted to make sure you and I were on the same page.”

“Your reputation of screwing TA’s?”

“See, that’s an unfair rumor,” his hands unclench. “I briefly dated a TA my first semester as a professor, but she wasn’t even my TA. And I definitely haven’t just been screwing TA’s for the last three years.”

“Were you not flirting with me at Robert’s department dinner?”

“Yes and no.” He crosses his legs to force his body back into the chair. You hadn’t noticed how the more you were calling him out, the more he’d begun leaning toward you. “I’m an overly friendly person, but especially so when I’m drinking. Most people read into it more than they should,” he hesitates again. “I had already read one of your stories from Chris and I didn’t want to tell you. I really enjoyed it and was genuinely interested in getting to know you. But when I saw how he looked at you, how he seemed so protective of you, I knew better than to make my interest known past that night. So yes, there was some actual intent behind my behavior.”

The confession hangs between you, pulling your every concern and regret back to your nervous stomach. Elizabeth had been right that night. Chris has been right the whole semester. You thought you were just the new grad to haze, Seb’s new girl to flirt with and fluster up. Heck, Sebastian had pretty much confirmed it before Thanksgiving break, but you still thought it didn’t really mean anything. Your denials of everyone’s warnings let you ignore him so you could channel your attention back to another unavailable and complicated relationship. 

Seb lets out a deep breath, “And it’s not like we couldn’t have been together. It would have probably been better for us than what actually happened.”

A scoff escapes your throat, “Still would have been a weird power dynamic with you worki-”

“Sure, but I’m not married,” he cuts you off.

You glare at him, silence winding its way between you both. You don’t mean to be, but some piece of you is still defensive over what happened, over what shitty mistakes you so happily made. It’s not like you can ignore everything there was between you and Chris, but you’ve had time to contemplate how wrong it had been. How wrong you had been to trust him. But he knew how to say the right things and touch you in the right ways. He made sure you felt important to him, special until you suddenly weren’t important enough. You promised yourself that this wouldn’t happen again, and goddammit, you would not let Seb do this to you now.

“This is starting to feel like you’re overstepping the boundaries of professional and platonic, Sebastian.”

“I probably am. And I’m sorry about that but I’m trying to be open and vulnerable with you before you watch that disappear when the semester starts. Once I’m in the classroom or under Robert’s concerned eye, I won’t be able to say this.”

You know you don’t want to be having this conversation, but you also know that playful, jokey Seb will re-emerge when he has an audience and you want your boundaries and intentions to be clear then.

“Okay. Then say it. And I’ll say what I need to say, and we won’t have to talk about it again.”

“Perfect.” He nods, his hair bouncing enthusiastically as he does it. “I like you. I think working together will be good for both of us, but I know that I already have an interest in you that could compromise that relationship. And I promise you, I’m not going to let that get in the way of doing our jobs. It would be unfair to you after what you went through last semester, and it would be shitty for me to put truth into the rumors.”

“So this will be strictly professional?”

“We can be, if that’s what you want. But I am looking forward to getting to know you better. And if you’re willing to be friendly coworkers like I am with most of the department, I’d be happy to be that too. But that’s as far as we’ll go.” His eyes hold your own, pleading with you to accept his promise. Echoing the last set of blue eyes that you let plead with you for too long. You drop his gaze, trying to shake those times from your memory.

He gulps and promises one more time, “No matter how I feel about you, that is as far as I will let us go.”

You wait a moment, let his voice repeat it around your head. He was giving you the exact thing you wanted, the exact assurance that you needed for the semester. But why did your nerves never settle now? They had when he told you nothing would happen past platonic, but now that you knew about his feelings, his back-burner interest made you uneasy in a different way. 

Or maybe it was just regret cursing you for what you had missed all along.

“I appreciate that,” you say, meeting his eyes again. There’s something distant behind them now, he’s pulling away. Good, that’s what you need. “And as much as I wish I’d known about your feelings sooner, we can’t change anything now.”

You push up from your desk, standing in hopes that he’ll follow you. He does. 

“So thank you for the promise,” you stick your hand out, hoping for a shake. He follows your actions again, keeping his fingers rigid against your palm. “I’ll hold you to it, Seb.”

As soon as your hand leaves his, he’s already pivoting, turning his signature charm back on. “Keep your eyes on your email, (Y/N). A revised syllabus should be there by the end of the day.” He pulls open your door, his shoulder leaning into the frame as he turns back to you. “And I hope you’re open to a collaborative form of class structure, because I don’t just lecture away.”

You nod, “I’m interested in seeing what that means.”

“It might surprise you, but it usually plays well with the students.” His fingers trace the edge of your door before they settle on the knob. “Get ready for the creative writing class that I wish I’d had in undergrad.”

And with that, he pulls your door closed and walks away from your office. You let out an extended exhale as you crumble back into your chair. Your brain plays a little mantra for you of professional, professional, professional, as you open up your laptop again and load your email in anticipation for what other rules will guide your semester. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Seb held true to his promise, no flirting or inappropriate comments were made after that day. You were also fortunate enough to not have Tom in your writing class. But it didn’t prevent the panic you felt every time you saw him on campus, or at your favorite coffee shop downtown. The first few times your paths cross a flash of crimson would stain his cheeks, his eyes would meet yours and then immediately bounce away. He finally works up the courage to speak to you the fourth time you see him in person. 

It’s about a month into classes and you’re going through your student’s craft worksheets to help account for their participation. You sit at the fringes of the cafe closest to campus, distractedly peering out the window between grading pages. The February morning is a little gloomy, and you hope it and the warm chai latte in front of you will spark some inspiration in yourself. So you nearly miss Tom until he’s there, standing over your table, his cheeks pink with embarrassment, but courage too.

He gives you a weak smile and you worry that he’ll take the seat across from you, your eyes even involuntary flash to the chair. Fortunately he’s too caught up in his own nerves to notice yours. 

“H- hi (Y/N),” he manages as his fingers grip onto his backpack strap. 

“Hello Tom.” You do your best to keep your features neutral but polite. 

His eyes fall to your table for a moment, catching on the stacks of papers in front of you. “Look, about last semester-”

You cut him off with your best imitation of nonchalance, “Don’t mention it, Tom.” You really want him to pretend it never happened so you can avoid this conversation.

His gaze cuts back to you, growing wider with his mouth. “I’m really sorry if what I wrote in my final paper made you uncomfortable.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, Tom.” You try to sound polite even though you’re speaking through your teeth.

His voice shrinks, “It wasn’t?”

You want to brush it all off, but what if he gets a crush on another TA or professor and crosses a boundary again? You can’t promise someone else would be so willing to write it off. Or hell, they might even be a worse person and take advantage of the poor kid. You really don’t want to hurt him, but you don’t want anyone else to have the chance to do the same.

“No,” you shake your head, finally letting your facade crumble. “It was.” Whatever hope was hiding behind his features falls. 

“Tom. You’re a sweet kid, and I’m sure someday you are going to find someone who shares a lot of similar tastes and interests with you. And they’ll be in an appropriate position and place to have a relationship with you. But I’m not that. No TA or professor can be that for you. And you deserve better than to like someone who can’t actually be with you.” You try not to wince at your own words. He may not know it, but you’re giving him advice that you wish you’d had before last semester.

He nods, a look of acceptance transforming the clear evidence of dejection on his brows and lips. He places a hand on the edge of your table, leaning so slightly toward you. “I knew it was inappropriate the second after I submitted it, and then I just hoped you wouldn’t have to grade it.” His eyes try to hold your own as his mouth searches for the words. “I- I care about your opinion of me too much to let some dumb paragraph in a paper ruin it.”

“Well, I didn’t have to grade it fortunately, but it was brought to my attention.” You feel your own brows furrowing and if things were different, you’d reach out and pat him on the shoulder, but you know better. “And Tom, I don’t think any less of you because of it. In fact I see a bit of myself in you.”

His face changes ever so slightly, a shred of hope lifting his features, turning his eyes puppyish. You don’t want to demolish his feelings here, but you want him to understand the gravity here. “A while ago I got in over my head with someone older and in a position of power. It wasn’t right, and while I couldn’t change my feelings, he didn’t have to respond to my interest. And when that became something bigger that should definitely not have happened, it just ended up hurting me in the long run.”

“I’m sorry that happened.” And the earnestness in his eyes makes you really believe him.

“The point is you shouldn’t go through that too. And I hope you understand why I can’t respond any other way to what you wrote. It was sweet but misguided, and that’s all it can be.”

“I do, I really do.” He taps his finger against the table, your conversation coming to its close. He shifts his weight on his feet and starts to step away from you when he suddenly turns back, a sigh escaping his lips. “(Y/N), I don’t want it to be awkward for us in the future. You might be my TA again and I want to be able to talk to you without this being weird.”

You break into a smile and can’t help giving him a small headshake. “Tom, we just move forward like this was no big deal. There’s boundaries we both understand now, and as long as we go forward respecting that, it won’t be awkward or weird.”

“You promise?” his voice gets higher with the question.

You mean it with your whole being. “I promise.” 

He chuckles with relief, “Okay, good. I’ll uh, see you around (Y/N).”

“See ya, Tom.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You hadn’t run into Tom much since then, and when you did, it was passing nods in between you two. But you had other things on your mind as the first major writing assignment for your students became due at midterms.

Unlike in your literature class, Seb’s writing class was truly graded based on the student’s participation. They were expected to ask questions in discussions, turn in writing activities that made them commit at least something to the page, and then to turn in two original pieces. There would be a week of workshopping, but he had made sure the classroom space was purely a place for open and kind conversation. Students were not forced to do deep revisions of their work unless they chose to. And they were not forced to explain or defend their work if someone didn’t get it either.

The way he was most successful with this was the student’s first real assignment. He assigned them a short story reading without telling them who the author was. They made comments and explained their personal understandings of the meaning and the craft, and at the end of the class he revealed that he was in fact the author. They were shocked. It gave you both a good chuckle and it let the student’s know they were at a level playing field with him. No one was above critique, and no one was below respect. 

He’d given you the option to let them read and discuss one of your short stories too, but you decided it best to not participate that way. Your most recent pieces felt too personal for the students to read. Hell, you were pretty sure you didn’t even want Seb to read them. He’d know exactly who it all was about, and you didn’t want his feelings about you and Chris to complicate your working relationship.

So you kept it to yourself. Only showing Robert some of the things you did on break. If he liked the beginnings you knew you could push yourself to add more, or refine it into something better. And that’s exactly what you had decided to work on during your Spring Break. You entered the students grades first, and then set out to just write, and write, and write for the rest of the week. 

You’re two good days into adding to a piece from Christmas break when you hear a timid knock on your front door. It’s after 7 and maintenance had already come by this week to spray for termites and make sure your air vents were in good shape heading into the warmer months. There was no one else you thought would come by. 

Getting up from the couch, you do an inventory of what you’re wearing. Sweatpants, an oversized t-shirt, and your hair is in a horribly messy bun. Hopefully, it won’t be anyone important. You head for the door when another series of knocks sounds, slightly stronger and more sure. You pick up the pace and decide it’s best to peek through your peephole first.

The breath leaves your lungs sharply, crashing against the only thing that separates you. 

He shouldn’t be here. 

You’d been avoiding him all semester on campus, barely making a pass at eye contact in the office, and you would never bring his name up in any conversation. So why the hell was he leaning against your door frame?

Your hand stalls on the door, remembering the last time he’d been in your apartment. Before he’d kept Jennifer’s pleas to get back together from you. Before he’d gone back to her for Thanksgiving and pretended nothing had ever been wrong. Before he decided his love for you didn’t mean enough to walk away from the comfortable life he’d already had. That your love wasn’t important enough to make it a priority. 

Another still moment passes, your mind crushing your heart with the memories of before. All the good moments. And then you yank the door.

He moves back, lifting his head but refusing to meet your eyes yet. Anger settles now, deep in your chest, making your heart beat louder, harder. Or it's the adrenaline from seeing him in his messy state. His slight scruff is back, reminding you of the full beard he had when his marriage was a mess. His eyes look tired, bags hanging under his cornflower blue irises. A messenger bag hangs from his shoulder, emphasizing his wrinkled button down. 

It beckons you to take pity on him, let him in. And it stokes a little piece of hope in you too. You try to smother it by staying in the doorway, barring his entrance.

“Hello Chris.” The words feel like bile as they come out, acid having burned its way up from your stomach. They sound almost as painful as they feel.

He finally meets your eyes, and his furrowed brows hang sadly. It’s a near perfect imitation of a puppy. The part of you that’s hoping gains a little more ground. 

He lets out a long breath, all the air leaving his lungs and then he says your name. “Hi (Y/N).” He says your name like it's a relief to speak it. Like it’s been smothering him since he last said it. You grit your teeth in response. “Can I come in?”

You want to say no. You want to yell that he has no right to be here. You want to slam the door. 

But you don’t know what he’s here to tell you. And if he decided to come directly to your apartment instead of waiting to see you in the office, this might be something important. And personal.

Still trying to contain your hope, you cross your arms and step out of the way. He hesitates, his eyes gauging your reaction, and it settles on your crossed arms. His eyes barely leave your resigned body as he enters. Instead of stopping in your living room he continues onto your kitchen, where he sits his messenger bag down on your small dining room table and leans against your fridge. You scoff at how he’s already decided to make himself at home, but you’re happy for the physical distance. Regardless of what he’s about to tell you, it’s best to stay apart. That way you won’t be drawn into his space.

You close the door behind him and stay on the other side of your apartment. You can’t help but take in the way his hands are buried in his jean pockets, the way his foot taps against your floor. He might be as nervous about this as you are. And it adds to your hope just a little bit more again, because if he was just here to reiterate something he’d already said last semester, why would he be anxious? Could you still hold that kind of effect over him?

So you watch him and wait. His eyes bounce around your apartment, taking in your open laptop, your nicely sorted student papers, your partially drunk mug of coffee. They drag over your couch and fluffy blanket, your unmade bed and indented pillows, and lastly you and your clothes.

You want to urge him along, get to the point of why he’s there, but a piece of you tells you to hush. Let him notice what he’s missing. Let him gain his courage. Because whatever reason he’s there for, he needs time to gather himself. But it leaves you feeling like an exhibition, like your life is now just something he can look at and break into little, easily digestible pieces to hold onto or give away as he pleases.

After another moment of silence, he finally breaks. “(Y/N), how have you been?”

You almost wince at this pleasantry, another measure to drag this out. Like you haven’t already been standing in your living room waiting for him to get to the point. 

“I’m fine, Chris.” And you are. Or were, before he showed up. “Why are you here?”

He ignores your question as he starts pacing. “I’ve been okay too, I guess. Robert’s been very involved in my literature classes with Letitia this semester. He’d told me before last semester that I’d be teaching writing this year, and Seb would take over lit. But I think he’s trying to punish me.”

Your head inches up, a look of defiance hardening your jaw. “For what?”

His eyes cut across the space, sharp and almost resentful. “You know what for.”

That hope loses a little bit of its ground, the bubble in your chest deflating. Instead, your anger pushes forward. “I didn’t tell him anything, and you know that.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean someone else didn’t tell him.”

Who would? Tom didn’t really know anything. Seb was too busy doing Jennifer last semester to rat you out. And even if he wanted to, wouldn't that have made it harder for him to have you as his TA this semester? The only person who still seemed to have a motive was the woman Chris went back to.

“Well none of that matters anymore, Chris. We aren’t together, and if Robert’s mad at you for something he can’t exactly prove, that’s his business and not mine.”

“I know.” He stops pacing and reaches up for the opened box of Frosted Flakes that sits on top of your fridge. You almost snap at him, say that he has no right to any piece of your life or things anymore. But the way he throws back a handful of them so quickly, even though it is not his favorite cereal, makes you think he’s looking for a way to stop himself from talking so much. Give his mouth something else to focus on.

He slides his back down the front of your fridge, pulling his knees toward his chest. You stay standing, taking in the way he’s made himself so small here. In your space. Where he used to take up so much more of it, and your time. Where he was always happy to be sprawled across you or your couch. It’s almost bittersweet how much things have changed. Almost sad to think of how different this feels now.

“Why are you here?” you ask again. As much as a part of you wants to keep him here, reminiscing with your hopeful pieces wanting to know if you two can ever go back. But your anger wants him to spit it out already, so you can make him leave when he ultimately hasn’t changed his mind.

His eyes meet yours from the kitchen floor, and he bunches all the flakes into one cheek. “Jennifer’s pregnant.”

The blow lands. 

You sit down on the edge of your couch, your legs tucked under you. And finally, your hope dies. The last little ounce of brightness in your chest goes dark. There’s no way you’d take a man with a pregnant wife away from his child. You hunch forward and pull your knees into your chest, mirroring his body. 

Your mouth moves even though your brain feels empty, “That was fast.” A pained look flashes in his eyes, but you can’t focus on it. “But congrats. You always said you wanted kids.” It sounds hollow coming from you.

The look he shoots you falls somewhere between incredulous and angry. A hand runs through his hair, smoothing out the way your fridge had pushed it up, and after he finishes chewing the rest of the cereal in his mouth, he lets out a deep breath. 

If Jennifer’s pregnant, what is he really here for? To rub his on-the-mend marriage in your face? Or does he really think you deserve to hear this in person, before everyone else finds out? Because you are sure at that very moment, that you’d rather hear this news from Sebastian, or anyone else in the department.

“I just,” he starts around another mouthful of flakes, “I don’t know if this is the way I wanted this to happen.”

You don’t meet his eyes, but the words slip out anyway. “We don’t always get what we want.” It’s the meanest thing you’ve said to him all night, and you wish you’d thought it through before it came out, but your brain is still trying to process how quickly this is happening. How suddenly he must have forgiven Jennifer and crawled back into bed with her.

“(Y/N),” his voice is soft and it forces you to finally meet his eyes. There’s a sincerity in them that makes your heart lurch, that pushes all the air out of your lungs. And no matter how much of you desperately wants to be mad at him and wants to tell him to get the fuck out of your life, you know it would be empty. Because you can’t stop yourself from caring about him, from wanting to see him happy. And it cuts that his happiness is not with you. Stings even deeper that after what he’s done to you, he still can’t seem to leave you alone. But you know he deserves a child at his heels with big blue eyes staring up at him. You would never want to take that from him.

The room stays silent besides his chewing as he stares at you, and you hold his gaze right back. A sadness darkens his face, but this time you don’t hope it’s because he wishes his next big life event was with you. You no longer want him to reminisce on any of the things he lost with you. It wouldn’t be fair to that kid he’s going to have.

He breaks the quiet with a whisper, “I don’t know if I’ll be a good dad.” 

This time it’s you breathing his name, “Chris.”

“I was a shitty husband, what if I’m just as bad at this. Hell, what if I’m even worse.”

“You’re not a bad husband.” The words come out strong, louder than you mean them too. They’re too strong since you just mentally buried the possibility of you two ever getting back together. Too loud since you know your opinion has no real bearing on his life. And they probably escape that way because you're mad at yourself, because after all this time you still are so quick to run to his emotional aid. But he doesn’t know that. “If you were, you would have stayed with me and kept lying to her about it. And I know you’ll be a good father.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I mean it.” You’re still angry with yourself when even more spills out. “I thought about it. Not as something I wanted to do with you then, but it was something I’d thought about if we had a future.” 

He didn’t need to know that, hell, it had been months of you refusing to even admit that to yourself. But it was true. 

You’d known your relationship was too fresh and dangerous, but it didn’t stop your mind from imagining a future for you two. A future with a nice house, a large backyard for Dodger, and a couple of tots chasing you around. And after how last semester ended, you’d felt dumb for ever considering it a possibility. It had been months since you’d forced yourself to stop imagining any real future with Chris, yet it didn’t take away the sting of the truth. It didn’t change the fact that you might have wanted that. Because you knew now it would never be an option. 

His lips part after he swallows, breath meeting his tongue to speak. But you shake your head, telling him to let this conversation die. That it isn’t worth the pain and feelings it will dig up. 

You grow silent again, closing your eyes tightly and listening to the crunch of cereal between his molars. And you feel your limbs grow heavy, tired as your brain strains to collect exactly how you feel at this moment. You want to remember the way it feels to have your heart broken and then repeatedly toyed with. You need to remember how it feels when Chris shows back up in your life, to then stomp on your history together. This feeling was what pushed you away from him before, and it will be what helps you move on from him, permanently this time. No hope in you holding out.

He finishes the box of Frosted Flakes before he speaks again, seeming completely comfortable in the empty silence between you. In the quiet of your pain. 

You don’t look at him until he pushes off your kitchen floor and moves toward his bag. His hands dig for something, pushing past what you expect are student essays and lesson plans. They emerge with a thick stack of paper held together by a binder clip. He hesitates, eyes locking on the pages before him.

You’re sure that whatever confessions he’s made or compassion he’s received, that this was the real reason he came here tonight. This was his mission and everything else was him dragging this out.

He leaves the stack on your kitchen table as he closes up his bag. You start putting together what he said to you the last time he visited. That he was writing about you two. But that had only been a few months ago, and this seemed like a polished piece. How quickly had he written this out, how furiously did he work to put your relationship on paper? Was this what it took for him to get over you?

You're still sitting, staring at the pages as he puts his bag back on. You’re still staring as he approaches you from the kitchen. You only look away when he places himself between you and your view of the novel. He starts to lean forward, lessen the space between you, but you stand up forcing him to inch backwards. 

“I figured you deserved to read it first. Only my agent and my editor have seen it before now, and they’ve helped keep me on task about it.”

“Has it sold?”

His blue eyes glimmer with something heavy, and he says, “I finished my last revisions before break, and we’re expecting a contract to come my way in a week.” So he had been working on this whole-heartedly.

It only comes out as a whisper, “Congrats.”

The edges of his lips turn up as he tries to give you a smile, but he doesn’t miss the pain in your eyes. His brows betray his skepticism. He leans toward you again, his shoulders hunching as he inches closer. You can smell his cologne. He hovers just above your face and you fold, closing your eyes and giving in to your pain. 

He’s so close, it reminds you of your first kiss. That night when his fingers guided your lips together in the dark, just barely brushing before you took control and told him this couldn’t happen. If you’d held on to that control you wouldn’t be feeling like this now. You wouldn’t have months of love and loss weighing down your bones.

You can feel the heat of his body when you break the trance. “Don’t,” is the only word you can manage.

His shoulders lift, his breath fanning hot against your skin, but he doesn’t pull away. His words crash into you as he says one last time, “I’m sorry.” Then he presses his warm lips against your forehead. 

Your heart thuds in your ears, but you know this is what you’ve been heading for. This is the true ending to your story together. This is the goodbye he thought you deserved. 

He pulls away before you realize your lids are still squeezed shut, before the warmth of tears building in your eyes wins. He goes to your door without you looking at him. And he leaves before the hot finality of this pain takes over, tears leaking as you sway against your couch. 

This feels different than before because you’re not angry at him anymore. In fact, you have very little anger left for yourself either. There’s just the rolling pain of sadness, the lifting of hope and fear, and the weight of acceptance. 

It steadies you as you go to the kitchen, as you pick up his manuscript. It guides you as you find your metal trash can and carry it to the parking lot. It holds you as you watch all of the pages and all his words about you burn.

Because you don’t need his perspective on you anymore. You don’t need to know what he thought of your time together. 

You lived through it. And you have your own experience to piece together. You have your own story to write.

And it will not be informed by him anymore.

_______________________________________________________________________

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[slytherinboysappreciation]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Oooh! Thank you so much for this!

Adoration - T. R. x fem!Reader

This was the first smut I ever wrote and the story that really started to gather followers. It’s still my favorite so far. Just the sheer angst of it all was cathartic to write

Bullied - Prof. T. R. x platonic gn!Reader

Ugh, I love this story! It practically wrote itself; I was so obsessed with the story idea. I love protective Tom almost as much as I love feral Tom

Stargazing - B. Z. x male!Reader

I love Blaise so much. Writing this had me falling in love with him even more

Just Cuddling - T. N x male!Reader

It’s Theodore Nott and teasing with the other boys. Honestly, my favorite fic for banter

Crush - L. B. x male!Reader

This fic still gives me butterflies to read! Just Enzo’s cuteness and how in love with the reader he is

#thank you so much for the ask! #this actually really helped remind me about all the things i love about my stories #slytherinboysappreciation loves pizzaapeteer #ask game #fic recs

[parkerpeter24]

You’re having a really bad day and Prof!tom notices and offers to spend the rest of the day with you to make it up to you, lots of reassuring words and a lil confession! Fluff to the max basically :’)

long day

pairing ➳ prof!tom x reader

w.c. ➳ 1.1k

warnings ➳ professor-student relationship (both are of age)

a/n ➳ rosie, happy birthday!! i wanted to post this today because what better day than today to post a prof!tom fic for you <3

tom was about to go off. he was about to go off like an alarm and there was no stopping him. he had just returned from a long day of running errands and making sure to sit with the librarian and get the stock of history books, his subject, that came in just a day before, stamped. his whole sunday had been ruined with all this and now he couldn’t find his favorite pair of sweats.

he plopped down on the couch of his apartment’s living room in work clothes finally heaving a relieved sigh. his next step was pulling out his phone from his pants’ pocket, dialing your number. he expected you to pick up the phone and listen about his excruciating day as he rambled on, but there was no reply from your end. he hadn’t seen you this weekend and he believed you were busy with assignments.

it was after five missed calls that tom threw his phone on the couch as it bounced against the leather, almost tipping off the edge. he was clear about one fact that you wouldn’t have gone to sleep this early in the evening considering your two am calls that were very evident in his call history.

he was desperate to have you pick up his call, his fingers working on their own accord, dialing your landline number without considering that your roommate could be the one picking up the phone.

you heard the landline ringing continuously but decided to ignore it just like the last five phone calls. you were exhausted but not sleepy at the same time. you didn’t feel like getting rest but your head was throbbing.

“corey?!” you called out to your roommate but got only silence in response, “can you get the call?”

receiving yet no reply, you rolled off the bed, landing on your knees on the carpeted floor before getting up and making your way outside with slumped shoulders. there were no signs of your roommate around the 2bhk apartment. you grabbed the landline in your hands before plopping down on the couch, finally answering the call begrudgingly

"hello?"

"darling, why aren't you picking up your phone, i've been trying to reach you for the longest time! i had such a bad day at work and when i need you, you're not even picking up my calls" tom rambled

"i was busy." your answer was precise, ignoring the way you felt yourself tense at his accusations, "uni and stuff." tom noticed how your voice sounded quieter.

"is everything alright?" he asked, now sitting up a bit straighter, worry lacing his smooth words.

"yeah, i'm good."

lie. he could see right through you. he might have had a bad day and he just wanted to talk to you, maybe even bitch about this one nagging colleague of his who won't stop talking about their kid picking up a block. now, tom loves kids but how many times can you hear a story, certainly not seventeen times in a day. but as far as he was concerned right now, he would've been at gunpoint and still asking you if you were feeling okay, because he could tell something was wrong.

"doesn't sound like good, darling." he let out slowly, as if he spoke any higher, he would irritate and give you one more reason to avoid his calls, "you at home?"

"mhm, i am." you replied.

you worried about sounding rude, making him want to get over with this call and finally get to relax after a long day, but the gears in tom's head were turning in other directions. never in a million years would you have thought his next sentence would be, "i'm coming over." tom stated, already working on putting his shoes back on.

you had thought about retreating to your bed but tom's text reading 'almost there' illuminated your phone screen sooner that you thought and soon enough you were making your way over to the door. opening it, you saw tom in his disheveled state, eyes slightly red and hair flying in all directions, bearing a dopey smile just for you as his hand lifted up a packet. you smiled at the sweet man, "what's that?"

"cupcakes, silly!" he made his way inside your apartment. a sense of relief washed over you as you recalled that your roommate had went out, however the fact that tom didn't make sure of that before coming over made your heart flutter in adoration and nervousness at the same time. after all this secret little rendezvous of yours had to end sooner or later.

"sounds delicious." you gave the older man a smile as you both made your way over to the dining table. tom pulled out a chair for you, making you chuckle, "such a gentleman." you remarked before sitting down.

it was a few bites into your cupcake when tom decided to bring up the question from before, "are you okay, darling?"

you felt your body tense as you gulped down the lump in your throat but tom's soft smile made you nod your head, "better now. i was overthinking about uni and how i could never be really good in any subject."

"what're you talking about? you're exceptional in my subject!"

"you're just saying that because you love me." you chuckled, taking another bite of your delightful cupcake, not giving another thought to the words that left your mouth. it was tom's turn to visibly tense, a sudden epiphany causing you to choke on the sweetness in your mouth, "n-no, i meant- i didn't mean to say that out loud!" you stuttered your way through words, caught off guard but you were surely making up a whole explanation about the words you'd just said, "it just slipped out, we can pretend that never happened, i'm just so stupid, you obviously don't love-"

and before you could go on another rambling spree, tom's lips were on yours. his hand caressing your cheek softly, lulling you in closer as his tongue poked out to swipe the remains of frosting off of your lips. a little upturn of your lips and tom was reciprocating the smile enveloping your lips. you couldn't help but run a hand through his messy locks as the both of you pulled back, oxygen signifying its importance, "i do love you."

you rested your forehead against his, finding pure adoration in his eyes. he did love you, maybe it was never about hiding what you had from everyone but keeping it for each other's eyes only, "i do love you too."

———

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