I Wonder If Leigh Bardugo Knows That She Named A Character "cow"

I wonder if Leigh Bardugo knows that she named a Character "cow"

Because my siblings in christ, in Arabic (in the dialect i speak, darja), baghra holds an incredibly negative connotation. If you call someone that, you're essentially calling them a fat, ugly, stupid cow.

THAT BEING SAID there's this one ad where a kid is asking his mother what kind of milk she got from the store and everytime It's on, I just imagine the darkling as a child asking for milk and I DIE DECEASE of laughter.

A Dance

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite your position in the First Army, your mother is eager to see you married. As a result, you’re persuaded to attend the first ball of the season. Luckily your brother Ivan is there, along with husband, Fedoyr, and the charming General Kirigan.

A/N: Ivan and the reader are portrayed as brother and sister, but there’s no physical description of the reader or mentions of a biological relationship between them so it’s as inclusive as possible

My Masterlist

“Vanya, please.” You beg desperately.

Ivan takes in your wide eyes and panicked breathing. He doesn’t hesitate, responding immediately. His arm loops around yours, guiding the two of you through the crowd of nobles gathered in the main hall of the Grand Palace.

Your fingers curl into the thick fabric of his kefta, and your vision swims as you attempt to figure out where he’s leading you.

As your older brother, Ivan has always sought to protect you, and vice versa. You were the first person he told when he wanted to propose to Fedoyr, and you’ve supported his every decision with unwavering loyalty.

The same can’t be said for your mother. She has always harboured a thinly veiled disdain for Grisha, particularly their General - the Darkling.

As Ravka’s lead cartographer and strategist, you have worked hard to secure your position as a Lieutenant of the First Army. Unfortunately, that does not provide you with an excuse to avoid this year’s courting season.

Ivan steers you both to the other side of the room, and you soon notice the two figures he is approaching.

You manage to smile briefly at Fedoyr, and his expression warms at the sight of you on Ivan’s arm. The two of you have always gotten along, much to Ivan’s faux exasperation.

“General,” Ivan greets the Darkling with a respectful nod. “May I present my sister.” He introduces you, and the General takes your hand carefully within his own. You drop into a short curtsy as he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss that you can feel warming it’s way through the fabric of your glove.

“Lieutenant Volkova, isn’t it?” The sound of your title, the one you earned not the one you were born with, brings a smile to your face. You’re surprised the General remembers your name, Ivan had taken Fedoyr’s last name. He was more a Kaminsky than he was ever a Volkov.

“Yes sir. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

“I believe you are to meet with me at the Little Palace in a few days time, Lieutenant.” Some of the tension leaves your shoulders, reassured by the reminder that you’re more than the pampered and prettied version of you thrust under the eyes of the court.

“That is correct sir.”

Ivan is in the middle of explaining that your mother had coerced you into partaking in this year’s season, when Fedoyr interrupts with a warning of,

“Incoming.” You turn your head in the direction of his gaze. Your mother is making her way towards your small group, and your heart rate picks up. She doesn’t waste time with a polite greeting.

“The Duke of Halmhend has requested your hand for the evening.”

Your stomach turns as you spot the man your mother is referring to. The Duke of Halmhend is a reasonably attractive man, and can often be somewhat charming.

It wasn’t often that you visited your family home, but during your last few visits the Duke had also miraculously dropped by for a visit. You don’t appreciate your mother’s attempts at matchmaking. Especially when the man is a Fjerdan Duke, who is also notoriously anti-Grisha and not particularly fond of Ravka - the country that you love and serve.

You find yourself lying on instinct.

“Please express my apologies to the Duke, but General Kirigan has already offered himself as my consort for the evening.” She doesn’t try to hide her displeasure.

“General Kirigan?” You smile and nod, hoping to every Saint above that she doesn’t cause any sort of scene.

“Isn’t that kind of him, madraya?”

She barely looks at the General, instead deciding to gift you with a rather frosty look before saying,

“I suppose I will be informing the Duke.” She spares Ivan a brief glance, before adding a sharp, “Good evening.”

The two of you breathe a sigh of relief, both of your shoulders slumping slightly as she disappears into the crowd.

“Saints, I can’t breathe.” You remark, fluttering your fan in attempt to cool the panicked flush from your skin. Your heart slows slightly, and your lungs feel less heavy. A small smile quirks at your lips as you spot a familiar hand movement from Ivan. “Don’t let mother catch you doing that.”

There’s a touch of sadness in your shared expression, and he squeezes your elbow between his fingers. You swallow hard, looking down at the skirt of your dress.

“I can’t marry him Vanya.” You admit, struggling through the emotion gathered in your throat. “He wants heirs. I refuse to bring children into a war torn world, and if they’re born Grisha… you know what he’ll do.”

He regards you solemnly. He knows what you mean. The unfortunate accidents that befall Grisha children from noble families who showcase their abilities too soon. Luckily Ivan’s power revealed itself when he was old enough to know he needed to hide it, until the Grisha testers arrived.

You had begged them to test you too, but you were otkazat’sya through and through. Despite the differences between you both, you would always have each other’s backs. You had lost your brother’s and your father to the war. Ivan was all you had left.

His arm curls around your waist, keeping you close, and staring down any man who considers approaching your group. Not that anyone would dare to with the Black General standing in front of you.

You had never met the General before, but Ivan had always spoke highly of him. You admired the man, who had provided your brother with a safe place to live and to achieve all he had done. The General was well known as the leader of the Second Army, and as a shadow summoner, the descendant of the Black Heretic.

Now that the man was standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but admire him for another reason. His black kefta fits his form perfectly, and the colour ensures that he stands out amongst the other keftas and bright colours worn by members of the court. His dark hair is thick, with not a strand out of place. You can’t deny the warmth that bloomed under your skin when his deep, dark eyes had met your own.

“You won’t marry him.” Ivan insists. Your brother has always been determined, a trait inherited from your father. A small, bitter smile tugs at your lips.

“There’s not much you can do Ivan. You’re practically estranged.”

“I don’t care. You’re not marrying him.” You nod in agreement.

“I’m not.”

The General steps away slightly, before turning to directly face you. The three of you all look at him curiously.

“I believe the waltz will be starting soon.” He informs you, holding his hand out towards you. Your cheeks warm, and you hurry to assure him.

“Thank you sir, but you don’t need to. I only sought to escape from the Duke.”

“And when the dancing begins and you appear to be unattended? Do you believe he will leave you in peace for the evening?” Your lips part as you attempt to refuse his offer. But he’s right. Not only that, but the thought of dancing with the General has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The General’s hand doesn’t drop, as he glances between your eyes and Ivan’s face.

“May I?” His voice is soft, asking for your consent as well as Ivan’s permission. Your eyes flicker to your brother, who nods.

“If it’s what you want.” He tells you quietly. You nod with a smile, before taking the General’s outstretched hand. Even through your gloves, you can feel the firm warmth of his fingers as they curl around your own. He smiles widely at you, and your heart skips for a moment. Your cheeks warm, knowing that Ivan and Fedoyr can both sense your reaction.

The crowd parts as he leads you towards the dance floor of the hall, giving you enough room to walk beside him and you can’t help but lean a little closer as you make your way through the people surrounding you.

“I’m not much of a dancer.” You warn him quietly, and the corner of his mouth quirks.

“I’m more than willing to offer instruction, Lieutenant.” His attention makes you giddy, and you can hardly stop the smile that spreads over your face.

When you reach the near centre of the dance floor, the General stops. Several couples have also gathered for the first dance of the season, an event that will either make or break a budding courtship.

You look down at your feet, ensuring that you’re in the correct position. The corner of his mouth quirks again, and the General’s arm slides perfectly around your waist. He nudges his palm against your lower back, encouraging you to take a step towards him.

“A little closer, don’t you think?” His eyes flicker down to your lips, and your own eyes are fixed on his. You can only nod, a little star stuck, as you step closer, your chest against his. His hand is warm and secure on your waist, and you have no fear of falling or making a fool of yourself.

Devoting all your time and energy into the war effort has given you scarce opportunities to dance, and never with such an alluring partner. Nerves take hold of you briefly, and you look down to ensure that you’re not about to trip over your feet.

The General’s finger hooks under your chin, guiding your eyes back up to meet his. There’s a reassuring warmth in his dark eyes.

“Just keep your eyes on me, and you’ll be fine.”

For the first time this evening, you finally feel like you can breathe.

Days in the Sun

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x GN!Reader

Summary: On a warm summer day, you sit on the lawn of the Little Palace with your friends, and become distracted by the sight of the General.

My Masterlist

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The sun casts a comfortable glow over your skin as you run your fingers through the neatly trimmed grass beneath you. Genya had offered you a place next to her on the picnic blanket, but you’ve always loved sitting in the grass on a sunny day. It reminded you of summers in Keramzin, when there was enough daylight for you to spend nearly the entire day outside and avoid the rest of the orphanage.

Nadia turns the page of her book, her brows crinkled with confusion as she reads the words in front of her. She asks a question and Marie attempts to answer her. Nadia has her Advanced Grisha History test coming up, and History has never been a strong point for either of the girls. You can’t suppress the fond smile on your face as they mix up a variety of different events and dates.

Genya lifts a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and glances over the lawn of the Little Palace to look at the small group attempting to clear some of the trees and bushes near the entrance.

Her eyes are mostly focused on David, as he attempts to explain to Ivan how to use the new garden blades he had designed. With the increasing heat, and the steadily rising afternoon sun, the majority of those working on the gardens have abandoned their keftas in a few small piles dotted around.

A bright smile fills your features as you spot Fedoyr jogging over to you. He’s not wearing his kefta, and his once white shirt is now covered in several smudges of dirt and grass stains. He even has a leaf stuck in his hair.

Fedoyr flops dramatically onto the ground beside you with a heaving sigh. He rests his head in your lap, as the girls around you chorus their greetings to him.

“Having fun?” You ask him with a smile, which he returns with his usual cheery expression.

“A lot more now.” He remarks, lifting his head up to look back across the lawn. You follow his gaze, and see Ivan wiping the sweat from his brow as he talks with David. Ivan’s frown is deeper than usual, so he’s no doubt confused by David’s explanations, which brings a smile to your face.

“Not that I’m eyeing your husband, but I see your point.” You tease with a small laugh, to which Fedoyr grins up at you.

You pick the leaf out of his hair, and Genya asks him how the work is progressing.

“It’s going well so far. It was good of the General to help us out.”

You lift your head up immediately, eyes searching through the group for Aleksander. You’re so busy looking for him, that you miss the look shared between your friends.

Then you spot him.

He’s abandoned both his kefta and tunic, so he’s dressed the same as everyone else. His shirt hangs loose, despite the breeches settled on his shoulders. His hair is messy, as it always is when he’s been running his fingers through it. You watch him lift a large piece of tree trunk onto the back of a nearby cart, and for some reason his strength surprises you.

“Your heart’s beating faster.” Fedoyr observes, and you shoot a sharp look at him. Marie and Nadia giggle at your reaction, and your cheeks feel hot regardless of the summer heat.

Shyly, your gaze returns to Aleksander, only to find him already looking in your direction. Even from this distance, you can see the corner of his lips quirk in a smile. Fedoyr raises a brow at you, no doubt in reaction to the flutter of your heart, as Aleksander begins to approach your group.

Everyone greets him politely as he stands in front of you all. He asks Nadia about her studying, and Marie about her extra combat sessions. He talks to Genya about her upcoming trip to Balakirev, and tells Fedoyr that his other half was wanting him, to which Fedoyr sits up from his position in your lap.

Then Aleksander’s eyes settle on you, and he says your name softly.

“I’m taking a walk around the lake. Would you care to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

You smile at your friends, before taking Aleksander’s arm and heading along the path that leads to the lake. Your group continues to watch the two of you for a long moment.

“Have they admitted it yet?” Nadia asks. Marie looks at her with a small frown,

“Admitted what?”

“That they’re in love with each other.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

Genya shakes her head,

“We would know if they had.” To which Fedoyr nods in agreeement.

“It will happen soon enough. Just look at them.”

Genya hums as the rest of them watch you, tucked into Aleksander’s side despite the heat. Even from such a distance, they can all see how relaxed their General seems, with a wide smile on his face as he looks at you.

“Almost as bad as you and Ivan.” She teases, and it’s Fedoyr’s turn to blush.

Marie sighs, resting her chin on her knees as she watches you and the General as you near the lake, and she admires the romantic silhouette the two of you make.

It's hard to explain the guilt that being an imperfect daughter gives you. You don't necessarily want to change yourself, you know who you are or know maybe what you are and it's closer to this then what your mother wants of you, but you wish you could be different, you wish you were a version of yourself that would be kinder and more comforting for your mother, who she could talk sweetly about with her friends rather then forcing her to be the mother with That Daughter.

But it's what you are. And she still loves you, you know that, for all you are. But maybe you both wish you could be less you and more a daughter.

helo!! May i request a tadashi hamada x f! reader where he has a big crush on reader but is too shy to strike a conversation with her?

Tadashi Hamada x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The Nerd Lab has a new occupant, and Tadashi's usually cool composure completely melts around her.

Warnings: Fluff! Reader Pronouns: She/Her

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"Who's the new chick?" "She looks so pretty!" "We should go talk to her!" "Everyone, everyone, before we interact we have to take into account the ultimate test..." Tadashi heard a collective groan as he emerged from his personal lab into the communal area. He saw his friends recoil from Fred as he held up one of his comic books. "What does that have to do with making a new friend?!" Wasabi snatched the comic book from Fred's hands. "If she rolls with comic books, she can roll with anything," Fred smirked. "Who're we talking about?" Tadashi interrupted, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Oh! Hey 'Dashi!" Honey Lemon waved. "There's a new girl here, she's right over-" "Hi, can you guys help me out? I'm a little lost." Honey Lemon was interrupted by a voice Tadashi could only describe as similar to angels singing. He turned his head and quickly figured out why. She stood next to Gogo and Honey Lemon, clutching her books close to her chest. She seemed nervous around the group, although there really wasn't anything to be intimidated about in a group of absolute science nerds. She turned and made quick eye contact with Tadashi, and his heart skipped a beat upon the lock of her (e/c) eyes with his. "Yeah, no problem! Where do you need to go?" "Callahan Hall, 244," she responded to Wasabi, her gaze drifted to the comic book he had dangled above Fred's head. "Oh, is that a Lizard Mutant issue? I loved those when I was a kid!" "Yes!! Told you guys!! She's cool!" Fred exclaimed, fist pumping the air. Tadashi blinked away from his trance and checked his watch. "I'm uh.. heading that way in a few minutes, let me grab my book- I mean- my bag.. from my lab.. I'll walk you here- there!" "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he thought to himself. He jogged back to his lab, grabbed his crossbody bag, then came back to the group. By then, he could tell that the group was up to something, because he saw each and every one of them give him a look. Gogo and Wasabi traded a smirk that led its way to Tadashi, Honey Lemon gave him a big thumbs up, and Fred was too busy distracting the girl with their Lizard Mutant mutual interest. "Ready?" Tadashi called out to the girl, trying his best to ignore the three that were already onto him. The girl turned and nodded, waving to the group and walking out of the lab with Tadashi. It was quiet for a while, Tadashi trying to figure out a way to start conversation. As they opened the door to the lab that led outside, Tadashi of course holding it open, he formulated on a topic of conversation. "So uh..." he started, but quickly realized he was missing a vital piece of information. He didn't know her name. Tadashi's breath caught in his throat at the sudden realization. He coughed and took another deep breath, and turned to face the girl. He was almost certain he would faint. She was watching him with those (e/c) eyes, curiosity stemmed from his conversation start. Her facial features were absolutely gorgeous, as if sculpted by a Renaissance artist. She tilted her head, and he took notice of her (h/c) hair. The style, the length, the color; perfect. "I uh...." he muttered out, and her mouth curled into a smile as she giggled. He almost melted right then and there on the sidewalk. Her laugh was gorgeous. "You know, I never got your name," the girl questioned, taking the words right out of his mouth. That is, if the words would actually formulate. He hadn't even gotten to that step yet. "Tadashi," he said, relieved it didn't sound abnormal like everything else he had already said. "Nice to meet you, Tadashi," she smiled wider. "I'm (y/n)." It was Tadashi's turn to smile. He loved her name. It fit her so well. "Oh, there it is!" He snapped out of his trance to realize they had made it to Callahan Hall. The walk wasn't long enough. "I'll see you around?" she turned back to Tadashi. "I'll probably be back in the lab later!" Tadashi smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you later, (y/n)!" As he turned and made his way to his own class, he sighed. Maybe he could practice talking to girls with Hiro

or something.

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fiNALLY got back to writing, I’ve been absolutely mobbed with schoolwork and work-work. Phew! 

I hope you enjoyed!

CROSS THE LINE.

summary: you turn up late to class one day, and your professor takes notice and as a friendship starts to form. what happens when you're both willing to cross a line?

pairing: professor!tom holland x student!fem!reader

warnings: SMUT!! (extended warnings under the cut), fluff!! some angst??? (if you squint tbh)

word count: 10.3k (3.1k is smut <3)

extended smut warnings: p in v (unprotected, pls use protection!), fingering, oral (fem receiving), praise kink, slightly rough, back scratching, somnophilia (minor, not really). i think that's it, i could've missed something tho.

-

You tumbled into your first class with him. God, it was so embarrassing. The way you were late, half-asleep, and your hair all messy. Your clothes were dishevelled and creased. Sure, half of your outfit was your pyjamas, and it was the bottom half. Pyjama pants with flowers on them and a tank top that was a little too loose… and of course, you forgot to wear a bra! This day couldn’t get any worse for you – and it was just the beginning.

The look on your professor’s face was one you didn’t desire to see again. It was a mix of confusion and surprise. Eyebrows furrowed yet eyes wide when you stumble into the room through the large doors of the lecture hall. All your peers eyes were on you, and you were too embarrassed to meet anyone’s eyes when you make your way to a seat at the front of the room.

You also noticed that this was the new professor your last professor had told your class about… so, way to make a first impression! The rest of your class was used to you being late and showing up in your pyjama’s sometimes. Most of the pupils in the room were the same from last year – who had continued to choose this class as a part of their course, but you couldn’t imagine what was going through the heads of the newer people.

Let alone, your professor for the year.

You were itching to get out of there the moment you had walked in, the moment you sat down. But your new professor looked at you with a gleam in his eyes, telling you it was okay that you were late. You had muttered your sorries as you walked to your seat.

Your professor turned back to the class and continued what he had been saying before. Choosing not to acknowledge you any further. You looked over him.

He was quite young, and he had brown curly hair. It was quite long, but not too long in the sense where he could tie it up. He wore glasses and he was in a black button-down shirt, and a pair of black slacks. His coat was over his desk, and it was a shade of tan. His wrist wore a watch, though, you couldn’t really tell what kind it was. Just that it might be a little expensive. He was also wearing a chain around his neck. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up too. He had muscles and they clenched every time he brought his two hands together.

It wasn’t long before you caught yourself ogling your brand-new professor and as you looked over to the whiteboard, you found out his name is Professor Holland.

Time flew by in this class, you were taking notes and trying your hardest to listen, but the young professor had caught you off guard and you were struggling to comprehend half the things you would’ve understood last year with Professor Hemsworth. It was a struggle to concentrate with this new professor. The way he spoke was darling, his accent so strong and unique. You found yourself staring more than listening and you could already tell you were going to have major problems in this classroom.

As the class was dismissed, you suspected that you would be held back by the charmingly sweet man. Who said goodbye to most students that walked by and were prepared to say it back. He did in fact ask you to stay back.

Tom found you charming. He found your demeanour sweet. The way you stumbled into the room caught him off-guard, he can admit. But he knew it wasn’t from a place of malice, you were simply just late.

Tom walks up to you and sits down in the seat beside you, “Nice to meet you miss…?”

“L/n, but you can call me y/n.” You smile softly, “I’m sorry about earlier. I just…I woke up late.”

“Okay, Miss y/n.” He compromises, “Do you have any excuse? I understand that you’re a college student, but this is your first day.”

He approaches the situation with care, never making you feel like you were in trouble, even though you were. He didn’t make it feel like that at all. In fact, he made you feel calm and collected. Like you could actually get your thoughts out of your brain and have a real, decent, conversation. Which didn’t happen very often with quite a few professors – you loved Professor Hemsworth for the same reason. He made you feel okay. But this was different. You were staring deeply into Professor Holland’s eyes trying not to get lost.

It was funny how quickly your crush began to start. You had only known him for one hour of your life and you were already thinking about him without him having left the room.

“Miss y/n?” He asks, calling you out of whatever trance he put you in.

“Sorry… I’m just really tired?” You question yourself carefully, “I do actually have really bad sleeping patterns, so when I do sleep it’s, like, in the middle of the day or really early in the morning and I’m just really sorry.”

Tom shakes his head, “Nothing to be sorry for. I get it’s something you can’t necessarily control, but please do try to get to class on time. Regardless, if you do find yourself in need of help or late again, my office is open during office hours and I’d be happy to help you understand, clarify, or run through things.”

You smile softly and Tom returns it, “Thank you, Professor. I’ll… try my best not to let myself be late again.”

You exit the room in a hurry, in order not to embarrass yourself further.

*

The days are long as you wait for your next class, eager.

You enjoy the class; you enjoy the content. But recently, you’ve found yourself enjoying the view in front of you. It was wrong and you knew that. You shouldn’t be ogling your professor of all people. But it was just a stupid attraction. You’d heard other girls in your class talking about it too and it’s not like you’d actually act on what you were thinking. It’s not like you would tell him.

Stuck in the library was where you were, doing your homework for your Ancient History class. Professor Holland had assigned a task on Ancient Egypt and the mummification process. Basic stuff but needed in order to continue to the rest of the course.

You were sat upstairs in a tiny booth. Books sprawled out all across the table and your glasses fogging up every so often because of how warm it was in the room. You had to keep taking them on and off to wipe them and it was getting annoying, but your angry huffs weren’t helping and the way you held your hand to your mouth breathing into it whilst you read was not helping.

You had your pen tucked behind your ear and a number of different coloured sticky notes you were using to annotate the pages.

It had been five days since your Ancient History class – five days since you walked in late and embarrassed yourself. You had a class tomorrow and you were trying not to stay up late, but time was getting away from you again. Albeit you were actually tired, you were trying to cram in as much information as possible so you’re not caught off in class again and you didn’t want to make the walk back to your dorm at the moment, but you knew you would have to tread through the dark, cold night with nothing but a flashlight.

You started to slip away into slumber on top of your hand, your book sliding underneath your elbow and you started to let yourself go. Your eyes were drooping shut and your head started to hit the book as if you had a nice, warm, pillow to keep you here. You knew you shouldn’t fall asleep in the library, but you couldn’t help yourself. It didn’t close till eleven and you knew that you could get in a few hours as it was only eight. Given, when the library did close, you would be awoken by the librarian who would be somewhat mad, but you’re in here so often that she wouldn’t be terribly angry. Only slightly.

But someone cleared their throat, jerking you awake. Your glasses were fogged as you tried to make eye contact with who was trying to get your attention and you took them off quickly rubbing the lenses, making eye contact with who you would assume was the librarian waking you up because the five minutes of sleep you thought you were getting had actually turned into the four you thought you had signed up for.

But you blinked again, as you looked up, you noticed the familiar black slacks and yet, today, he wears a spotted purple button up. The rolled-up sleeves that just touch his biceps and he wears his own glasses, his eyebrows are raised as he looks at your messy hair and tired eyes.

God, you had embarrassed yourself in front of your professor… again.

Your smile is calm and collected, as if he didn’t just catch you falling asleep over your Ancient History textbooks, “Hi, Professor,” you say softly, pushing up your glasses.

He smiles, “Is Ancient History really that boring?” He questions you.

Your eyes widen and you’re talking quickly, unable to fathom the amount of embarrassment you feel, “No, no, no, I… just, I’m so tired. Ancient History is great! I’m really enjoying the subject so far and the content is superb!”

Professor Holland chuckles, shaking his head, “I’m only messing around.”

Thank god. You forget he’s young – that he can actually joke around. He looks like he’s thirty and although you’re only twenty-three, you forget that seven years isn’t much at all.

You let out a slightly awkward laugh, “…Right, well, I’m just trying to be prepared for tomorrow.”

“I’m glad that you’re sleeping.” He comments, remembering the way you walked into class late, “Although, I’m not quite sure that the library is the best place to do so.”

You groan, “I swear I was awake a few minutes before you got here, I was only just starting to fall asleep.”

“Well, I’m sorry I disturbed your nap.” He says softly as he sits down, his features are the same, soft and watching you with careful eyes as you move the sprawled books getting them all into a pile to make space for him.

He sets down his book bag next to him, pulling out his laptop, “Do you mind if I work here?” He questions you, hesitant.

You shake your head, “Do you mind if I fall back asleep?” You chuckle.

He shakes his head, “No, but I do think your dorm would be a better substitute than an uncomfortable couch.”

“My legs are numb,” You sigh, “I think I’ll be alright.”

He laughs as you place your head back onto a book, feeling the tiredness take over you again. You were slightly self-conscious of how you might look, if you might drool. But the feeling of sleep overtook any worries you might have.

Tom hadn’t really gotten to know you. But he knew you the most out of all of his students and you were… goodness, you were just captivating. He knew he shouldn’t look at you sleeping like this. There was nobody in the library to catch him staring at you as you slept. There were people on the bottom floor, but nobody at the top and you were adorable.

You were adorable when you looked up at him. You were adorable when you were nervous. He loved making you nervous. He had only done it twice, but he wanted to keep doing it. He wanted to keep making you flustered and as he watched you sleep he found himself thinking about much more. How your lips were pursed against the book. How they might feel like the pillows you dreamt of sleeping on.

Tom cursed himself quietly, trying to keep his eyes on the screen of his laptop in desperate attempt to get you out of his head. He was your teacher. You were his student. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like this – maybe the two of you could be friends but that would only be after the year was over. He finds your company enjoyable.

When you walk into class the next day, you’re refreshed. Better yet, you’re there on time. As students filter into the room, Tom takes notice of you, and you meet his eyes. He smiles at you softly, knowing the nap you had last night must’ve helped you.

Tom had offered to drive you home and although you told him you wanted him to, you were fine walking in the dark, not wanting to be a bother to him. Telling him that your dorm was only a few minutes away. Tom wasn’t really sure, wanting to see you get home safe. But you had declined, and he wanted to respect that – he wanted to respect you.

You felt your stomach flutter as the attractive young professor looked over at you. Today, he wears brown slacks and a white button down. Today, his sleeves are pulled all the way down, and his tanned coloured coat sits on the back of his seat. But Tom stays standing, pacing around the class as he explains things. You watch the way his hands move as he talks and writes things up on the board.

You were actually taking notes when you weren’t distracted by the sound of his voice or the way his curls cascaded down his head or the way his brown eyes lit up when he got excited about something in particular. The way his muscles tensed when he got really passionate about something, or when he would push up his glasses in the cutest way because they fall down when he speaks.

You take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you watch him. His voice is like velvet and that accent just gets you every time. You don’t know what you’re doing. Why you’re thinking this way. You’re holding out for something more, and it’ll never come. You’ve known him for a week, of course it won’t.

It shouldn’t… it couldn’t.

You were distracted in class for much longer than you thought you would be. It wasn’t good. You debated leaving the class – but you loved it too much to leave. You loved the content. You love what you’re learning. But it’s so hard to focus when there are thoughts of the man you have to watch teaching you every single time you have class.

When class is dismissed, you find yourself knowing a tad bit more about the subject, but your mind still needs some refreshing. You debate going over to Professor Holland’s office after your last class of the day around six o’clock. But you decide against it. You wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself again by not knowing some of the content, especially after being caught in the library asleep over your books the night before, studying for what this unit of content would bring.

Tom was trying to shove thoughts in his mind about you away. You were so beautiful. When you walked into the classroom, he tried his best not to keep his eyes on you. In a pair of jeans and a cute jumper that was just a little too big for you. You kept a pen behind your ear. You had done the same thing in the library the previous night and he wonders why... You’ve got a pencil case in your hands. Maybe it’s for convivence, maybe it’s for fashion. Maybe it’s one of your little quirks – the rest he has not discovered yet, but very much wants to.

But he can’t, he shouldn’t, and he wouldn’t.

He made a promise to himself that he would stay away from you – even though you were so captivating. Even if you were drawing him in. But he also didn’t want to seem like a creepy professor that had something for his student. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. He wasn’t quite sure what he had for you. Maybe he was yearning for a new friend in a place where he was all alone. In a place where he had nobody. He had just moved from England over here to teach and all he had was Tessa – a cute dog.

A cute dog to which he walks every single morning and just so happened to cross your path while doing so.

It was one of those mornings where you had actually managed to wake up early and get a goodnight rest. You don’t know why you were suddenly getting so much sleep. But you had been happier, livelier.

You wore a scarf and a pair of leggings and boots. A Henley too, one that dipped just a little too low and two of the buttons that held your shirt together undone. You held a cup of something that had some steam coming out of it. Tom wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew that you looked beautiful.

… and Tessa must’ve thought so too because she ended up pulling herself away from her leash and running over to you. Which left a failing Tom running after her as you pet her.

“Where is your owner…” You say softly bending down, taking a look at the collar that sits around her neck, “Tessa?”

“I am very sorry.” A familiar voice speaks, and you want to run you want to hide. Tom had been your professor for four months at this point and the two of you hadn’t really talked since the library where he watched you sleep, and you fought the urge to stay away and watch him work.

You’d be lying if you said your crush on him hadn’t escalated, your roommate Zendaya knew about it, and she scolded you when she found out and it was followed by your pleads begging her to stop and you just saying ‘I know’ over twenty times. The air was still a little cold, but started to get warmer.

Your eyes grazed over what he was wearing – you’d learnt very quickly that his fashion taste was actually quite put together. That he was quite put together in himself. The watch that you couldn’t catch site of on your first day was actually a rolex and you had every urge to ask him about it, but fiend away, scared of what would happen or what could happen. A relationship could blossom.

It's not like you didn’t want to be his friend – you would love that. Many students often are quite close with some professors in a platonic way and then again, they were also the professor’s TA. Helping the professor mark. Keeping a strictly platonic relationship. Something you thought you couldn’t do.

You scoff with appreciation, “There’s no need to be sorry! She’s so cute.” You stay on your knees, scratching behind her ears as she tries to give you a kiss and you let her give you one, with a laugh.

Tom thinks you look beautiful, against the morning sun with a cup of whatever you’re having and laughing, your laugh is probably the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. All he can do is smile down at you and Tessa. He’s admiring your outfit still, trying not to let his eyes go down to your cleavage, but your laugh and smile is just too much for him. He’s trying to remain professional.

“So, where are you headed?” Tom questions softly as you stand, almost meeting his eyes. You’re just a tad shorter than him and the smile you give him is the most beautiful he’s ever seen. He begins to think you are the most beautiful person, being, he’s ever seen.

You take a sip of what’s in your cup, shuddering, the warmth, and a cold breeze hitting the two of you, “The art department.”

“You’re an art student?” He questions.

You nod careful, “Yeah, only on the side, though… I actually major in Archaeology.”

He smiles bashfully, “So that’s why you take my class.”

“That’s why I take your class.” The two of you are now walking toward the arts building on the campus.

He looks over at you, thoughtfully, “Why Archaeology.”

“God, it’s terrible, it’s so embarrassing.” You sigh and deadpan, biting back a smile, “I can’t tell you.”

He scoffs, “Of course you can. C’mon, humour me. It can’t be that bad.”

“Right, so originally, I got into it through playing Uncharted and Tomb Raider. I used to want to be Lara Croft so bad.” You laugh, throwing your head back, “But when I actually started getting into it a little more than just wanting to be Tomb Raider, I really actually fell in love with it.”

“That’s not embarrassing.” Tom concludes, “Maybe a little, but it led you to the thing you love and if I might speak on the topic, Uncharted and Tomb Raider are brilliant games.”

“You’ve played?!” You question a little shocked and Tom’s jaw drops.

“I’m not that old!” He’s slightly offended and your eyes widen to what you’ve implied – he’s flustered you once more and now you’re beginning to trip over your words.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I was just… people don’t usually-”

“Relax, darling, I was only joking.” He places a hand on your shoulder.

Everything stuns you. His hand on your shoulder. The pet name he uses. It slips off of his tongue so effortlessly, as though he says it all the time. But yet, you’re still caught of guard. Tom feels your body tense and awkwardly removes his hand as you feel flush. He can see how embarrassed you just are.

“Oh.” You say softly, “I’m still sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He says with a small smile, and you meet his eyes, smiling all the same.

The two of you had forgotten about Tessa when the two of you stop, but she tugs Tom’s leash, pulling him slightly, making him jump, breaking the two of you out of this trance that was held for a short moment.

The two of you continue to walk, noticing that your classroom isn’t too far from where the both of you are, Tom notices you taking another sip.

“This might be weird, but I’m dying to know what’s in the cup.” He sighs, “I can assume it’s coffee, but with you I’m not quite sure – you can tell a lot about a person from what’s in the cup.”

You hum, “Interesting, how would you know if I’m lying or not?”

“I have faith in you.” He shrugs with a teasing grin.

You chuckle, “It’s a white-hot chocolate.”

Tom looks baffled for a short moment, “White hot chocolate?”

“Yeah! Hot chocolate but instead of milk it’s white.” You look down at your cup, feeling a little flush, “It’s sweeter than normal hot chocolate… I’ve got quite a sweet tooth. Like a terrible sweet tooth.”

He smiles, “That’s not a bad thing. It just says you’re a happier, more open person, and from what I’ve seen over the past few months in class, you are quite a happy person, but a little more reserved than most.”

You nod at the observation, “I’m not sure that’s a good thing either.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You shrug, “I have one friend. I can’t even lie. She’s my roommate too.”

Tom chuckles, “Well, I’ve got no friends and I’ve been here for six months. Most teachers here are quite old, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but some of them aren’t that nice either.”

You scoff, “Right? Like what stick is up your ass?” You question, and immediately cover your mouth with your hand.

Tom’s laughing as he watches you do so, “No, darling, I quite agree with that statement.”

The pet name catches you off guard again, but this time you’re able to move over it a little quicker than before.

You look at him, debating your options, is this the right choice? Are you making a good decision? Clearly you weren’t quite thinking when you said this, blinded by his smile and his puffy thin lips that smiled against the cold air.

“I’ll be your friend then.” You smile.

Tom smiles, and it’s big, he’s also scared… he also doesn’t care. He’s too conflicted right now, but, regardless, he says it anyway.

“I’d really like that.”

*

Being Tom’s friend was less awkward than you expected. You practically became his TA. Scratch that you did become his TA. Which consisted of long nights in his office marking papers. Sometimes you’d fall asleep on his desk and Tom would throw his coat over you to keep you warm. He couldn’t help but watch you sleep. He just couldn’t.

You were so adorable. He could look at the sight for ages. But he’d be dammed if he let himself.

“You know, I am sorry about falling asleep every time we do these late-night marking sessions.” You say quietly as you stir awake from your tiny nap.

Tom scoffs, “Nonsense. You need the rest.”

It had been two more months since you decided to be his friends and the two of you did this two times every week, helping him catch up on marking classes that you weren’t in. There were a lot of papers, a lot of homework. Every time you weren’t quite sure what to do, he’d help you. His mouth would be close to your ear as he explained, and you could feel yourself feeling flush all the time. He awakened something in you that made you want to scream. Made you want to turn around and just put your lips onto his.

Tom felt the same. He didn’t know why he let himself get so close to you, or teach you like this when he could simply pull the laptop or stack of papers across the desk and show you like that – upside down, anything else. But you were so timid and nervous that he thought getting up and helping you would be a much better idea.

Turns out it was, for him at least. Being so close to you. It was like you were this force. You were unexplainably so beautiful, and you radiated warmth… and god, you were an addicting thought to his brain. But Tom couldn’t admit it to himself, he was so ashamed of how he would lay in bed at night and touch his cock to you, wrapping his hand around his tip imagining it was you.

You had done the same, too. Touched yourself, thinking about his tongue in place of your fingers. Eating out your pussy and licking your cunt. He was probably the most addicting drug you could possibly ever had, and you never even had him. You never would.

If you knew what Tom was doing, he thinks you’d think he was some fucking weirdo, and you thought the same. Even if the two of you were now friends, there was this line you would never even dare to cross.

He drove you home from the library now and you couldn’t decline. He just wanted to see that you got home safe. But late nights in his office, very quickly became most hours of the day. You’d join him for lunch and dinner. Even breakfast in the morning at the café not far off campus where the two of you would eat and walk Tessa.

But when you were in class, god, you were distracted by everything he did. Same thing with outside of class. But in this room, you could be obvious because his eyes weren’t on yours at all times. Your eyes would trail down to his lips and wonder what it would be like to kiss them. You wonder what they’d feel like on your clit, eating you out, for orgasm after orgasm. You also wonder what they’d feel like comforting you after you got a bad mark on an essay for another class or felt upset.

You wonder what it would be like to go shopping with Tom. What were his habits? Did he sleep with or without socks on? What’s his favourite colour of all time and he claims it’s red but you’re like eighty-five percent sure it’s blue because he owns everything he has in blue. Does he brush his teeth with water on the brush first, after, or not at all? You wondered if he lets Tessa sleep with him in his bed and what it would feel like to have her at the end of the bed whilst the two of you watch TV and cuddle.

This whole thing wasn’t just sexual desire – it was desire for a relationship. To be able to love and care for him and help him when he’s upset. To be able to comfort him. Tom Holland was living in your head, and it was impossible to get him out.

At first it was purely a sexual desire, a physical attraction to the man. But once you got to know him, you were whipped for him. You needed more than that.

But it would never happen. Because Tom Holland was your professor and your friend. You were his teaching assistant and god forbid you ever let anything happen. At least while he’s teaching you. You’re nowhere near graduating and if you did have plans to make a move, you were at least two years away and there was no way you could wait that long.

Tom’s thoughts were oddly similar. He also thought of the mundane things the two of you could do. Going shopping was one of them, no matter what – for clothes, or groceries. A random drive to some gas station to get ice cream or milk. He wanted to know your daily routine and he wanted to do face masks with you, or let you paint his nails. Anything, he’d do anything with you. In all honesty, all he wanted to do was spend time with you and obviously, he’d want to have sex with you. He’d want to make you cum over and over and over and over again. He wanted to taste your orgasm on his tongue.

But this wasn’t a sexual, physical attraction anymore. He wanted you. He wanted all of you. He wanted all your weird quirks and he wanted to tell you that he’d love you if you were a worm because he’d always love you. He always would and he couldn’t stop himself. He could never stop loving you.

You sat in his office, using the red marker to cross another wrong answer. You were marking for Tom’s third Ancient History class, and he sat across from you, doing the same. Except, for the class you were in.

Tom looks up at you, “How about we take a break?” He questions softly.

You smile, “I was waiting for you to say that.”

He matches your grin, bringing his chair to the other side of the desk where you sat, so the two of you could be just that tad bit closer, “What are you doing for break?” He questions you.

You shrug your shoulders, “Not much, honestly, everyone I know is going back home, but I don’t really have much to go back to, so I think I’m staying on campus.”

The look on Tom’s face is sorrow, hearing that you don’t have anything to go back home to. Wishing that he could be your home. Wishing that you were coming back home to him.

He chuckles, “I’m doing the same. I’ll be busy marking mid-terms. I’ve got family back at home, but they’re really all doing their own thing, mum and dad, my brothers, we only all really get back together at Christmas or for the holidays.”

You nod carefully, “That must be nice… my dad’s want me to go back home, but they got divorced a few years ago, I dunno,” You sigh drawing out a stare to your lap, “Feels like it all crumbled… they miss me, and I miss them, but we’re not much of a family anymore, y’know?”

Tom nods, listening intently, “It’s okay. You deserve to have your own feelings and if that’s the way you feel, then that is totally okay.”

You don’t notice it at first, but Tom’s hand had found its way into yours. When you did, all you could do was hold it. Your fingers intertwined. The air in the room had shifted and it was a good kind of shift. Like the two of you knew exactly what you wanted. Your faces getting closer and closer, the light of the room was dim, and a few candles sat around the room. But your eyes were focused on his deep brown eyes, the same ones you could get lost in forever. They drew you in and as Tom stares into your eyes, he feels the exact same way. He feels like everything the two of you had been trying to stuff down would overflow the bucket. Albeit he’s the first one to ask… you were both thinking it.

“Can I kiss you, y/n?” He asks softly, his breath hot on your lips.

You nod softly, “Yes please.” You mutter.

Your lips finally connect, and they are softer than you ever imagined them being. They’re careful and fit into yours. Your tongues move together carefully, in sync, both of you becoming breathless. Your lip-gloss on his mouth and your lips swollen as the two of you pull away with soft giggles.

*

Tom was taking you on a proper dinner tonight. Away from campus. Away from everyone who could get you in trouble – you had to admit, the rush of dating your professor… it was, well, it was fucking thrilling.

Tom met you in front of your dorm at seven-thirty, ready to pick you up.

…and you looked absolutely stunning, your dress was this deep shade of blue and you wore a white cardigan over it. A golden necklace around your neck. The dress had a sweetheart neckline, and he could tell the straps were thin just by the make. The material was lacey, and it was a short dress, but it also went past the middle of your thigh. It was modest and yet so fucking sexy.

You made your way into the car seat, pressing a kiss to his lips, “You look stunning, love.” He says against your lips as you pull away from him.

You bite your lip softly, “I could say the same about you,”

He was wearing a black button down, and a pair of black slacks, and although it was simple. It reminded you of the first day you met… him… “Ohmygod, is that what you wore when I first?”

He nods, “Yeah, I was feeling… sentimental.”

You chuckle pressing a chaste to his lips, “Do you want me to go change? I think I still have those pyjama pants.”

“Oh no, it’s okay.” He smiles, his eyes moving hungrily over your figure, “I much prefer you in this.”

Tom starts the car and begins to drive to the restaurant; his hand remains on your thigh, and it burns into your skin. You can feel yourself getting hot. Khalid is playing over the speakers, and you smile softly.

“You like Khalid?” you question.

He nods, “One of my favourites.” You hum in appreciation, turning back to face the window, but he can’t help but wonder, “Why?”

“Oh, no, I just thought you’d be into other stuff.” You sigh, “…and don’t ask me what because I dunno.” You bring your hand up to hide your face.

“Yes, you do.” He smiles softly, “I know you know, because whenever you lie, you get all awkward and antsy and it’s really cute, but I’d like to know.”

You groan and throw your head back, “Ugh! You’re going to think I think you’re old… which is not the case! I think you’re a perfectly appropriately aged man.”

“YOU THOUGHT CLASSICAL!” Tom gasps in horror, “You really do think I’m old!”

“OKAY I DID!” You laugh, “But Tommy, I don’t think you’re old, it just fits the whole Ancient History teacher vibe… and listening to classical music isn’t only for old people, I have plenty of friends who enjoy it… my roommate.”

He scoffs, “Okay.” He rolls his eyes and begins laughing with you, “What are other old things you think I like?”

“I dunno!” You sigh, “Classical music was probably the only thing. That and old books, but you do! So, I could only assume I would be right… you would want to go to an opera.”

He grimaces, “No… maybe the Phantom, but that would be the only exception.”

“Okay, I would go to that too.” You sigh, “I’m sorry, Tommy.” You pout softly and he looks at you, taking his eyes off of the road for a single, split of a second, just to admire you, before turning back.

“‘S alright, love.” He takes your hand with the hand that previously sat on your thigh and presses a kiss to it.

Dinner goes just the way the two of you want. Tom was a gentleman as always and you think he held one of your hands the whole of dinner – or placed a hand or touched you any way he could. He just wants to feel you.

You’ve been dating Tom for exactly three days. The two of you haven’t had a class yet, but you’re nervous, wondering if people might notice. Nobody comments on the fact that you’re his TA… and that’s probably because you’re his TA.

The two of you are walking down the streets of the inner city. A packed place far from campus where nobody can see the two of you and you can both live somewhat normally. You’re holding his hand, manoeuvring back to his car. Looking around at the lights and the people that surround you both.

There’s not much the two of you can say to each other. But him holding your hand, quickly turns into him pulling you into his side. Your feet in sync as you walk and it’s cold, but the warmth that radiates off of his body is just enough to keep you warm. You want to scream; you want to cry – you physically cannot believe this is happening and you can’t seem to grasp the concept of it mentally either.

“You wanna come over?” Tom asks you suddenly, you’re not quite sure what he wants to do, but you’re willing to do anything. Watch a movie or have him fuck the shit out of you. You truly don’t care. Though, you would prefer the second option.

You’re trying to bite back the smile on your face thinking of everything that could happen, “Sure, Tom. I’d love that.”

You finally get back to his car, sliding into your seat and Tom drives back to his place. You can tell he’s really nervous – and he is. Tom’s thinking about if he’s cleaned his apartment or not, or if Tessa’s made a mess whilst he’s gone. He’s worried and you can sense it. So, all you do is whilst he drives, tapping his fingers like an anxious mess. Is place your hand on his thigh, letting him know everything’s okay. Your finger smoothing over the surface of his skin.

When you finally arrive at his apartment complex, which isn’t too far away from campus, but not close enough. The two of you were really paranoid, it was a risk, but one the two of you were ultimately willing to make, it seemed.

You made it up to his complex and you were met with Tessa running for you, and all you could do was beam, “Hi Tess!” You cheer as she nuzzles into your neck, giving you kisses.

Tom admires you as he turns on the lights in the apartment, it finally gives you a chance to stand up and look around. He’s got a nice tv and a couch in the shape of an L. The apartment is quite modern, the windows are large, and the kitchen bench is made of marble. A white rug covers the hardwood floor and there are two doors that slide open leading to his room. There are pictures on his TV stand that you could assume are of him and his brothers and some with people you could clearly see are his parents. One of him and Tessa reading what seems to be a screenplay, and one of the two of them sitting on a lounge, just like the one he’s currently got.

He takes note of you walking around, observing the place around him, “What do you think?”

You turn to face him, “I think it’s very nice.” You’re walking over to him as Tessa jumps onto the couch, curling into the brown material.

“I’m glad you think so.” He kicks off his shoes, encouraging you to do the same, “Well, I’m not quite sure where we go from here… I should’ve thought ahead if I wanted to bring you back.”

You sit on the couch, “We could watch a movi….” You trail off as your eyes meet the PS4 sitting on the bottom of the TV stand, “Ohmygod! We are playing this.”

He shakes his head frantically, “What would we possibly play?”

You smile knowingly, “You got Tomb Raider?”

*

“NO! Tom! Ohmygod, pass me the controller.” You say furrowing your eyebrows in frustration.

He pulls his arm away as you go to grab it, “No! I can do it! I can do it!”

“No, you can’t!” You throw yourself onto him in desperate need to grab the controller, to take it away from him and complete what he was so clearly struggling with.

Lara falls to her death again as you find yourself on top of Tom. The controller on the floor.

“Hello.” He whispers as your faces are close, leaning in to press his lips on to yours, your tongue swiping the bottom of his lip asking permission to go further into the kiss. His mouth opens slightly, letting you slide your tongue inside. His hands begin to trail your body, sending a shiver down your spine, making you mewl against his lip and the two of you sit up, lips still connected as you sliver your way on to his lap, grinding your hips softly as he cups your ass in both of his hands. His kisses moving from your lips, down to your neck and your exposed chest from the dress that you wear. Your cardigan was discarded long ago and now Tom’s kisses were placed, leaving small hickies and squeezing your ass. As your hips grinded against his crotch, you could feel him getting harder and you could feel yourself getting wetter.

You could feel Tom groan against your chest as he leaves kisses, “Fuck.” You throw your head back slightly.

Tom’s groan only confirms the desire both of you are feeling. His hands still on your ass and you manage to straddle his legs as he begins to pick you up, bringing you to his room. He places you softly onto the bed. He moves in between your legs, his thigh in between yours as the two of you continue to kiss.

Tom’s kisses are back on your lips, his breath hot on your ear as he whispers, “Been waiting for this since the first day I saw you.”

Your breath hitches, “Me too,” You whisper, and Tom’s lips are back on yours, the desire is heavy but also slow and passionate yet so needy and both of you are dying to get closer and closer; closer than you’ve ever been before and it’s becoming too much.

Tom’s hands expertly remove your dress, pulling down the zipper, exposing your naked body, your tits going hard as they hit the cold air and Tom wants to drool. All you wear is a pair of panties. He wants to take your cunt; he wants to lick all of you. Have his mouth and cock on every single part of your body.

Tom’s thumb slides underneath the waistband of your panties, “Darling, can I?” He questions softly and you gulp but you nod. You’re nervous and no matter how much you want this Tom can tell, “If you don’t want this-”

“No.” You stop him quickly, “I want this. I want you.”

He smiles, pulling down your panties as you lay back down on the bed, your head falling in the soft cotton of the pillow. Tom’s head falls in between your thighs, kissing and kneading the skin. Teasing you carefully, making you eager, making you need more. You’re squirming underneath his touch. Your naked body desperate for his tongue on you, desperate for him. Eagerness grew, anticipation made you wetter and his finger grazing over the slits, over the lips of your pussy. Your head falls back against the pillows a little more.

His thumb dips a little, getting his finger wet in your juices, “Fuck you are so goddamn wet.” He speaks carefully.

It’s not a moment longer before your legs are spread apart by his hands a little, dipping his tongue around your clit, sucking, and devouring your pussy with his mouth. Your hand travels into his curls, gripping them tightly.

You can feel the way his tongue circles your tiny nub, flooding you with pleasure. Lapping over the wetness, “You taste so fuckin’ good.” His words are slightly muffled by the way he lifts his head and the skin of your thighs.

His tongue is slow at first and shifting in between a faster pace. Some of the strokes against your tongue are quick and short, kitten licking your throbbing, pulsing clit. Making you moan and mewl underneath the slightest of his touch.

His tongue is enjoying this. He is enjoying this. The way your back arches against his mouth and the way he’s making you feel so good. All he wants to do is sing your praises. Tell you how good of a girl you’ve been. How good of a girl you are being. He loves the way you taste, so sweet, and he loves how you needily grab the curls in his hair, desperate for him to go furhur. Put more pressure on your clit – and so that’s what he does. He’s sucking, licking and nipping his tongue at your clit, taking your pussy into his mouth. He can hear you becoming needy. He can hear you needing that release.

“Darling, are you going to cum?” He questions, his mouth still against your pussy as he speaks, lifting for the smallest, shortest of a second, hearing your mewls as he’s bringing you to the edge. Right to the goddamn fucking edge.

“God, Tom!” You moan as your head falls back and your back continues to arch, your legs are starting to ache. You can feel yourself cramping up slightly, but you don’t care because it feels so fucking good. You can feel that pit of desire forming deep down in your abdomen, fire, burning desperately, needing to be put out. You feel yourself getting closer… and closer… and you need to break, you desperately need to feel yourself break.

“Tom, I’m going to cum!” you moan in pleasure, gripping onto his hair, harder than ever before, pulling lightly at some of the strands.

“That’s right, darling, cum all over my face, cum all over my mouth.” Tom speaks before he continues to push you right to the fucking edge.

The moan of his name is defeating as your orgasm floods his face and his mouth and Tom groans against your pussy, against your throbbing, pulsing clit. So sensitive and attentive for everything that he wants to do to you.

Tom’s lips fall back onto yours and you can taste your sweet orgasm all over his lips and you moan at the taste of yourself – Tom smirking against your lips.

Tom doesn’t give you long before his fingers slide into the cunt, that hole that was anticipating this, that craved this. Your body folding underneath his touch, “You think you can cum for me a few more times, darling?” He questions you and all you can do is nod.

“Y-Yes,” You try not to moan at the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you, pressing against your g-spot, making your body feel nothing but pleasure, from your legs to your feet and you can feel your legs beginning to feel strained because of your last orgasm, but you wanted this. You wanted Tom to finger-fuck you and make you cum, you wanted Tom to fuck you and cum inside of you as you cum and feel both of you mixing together.

His lips remain on yours as he pumps, he pumps you so aggressively, as if you’re the only one in the world, as if he’s the only man for you – it’s as though he’s claiming you. He’s making you his and he’s making sure that you know you’re only his and you do. You’ve never cum like that before. You’d never had an orgasm so good and that was only from his mouth. You couldn’t imagine what he could do with his throbbing, desperate cock.

Tom’s fingers press into you, there’s only two, but when he slides in a third your body physically folds, and you’re holding onto him for dear fucking life. Your fingernails digging into his back and your mind trails to what you’d feel like if he was fucking you. If he had his cock inside of your cunt rather than his fucking fingers. But regardless of your thoughts, which he knows you’re so desperate for his cock and as he kisses you, his tongue fucks you just like that. It makes its way around yours, as if he was licking and sucking on your cunt again, travelling deep down your throat against the rough and passionate kiss.

His fingers move in and out of your cunt so slick and covered in how wet your pussy actually is and Tom is groaning as he feels himself getting tighter in his pants, forgetting that he’s got his clothes on. But the friction of his fingers and his slacks against your pussy is just so hot. The fact that he’s wearing the clothes he met you in whilst he’s finger-fucking you is something he wanted so bad. It’s everything he’s ever thought about whilst he wrapped his own hand around his own cock and imagined your tiny, tight, little cunt around it. That’s exactly what your cunt was. Tight and tiny. Needy and desirous. So goddamn fucking wet – and it’s all for him. You are so fucking wet for him.

“Fuck, Tom.” You groan as your body curls into him as you pull away from the kiss to bite into his shoulder, feeling vibrations throughout your body, Tom can feel your cunt getting tighter, he knows you’re about to cum for him again and he can’t help but smirk as you mewl into his shoulder, feeling nothing but him and only him.

Your cunt is pulsing around his fingers as he pushes against your g-spot. God, seeing you like this is fucking addicting. It’s all he wants, you are all he wants and god, your cunt, your tiny little cunt tightening around his fingers is what he wants to feel when he shoves his cock inside of you.

“God, fuck yes, fuck Tom!” You scream, pressing your head into his shoulder again as he fucks you with his fingers, stimulating all of you. You can feel Tom growl in your ear, his breath is hot and full of desire and the feeling of your tits against the material of his button-down shirt turns you on more than you ever thought it could and all you want. All you fucking need is to cum again, “God, Tom! I’m gonna cum!” You scream as you can feel that addictive, burning sensation in your abdomen, feeling that release again – you need that release… and when it comes you are shaking against Tom’s body, feeling nothing but his fingers continuing to pump you and you orgasm, all over his fucking fingers.

Tom looks up at you, holding your chin with his hand, and you know exactly what he wants from you, and you do it. You open your mouth and let his fingers slide inside.

“God, you are so beautiful with my fingers in your mouth, darling.” He praises, “You like that? You like your cum all over my fingers, all in your mouth?” He questions and you nod against his fingers as your tongue curls around them, sucking off all of your dripping wet orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out and before he can do anything else you speak, you speak words for what feels like the first time in forever, drunk on the feeling of him. Desire making your vision hazy already and he hasn’t even begun to fuck you with every bone in his body, he wants to fuck you. He wants to make you feel so fucking good that you can’t even leave the apartment the next day because it’s impossible for you to walk without him carrying you around and taking care of you… and you know that, because you know he won’t stop. You know he’s not going to stop until you’ve had your orgasm surrounding his cock, all slick and mixing with his cum in your tight little fucking hole.

“Fuck me, Tom,” You speak quickly, “Fuck me, please, fuck me, please.” You’re begging and Tom can’t believe that you are because he’ll give it to you. He’ll gladly give you his cock if you asked. You didn’t have to beg? You just needed to let him know and he would let you have it all – Tom would give you the world if he could. Tom only wants to make you feel good.

He says it out loud so you can get it in your head, “Darling, you don’t have to fucking beg, you just need to ask.” He says stern, so that you know. So that you know that you’ll never have to beg for his cock. Never.

Tom gets off of the bed and you watch him strip. You watch him take off his black button down with this eagerness, desperate to feel all of you. His chest is so toned, and it makes you drool. You’re so drunk on him that your mind is flowing to other areas of all of this, licking his abs, humping them. Desperately needing to feel your body against his chest. But all of those thoughts are out the window when you see him pull down his pants and boxers, exposing his hard fucking cock and it’s long and it’s thick and you want to wrap your mouth around it, your hand wants to touch the slit of his cock and you want to have him fucking the shit out of your hole in every single way possible all at once. You want to grind against his cock, you want him to cum inside of you and your desire quickly takes over, and you notice Tom reaching in his nightstand for condoms, but you don’t want that. You don’t want that, not at all.

“Tom, I want your cum inside of me,” You speak, desperately, needing it.

He smirks as he looks over to you, but he’s also nervous, “Are you sure, darling?” He asks you softly.

You nod, eager, desperate, “Fuck, please. Yes.” You mewl, curling underneath his touch, needing him. Needing all of him.

Tom climbs back onto the bed and his leg slides in between your thigh and it takes all your strength not to start grinding up against him, not to start fucking his leg, pinning him down and rubbing your sensitive, pulsing clit all over his thigh, but you fight the urge, you fight the need because the need for his cock inside you is much more desperate for more. Desperate for his cock.

Tom angles you in the right way, the way he knows he’ll make you cum, the way he knows your body will curl up under him just like you had when he was finger-fucking you. Making you feel good with the limbs of his hand.

Tom slowly, but surely, pressing into you and you already feel so full. He’s barely inside of you and his thick cock is already filling you up. When his whole cock is inside of you, you groan, you mewl, you moan. Pleasure is all over your body, you feel full and he starts to move and when he starts to move, you throw your head back, feeling nothing but good. Your whole body needily clinging onto his. He begins to pump in and out of you, the slit of his cock touching your g-spot and Tom grunts and moans and you swear you could just cum from the sound of his desperate moans, all needy for you. God, he was probably the sexiest man you had ever seen.

Your body is like fluid, limb and numb from the way he had been fucking you this whole night, but you were desperate for more and you know if you don’t cum, you’re going to be disappointed in yourself, no matter how badly you need Tom’s cock to cum all up inside of you. You needily kiss him, holding his neck with your arms. The kiss is hot and desirous. Needy and full of want.

He begins to move his cock quicker, and you can hear his balls slapping lightly against your skin. Your legs are hitched a little and he holds on to you. Holding you in place so you don’t escape his grasp. So that you can feel everything he’s bringing to you. So that you can feel it all. All that pleasure building up inside of you.

Your fingernails are back in Tom’s back, gripping on for some form of sanity, but it’s escaping you so slowly as you begin to see spots. You’re cock drunk and only for Tom. Needily pressing your head into the nape of his neck as you moan, your bodies so close. So close you’re not even sure where you yourself begin. You’re fucking moaning, you’re coming closer and closer to coming and the way Tom’s cock is pounding in and out of your tight little wet cunt – the squelch of your pussy turns you on. Your cunt full of Tom and only Tom.

“Fucking hell, Tom!” You moan loudly, basically screaming and your words are slightly slurred as you begin to lose sight of what’s real or not. Feeling him inside of you is something of a dream and you’re going to throw yourself away, let yourself be cock drunk. Let your mind slip loose of its hold. He pumps in and out of you so hard and yet so sweet, but so fast and the pleasure. The pleasure is just building inside of you and it’s building inside of Tom too. Both of you desperate to feel that edge to feel his cum inside of you and to feel your orgasm wrap itself around his cock. God, it was addicting, your pussy was addicting.

Your bodies are made for each other and that’s quickly proven by the way he can pound against your g-spot and make you cum with nothing but that. Your fingers do move down to touch your clit but are quickly replaced by Tom’s.

“Fuck I’m so close.” He groans softly, his moan making you want to cum right there and them. How his voice is lost of breath and how he’s trying to speak but nothing is working for the two of you and you hold on to him tighter than before. Both of you are sweating but you don’t care.

“Fuck me too.” You confirm fighting the way it comes out as a moan, needing to let it out. To let Tom know how much pleasure he’s bringing you.

Tom’s pace quickens, he’s deeper into your cunt if that’s even possible and for the third time you feel your stomach burn needing that release, needing to let go and you do, you let go.

“Fuck, darling, that’s right, cum all over my cock.” Tom speaks gently as you can feel his cock twitch inside of you, the feeling of Tom’s release; his load filling your cunt and you moan as he slows his pace, riding you both off of your high.

Tom falls next to you with a soft groan you feel your legs start to burn, “Holy shit.” You mutter carefully, standing to go use the bathroom but your knees almost buck out from underneath you.

“Need some help, darling?” He whispers coming to grab your waist helping you to the bathroom, “You did so good for me,” He kisses your temple.

*

The next day you have class and Tom wants to drive you to class, but you’re not so sure. The two of you turn up early and you’ve got your hot chocolate and Tom with his tea. You both get to class early and before students begin to roll in, you place a kiss to his lips.

“C’mon professor, let’s hand out these tests.” You smile softly, “Try not to get distracted.” You say as students roll in and your smile brightens as you hand out tests.

Tom knows he couldn’t be luckier than to have you… and he’s getting distracted.

God, you are perfect.

-

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