Author’s comments: Tom being drunk and an asshole. 

The bar was crowded this evening. Everyone had just finished watching the football game on the telly and now they were roaring with laughter over mugs of chilled beers and peanuts. Everyone was also very, very drunk. Including my best friend, Tom.

“Tom, I think you had too much to drink.” I sipped on my cool water and looked at Tom with concern knitted in my eyebrows.

“No such thing, darling.” His words were clear enough for me to understand but a little bit slurred. “Why don’t we order another round? Everyone is happy tonight!”

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.” I strained my voice over the obnoxious cheers from drunk men by the bar. “Maybe we should go home.”

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Troublemaker || Chapter Two

Description: After your meeting with Tom in the school office, his invitation for tomorrow still nags at your mind. Does he really care enough for a relationship, or will he leave you in more trouble than he started?

Genre: Smut/ Erotica / Fluffish - Written from reader’s POV.

Character: AU!Tom/ High School!Tom/ Bad Boy!Tom

Rating: M

A/N: Hey hey hey! I decided to make this fic a multi-chapter, because I really like writing it. If you haven’t read the first chapter, please click the link for previous, and it will whisk you away to the magical world of chapter one. Reminder: both characters are 18, therefore are considered legal adults. Enjoy!! :) 

Chapter One



You walk briskly down the hallway, Scarlet close in tow.

“What…what the hell was that? That was… that was Tom Hiddleston, talking to you!! Telling you to meet him in the goddamn bathroom!” You stop and look over, nodding in thanks for her obvious commentary. “I- I mean… How… look, you should stay away from him, do you know how many girls he’s been with?”

You sigh. “You have no idea.” She looks at you funny. “What do you mean?” For a second, you contemplate whether or not to tell your friend about the meeting in the office. You’re sure that you wouldn’t tell her, or anyone for that matter, about what went on in the office, but you figured it wouldn’t kill you to share about your meeting him.

“Okay…” you say slowly, sitting down at the coffee shop you usually go to after school to talk, “I met him today. In the office.” Scarlett raises an eyebrow, signifying she wants to hear more, and you rub your forehead. “Uh, he was…put in the same room as me, he was in trouble for something…” “Figures,” she snorts.

There’s a second’s pause as she waits for more, but you uncurl your fingers, getting up from your usual table. “And, well, that’s it. That’s what happened.” You leave your bag by the table and walk in, Scarlet getting up and following behind. “Hey, turn around,” she says, and you do so, averting eye contact as you count your bills.

“You,” she says, and you look at her. “I know you, moron,” she states, smirking, “That’s not all that happened.” You roll your eyes, trying your best to conceal the fact that you were totally lying to her face. “So not true,” you say as you order your drink, and she goes on. “I thought bad boys weren’t your type! So, what happened, a little snogging with Tommy, huh?” You swat her away, and laugh. “You wish.”

She puts her hands on her hips, and frowns. “You guys were in there for what, like two hours together? What the fuck did you do then, play checkers?” You sit down with her. “Not every encounter with a hot guy has to end with sex, you know.” She grins. “You just admitted he was hot!” You blush furiously, waving your hand. “Change the subject, Scar, nothing happened.” 

She frowns, and you take a sip, concluding your point. “He’s an asshole anyway, and I don’t fall for assholes.” Scarlet shrugs, satisfied with your answer, and leans back. You take a deep breath, feeling slightly guilty for keeping something so incredibly exciting from your best friend, but it was necessary. Just in case word got out.

“So what’re you gonna do third period tomorrow?” “Shut UP!!”


That night, getting home was a drag, as you had mountains of homework to do. Studying for finals and dreaming about Tom were heavy things to balance, creating stress you really didn’t ask for. You trudge downstairs to make yourself some tea, and realize you left your phone downstairs. You plug it in with a yawn, and see two notifications waiting.

You open Scarlet’s, which is a crazy snapchat of her holding her dog like Simba on Pride Rock. You laugh, and go into the text. It’s from an unknown number, and you frown as you rack your brain for who it might be.

The message simply says, “Hello there.”

You bite your lip, wondering who it is. Possibly one of your friends changed their number. You type back, “Who is this?”

Within seconds, a reply comes in. “Have a guess at it.” 

You frown again, wondering if you should just delete the entire conversation, but then a thought nags at your mind. What if it’s Tom? 

But it couldn’t be Tom, because he wouldn’t know your number. So you text back, “Chris, if that’s you, I’m gonna kill you twice, one for earlier today, and one for this shit.” 

The message pops up again, and it makes your heart stop.

“This isn’t Chris, darling.”

Now you know it’s Tom. He’s the only one that’s ever called you darling. Shit, you think, panicking over what you should do. Call Scarlet? No. Call 911? Of course not, you scowl at yourself.

“How did you get my number, exactly?” you write back.

“I have my sources.”

You wiggle your eyebrows at this, and type out your reply, but another one from him comes in first.

“What are you doing right now?”

You stifle another yawn, and look back down. “Attempting to work on my homework.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“It would be working a lot better if you would stop texting me.”

There’s a pause in the flow of messages, and you wait to see if he’s finally left you alone. No such luck.

“I’m more important than homework, love, you know that.”

You scowl. The perfect, self-absorbed bastard. Now he’s calling you love?

“No pet names, Hiddleston. Now stop invading my phone.”

“You’re supposed to call me Tom, remember?”

“Stop fucking texting me, ‘Tom,’” you write back sarcastically, and there’s another pause.

“Alright then, as you wish. Remember our little meeting for tomorrow.”

You drop your phone back onto the counter as you shut the screen off, rubbing your hands together nervously as you decide against making tea and going upstairs.

Was he actually being serious? You think, Why would he want to keep talking to me? I mean, while we were, you swallow, fooling around today, as much as I hoped it would mean something, I wasn’t expecting it…

You push the questions out of your mind, glancing at the clock and realizing if you wanted to be awake for your classes tomorrow, you’d better get your work done soon.


You wake up, feeling confused and disoriented. You had had the weirdest dreams imaginable, and you try your hardest to remember what they were about as you shut your alarm, the song ‘Friday’ by Rebecca Black (Scarlet must have set it, she knows you hate it) off.

You think for a second, and as you get dressed you remember it. Everyone in the school had found out it was you over the P.A. system, and your reputation had gone every which way. To some, you were a hero for getting with the sexiest guy in school, and to others, you were just easy.

You would absolutely hate to be known as easy.

You worry to yourself about what you had been thinking. Am I easy? I mean, we barely knew each other for an hour, and I never even feel comfortable with a guy so much as hitting on me! What was it about this damn guy that you find so magnetic and…arousing?

You let out a frustrated noise as you fix your hair, and find your way downstairs. You check your phone in baited curiosity, but to your disappointment, find no new messages.

You meet up with Scarlet about a block from the high school, since she only lives a few minutes away.

“Did you watch last night’s Bachelor?” she asks, linking her arm with yours. You smile in bewilderment. You thought she would still be on you about your obvious lie yesterday, but to your great relief, she seems to be off the subject, so you chat about her favourite reality show.

“You know I don’t watch that crap,” you remind her, but she just grins wildly. “It was amazing. The dates were so sappy and romantic, but the one he gave the rose to is a total bitch, I think, I mean, if I were them, I’d…”

Her rambling fades out as you set eyes on a figure standing by the school, leaning against the brick wall with dark sunglasses on and a mop of curly blonde hair. He was wearing a black sweater, those same dark jeans, and a white T-shirt underneath.

You suck in a sharp breath, and watch him take one last drag on a cigarette before dropping it and stepping on it, removing his sunglasses, and looking up at you. You stumble a little as his eyes meet yours, surprised that he knew you were there. He flashes a smile, but says nothing else as you walk in past him, obviously saving his suave words for… *gulp* later.

“Are you even listening to my pointless rants that I know you don’t care about? Because you really should be,” Scarlet smirks. You turn to her like you had just been awakened from a century long slumber, and blink. “Sorry… kinda off the grid today.” She stares at you thoughtfully, but doesn’t push further.

“Heeello, gals!” a voice comes from behind you, and you both feel an arm swing around you from behind. “Ugh, too soon, Chris, we’re not ready to accept your presence yet,” Scarlet groans. You laugh. “Here to apologize, meatball?” He smiles, moving out in front of you two as he walks backward, “Nope. That’s not my style.” You huff. “How was it, then?” “What?” you ask worriedly, looking up at him with a sudden frantic feeling, wondering if Scarlet had spread something.

He looks at you funny. “Just wondering how you coped alone, in that small, dark room yesterday?” You breathe a sigh of relief, seeing as he didn’t know you had been accompanied. “Uh, it was hell, as to be expected.” He laughs. “Mr. Sulginski hates you now.” You snort. “Well, I hate economics, so it’s square!” Chris gives a wave as he ducks over to his locker, and Scarlet turns to you.

“Kay, well, I’ve got music, you’ve got science, then second and third period we’ve got together, so see ya later, Bill Nye!” You laugh at the stupid nickname that implies you love science way too much, and wave to her as you head up to the second floor.

You enter the classroom and sit down carefully, twirling a lock of your hair absentmindedly.

As you sit down, you remember with a groan that the science teacher was one of the ones that was photocopying in the office yesterday, and try to keep your head down.

As the class goes on, you finally put your head up to share one of your usually-correct answers. “Yes?” the teacher, Ms. Raymond, asks. “Is the answer the particle theory?” “No, I’m sorry, that’s incorrect.”

Your eyes blow wide as you stare down at your notes. You’re never wrong in this class! You shake your head as you seethe. Dammit, Tom.

When the class is over, you rush to get to the next one, your anxiety building as third period approaches.

You sit down with Scarlet, and she doodles on her page instead of getting out the previous night’s long, tedious assignment.

The teacher starts talking, and as much as your body wants to fall asleep, your mind keeps reminding you of the inevitable next class.

Maybe I should just forget it…. Pretend I forgot… yes… no…yes…

You wince as you try to decide what to do. Butterflies fill your stomach as you think back to the amazing sensations he gave you, how good he made you feel about everything… But if you go meet him today, that basically means you’re approving of any future interactions with him!

You rub your temples, and before you know it, the bell goes, sending waves of panic through you. How did the time go by so quickly?

You walk with Scarlet down the hall in a haze, and as you approach the door to math class, you stop, taking a deep breath. You can’t help what you feel for Tom, because there’s no denying that you do feel something for him. The way you got lost in his deep blue eyes, his smug, sexy little smirk. So what the hell?

You put a hand on Scarlet’s arm. “Hey, I’m… tell Mr. Johnson I’m sick, okay?” She grins psychotically, and squeals, “I knew it!!” You open your mouth to protest, but she shuts you up. “Oh my god!! Sorry, okay, okay, I’m… I’ll… yeah, just go. Yay!!” You roll your eyes, not confirming or denying her impression, and sneak off to the girl’s bathroom as the bell rings and the halls empty.

You take one last look around as you come to the bathroom door, which has a sign on it that said ‘Out of Order for Maintenance.’ You smirk as you imagine him sneaking in and stealing it from the janitor’s closet. You go in, and there he is, leaning up against the back wall with his hands in his pockets.

His eyebrows go up when he sees you, quirking his mouth a little. “You know, I sincerely didn’t think you would come!” You look down. “Then why’d you wait in here for me?” He smirks. “I didn’t want you to think I stood you up if you did.”

You scoff. “This isn’t a date, you know!” “Oh, I know. God, of course not. If I wanted to take you out on a date, I would take you for a motorcycle ride through the suburban hillside, late, late at night when nobody knows where we are. You would hold onto my waist as we fly at the wind’s mercy, feeling free as hell as we recklessly shred all the rules of the world.”

You smile sadly. “That’s a nice fantasy.” He takes a step closer to you, tucking his finger under your chin and lifting it up. “It doesn’t have to be a fantasy,” he mumbles.

You stare into his eyes, and he guides your face to his, locking your lips with a kiss that definitely lives up to the dizzying first one yesterday.

The need between you two increases with the sexual tension, and he lifts your leg up as he turns you around and pushes you back against the wall. Your kissing deepens, and his tongue further explores your mouth in places he didn’t reach the day before.

His left hand wanders from it’s placement in your hair down to your arm, down further yet to your hips, tugging on the hem of your white tank top.

Suddenly, you break away from his addictive lips, blinking and breathing heavily. “Wait,” you whisper, hooking your arm around his neck, “Before we do this, I need to know something.” He looks at you earnestly, and you continue. “Is this actually something? Or is this just some extended fling, that’ll end when the lunch bell goes?”

He drags his lower lip up the side of your neck, making you shiver. “Our feelings for each other are real, (y/n). Always be sure of that.” You sigh into his neck, happy at his answer, and with that, let him fully remove your top, you doing the same to him as your shorts are taken off as well. You promptly unbuckle him, and he squeezes your shoulders as his muscles flex under your touch.

You take him out of his boxers, running your hands up and down that impressive length, and he pulls your panties down as he struggles to restrain from thrusting into your hand.

“Why me?” you mumble as his eyes flutter shut. He opens them again, and looks at you, not answering.

He takes your arms, and pins them above your head against the wall as he positions himself in line with your opening.

You wiggle under his grasp in anticipation, and buck your hips against his groin, causing him to clench his jaw. He finally enters you, pushing in and pulling out before slamming back into you.

“Oh, that’s good…” you moan, the excitement of the situation taking you over as you dig your fingernails into his back.

“Oh yes….” he groans as you contract, “Just like that, darling, just like …. Oh, fuck, that’s brilliant.”

Encouraged, you move your hips to match his thrusts, and within minutes, you’re both on the edge. “I’m so close, Tom,” you whisper, and he pumps a little faster as his breath quickens.

He hits your g-spot head on, picking up on your body’s response to his movements, and repeatedly drives into you right where you like. You lean your head back, tugging on his hair and urging him on, wrapping your legs around his back, drawing him in deeper.

Soon, his body begins to quiver. “Oh god, I’m coming,” he pants, and you gasp as your orgasm approaches. He thrusts once more in a sporadic attempt, and your climax washes over you in wave after wave of pleasure, rocking through you as his thrusts send glorious sparks all over your body.

He spills soon after, and you ride him out with you as you breathe together, leaning into his chest. He lets out a long, drawn out groan as he heaves with his climax, and if you weren’t feeling so amazing, you would have worried stray students passing might hear you.

After you’re both finished, you let your lifted leg down, and exhale shakily as you try to stand properly. He chuckles as he catches you and steadies your stance, zipping himself back up. “As good as yesterday?” he checks. You grin. “Better.”

He laughs. “Probably because this time, you weren’t worried about the reciprocation of your feelings.” You glance down, suddenly bashful, and he kisses you on the forehead. “Keep your phone by you tonight. Where in town do you live?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Why?”

“Well, because it would be weird if I didn’t know where to reach you.” You purse your lips, and give him your address. He enters it into his phone, flashes you the smile, and leaves the bathroom, leaving you to your own dizzy posture and swirling thoughts.


At lunchtime, you rejoin Scarlet again. “So, how was it?” she asks.

“What?” “Oh, whatever! You know I know, I know you know what I know, so stop faking me out. I won’t tell anyone!” You think for a moment, and sigh finally. “You better not tell Chris-” “I won’t!” “Fine. It was… good,” you say, cracking a smile. “Only good?” “Okay… amazing,” you grin, and she laughs. “So does this mean you and Tom are together now?”

You frown and hush her, looking around for any eavesdroppers. “I don’t know… I think so… I mean, it seems that way.” She grins again. “You and Tom… god… you’re such a bad girl!” You take a bite of your salad as you consider the title. Did this really make you a bad girl? This is so unlike you! Dating the school bad boy, having secret, erotic meetings in the ladies’ room during class?

You’d never done anything like this before. And maybe that’s why it felt so good.


Your mom is sitting at the table as you get home, and you look at her. “Oh hey. Home early today?” She nods, looking up from her coffee. “Yeah, I worked overtime yesterday, so I got the evening off.” You smile. “Great!” She looks at you. “But your dad still has to work tonight, so you wanna catch tonight’s Bachelor with me?” You roll your eyes, running up the stairs. “You’re as bad as Scarlet!”

You shut the door quickly and lay out on your bed, checking your phone. Still no messages, except a snapchat from Chris this time, of him making a funny face.

How immature, you think with a smile, and then frown as you remember what Tom had said.

What did he mean about keeping my phone close then? You wonder, staring up at your ceiling.

You shrug it off, and at a considerably earlier time than yesterday, start on your homework.


A few boring hours later, you decide to flick on your TV to check the stations.

Supernatural, Doctor Who, Sherlock, Merlin…

You read, and even though they’re all good shows, you just aren’t in a settled enough mood to relax and watch something. Your thoughts keep going back to Tom, wondering if he was going to text you, call you, or what… You keep seeing his eyes looking back at you whenever you close yours, and you had to stop yourself from getting aroused again as you think of him, since you’re just too tired.

You silently drift off with the TV on in the background, and fall into a deep sleep.


Your phone goes off right beside your head as you jolt out of your nap, and you frown as you roll off of the binder you had been sleeping on. You groan as you sit up, rubbing your head and looking at the time. It’s 1:00 AM!

You pick up your phone to unlock it, and become wide awake once you read that it’s from Tom. You open it quickly.

“Hello, darling. Open your window.”

You cautiously get up, and go over to your window, bright moonlight shining down amongst the ever-present stars. Your mouth drops open as you see his tall frame standing down below, grinning up at you beside… his motorcycle. 


[Fanart: Li Shang, Phil Coulson, and Fa Mulan all wearing suits and standing side by side, as in a tv promo]

To be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., you must be:
1. Swift as a coursing river.
2. With all the force of a great typhoon.
3. With all the strength of a raging fire.
4. Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.
They cast Ming Na Wen in this show, this crossover had to happen. I’d love to see BD Wong in this show as well. You know, just sayin’ >.>

Like please? 


[Fanart: Li Shang, Phil Coulson, and Fa Mulan all wearing suits and standing side by side, as in a tv promo]


To be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., you must be:

1. Swift as a coursing river.

2. With all the force of a great typhoon.

3. With all the strength of a raging fire.

4. Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.

They cast Ming Na Wen in this show, this crossover had to happen. I’d love to see BD Wong in this show as well. You know, just sayin’ >.>


Like please? 


Description: You unjustly get sent to the office for something someone else did, and get put in the same waiting room with the school troublemaker- Tom Hiddleston. Obviously it’s going to be a long time in this small room - can you warm up to the most brash, most hot-headed, and most sexy guy in school?

Genre: Smut/ Erotica / Fluffish - Written from reader’s POV.

Character: AU!Tom/ High School!Tom/ Bad Boy!Tom

Rating: M

A/N: This was inspired by something that actually happened to me a few years ago. Except, there was no sexy bad boy hiddles. And no sex. And no kissing. Sigh. Contains smut, if you look really closely, then possibly some dub-con (not really but eh.) The two characters are both 18, and are considered legal adults now. 

Chapter Two



Trouble troublemaker, yeah

That’s your middle name, oh oh oh…

I know you’re no good but you’re stuck in my brain.


“Go to the office. Now.”

The sharp voice of your economics teacher smacks you right between the eyes as you’re shaken back into reality.

“What?” you ask dumbly, removing your chin from its rest on your fist. “Office!” he repeats, pointing to the door sternly. Suddenly, the meaning of his words come rushing back to you. “Come on, I wasn’t the one who drew it, I swear!” you insist, eyebrows going together in frustration.

“And is that why it says ‘By (y/n)?’” he deadpans, and you glare over at the guy who you knew actually drew the ‘Suck it, Mr. Sulginski’ note on the blackboard, Chris Evans. Chris was usually a nice guy, but he had an air for mischief, and loved pulling pranks on people. Unfortunately, today was your lucky day in that department. 

‘I’m gonna kill you,’ You mouth angrily over to the grinning blond, but Mr. Sulginski speaks again. “Do I have to tell you once more, Miss (y/l/n)?” he asks through gritted teeth. You frown and shake your head with a breathy sigh, getting out of your desk. Your best friend, Scarlet, sends you a good luck glance, and you push the door open into the empty hallway. 

You take your time walking down to the stuffy office, since you not only hated the disappointed tsk-tsks as you entered the room, but the ornery collection of staff in there, that always scrutinizes people for wearing too-short shorts or muscle shirts. 

You sigh again as you walk through the door, courageously braving the judgemental stares of a few photocopying teachers, and walk straight up to the desk. The lady sitting there holds one god awfully-red nail painted finger up to you on the phone.

“Yes, the sex smart presentation is still scheduled for tomorrow,” she says into the phone boredly, stifling a yawn as she stares blankly ahead. You raise your eyebrows. Is it not enough to have sex ed, to now bring in a presentation about it? At your senior grade level, you had far surpassed anyone being bashful or immature about the subject, but really, enough is enough. We know what a fricking condom is by now. It doesn’t matter though- you had chosen the pill instead of the laborious task of carrying condoms around all the time, ‘just in case.’

But there is one guy that keeps popping into your mind whenever you’re in the class and talking about it. 

Thomas Hiddleston, the school bad boy.

He had been taken in countless times for cheating, classroom disturbance, smoking on school property, and any other crazy thing you could think of. He might have even been suspended once, you can’t remember. 

But god, was he hot

It wasn’t even the dangerous personality that attracted you to him. He could be an Abercrombie model, you’re sure of it, and though you’ve never seen him without a shirt, you’re sure you’ve noticed a few rippling abs with a particularly tight piece. 

His hair was a messy mop of blonde curls, that always found their way up in the breeze. His eyes were an electrifying blue, and the definition of this guy’s face was unimaginable, with perfect cheekbones, a stone jaw line, and a gorgeously strong nose. His lips, that he always licked as he sent smirks and winks to girls, were pink and thin, making you imagine all the incredible things they could do…


The office secretary shot you an unimpressed stare as she tapped the end of her pencil against the desk, her cheeks drooping under the layers of makeup she has caked on. “What do you need?” she obviously repeats, and your daydream dissipates. 

“Umm… sorry, uh, I was,” you take a deep breath, “Wrongfully, sent here by my economics teacher.” A mistakenly conspicuous tsk-tsk escapes her lips, and you roll your eyes as she gets out of the chair.

“Follow me,” she says gruffly, and you follow her down a narrow hallway full of doors.

“Here,” she grunts, gesturing to a door marked, ‘Student Files- A-Z.’ You look around the little room, which has a little bathroom by the side and one tiny window, high up. It’s kind of like a jail cell, you think dryly.

“The principal will be with you in a bit, he’s in a very important meeting right now with the district board,” she states, before closing the door after you.

You set your hands on your hips as you exhale, glancing between the small cabinets, the dim almost non-existent lighting, and the dirty white telephone sitting on the desk.

At least there’s this bed-type thing, you think as you sit down on what could only be called a cot with a blanket.

You absentmindedly wonder how many times Tom had been in here.

You frown at yourself for thinking about him. He was a terrible influence, and not someone who you should be liking, especially not with serious relationships in mind now that grad was closing in.

You pull out your phone, and groan as you realize it’s only at 3% battery life. Well, might as well make use of what’s left, you think, and tap the messaging icon. You go into the conversation you had been having with Scarlet about the new Starbucks down the street and her string of curses regarding the treacherous upcoming Biology test.

“Ugh, it’s so weird in here,” you type, and send it. Within minutes, your friend, who isn’t quite as studious as you, fires a text back.

“Fucking Evans. I’ll deck him for you if you want!”

You laugh at her response, and write back. “That’s fine, I’ll do it myself tomorrow.”

Just after hitting send, it dies, and you huff before shoving back into your pocket.

You suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to check the files for Tom’s name. You feel guilty and paranoid, but you give in and open the A-K drawer. 

“Hiddleston…Hiddleston…” you mumble, flicking through the multicoloured tabs for each file. “Hiddleston!” you mutter triumphantly as you find his blue name on one. You quickly pull it out, closing the drawer and sitting back on the cot.

“Cheating on Math Test… Seen coming out of girl’s bathroom… smoking in Science lab…” Your eyes widen as you read some of his juvenile-delinquent-offenses, scanning over a page full of them. Your mouth twists in disgust at his reckless attitude, seeing as after reading his report for first term, he had a lot of potential in early literary studies and dramatic technique. The only thing you have in common with him is a February birthday, making you the same age as him of 18.

Suddenly, you hear the door start to open, and you stuff the folder underneath your butt, leaning back casually against the wall.

“Look, I don’t care if it’s on my record! Aw, whatever, fuck you!” a voice that was angry but in contrast to his choice of language, quite eloquent, sounded from the doorway. The office lady opened the door all the way, and in stumbled…

Tom Hiddleston.

“You’ll have to share the room until the principal is done,” the secretary says to the both of you, and closes the door again. 

He swears again, running a hand through his *gulp, perfect* hair, proceeding to turn around and face you. 

He narrows his eyes at you, this being the first time ever talking with you. His mouth twitches up as his eyes run over your body, making you silently wish you hadn’t worn your black miniskirt and low cut purple button-up today. “Good morning,” he smirks, and you cross your arms over your not-covered-enough-for-you chest.

“Maybe for you,” you grumble, looking away. Even though you admit to his being hot, you certainly didn’t want to know him, or moreover sit in a cramped room with him for god knows how long.

“What’s got your panties in a knot?” he asks, hoisting himself up on the desk as he flashes you a devilish smile. 

You whip your head up to face him, and scowl. “My panties are none of your business,” you remark, crossing your legs. He shrugs. “Only an expression, darling.” You glare at him. 

“Don’t call me darling!” He raises his eyebrows at you, before frowning. “You are the only girl who has ever responded to me this way, you know that?” You scoff. “Oh, I’m sure. Well, ego trip’s over, Hiddleston, I’m not another one of your easy sluts that you fuck in the bathroom during third period.” 

His eyebrows go up even higher, and he laughs a little. “Jesus, you’re ruthless. What the hell did you even do to get in here? I thought you were one of those studious girls that never gets in trouble.” You feel a flash of something go off inside of you. So he does sort of know who you are.

You take a deep breath, refusing to make eye contact. “I… I’m not even supposed to be here.” He throws his head back and laughs. “Really! Why’s that, exactly?” You clench your jaw. “Because, my…friend… wrote something obscene on the board, that the teacher thought was me.” “Why would he think it was you?” “My friend wrote my name beside it.”

Tom crosses his arms. “Doesn’t sound like much of a friend to me.” “Oh, and you would know?” “Yes, I’ve got lots of friends.” “No, you’ve got guys who hang out with you because they think you’re cool and because you attract women, there’s a fat difference.”

He looks kind of hurt for a second, but the devilish smirk returns to his face in no time. “Sweetling, I’m a lone wolf. I do what I want, I don’t take orders from anybody, and I’m held in high respect due to that.” 

He looks down, seeing the corner of the folder poking out from beneath your butt. 

“What’s that?” he asks, and you flush red. “Nothing. Stop staring at my ass.” “I’m not staring at your ass, I’m staring at what’s underneath your ass. Although, you do have a splendid ass, I must say.”

You shoot him a dirty look, only to be met with another of his dashing beams. It hits you right in the lower stomach. 

“So? What have you got?” “What? Where?” “That folder, what is it?” “I told you, it’s nothing!!” “It looks like something, darling, let me see.” 

He reaches, and before you can grab it away, he pulls the file from underneath you, reading his name on the tab. 

“Well, well, doing a little reading, I see?” he smirks, and you huff, looking away. 

He puts the file down, inspecting you with curious eyes. “You don’t seem to like me very much, yet you were reading my file. What am I missing here?” “You’re missing your queue to shut up!” you say, a little louder than intended. He just shrugs, and leans back against the wall from his tabletop seat. 

About twenty minutes later of uncomfortable silence and irritating humming of obscure R&B music from your temporary companion, he finally sighs. 

“Look, we’re in a small room together, it looks implicitly likely that we will remain in these same confines until our tit for a principal wraps up his snore-fest out there, so we might as well get to know each other better.” 

You look at him. “You go first.” He nods. “Okay… I like to read Shakespeare, or more so, perform it. I suppose it’s a dream of mine to become an actor, I don’t know…” For some reason, you get the feeling what he just told you was a vulnerable moment for him, something he hadn’t told many other people. Strange, for a guy like him, to be anything other than haughty and smug. 

He looks up. “What about you?” “Why do you want to get to know me?” “Because you’re a dazzling girl sitting within a meter of my body.” “Oh, you’re bold.” “Oh, you haven’t even gotten the jist of it yet, darling.” “Is that right?” “It is. Let me show you just how bold I can be.”  

He suddenly takes your wrist, pulling you up to his height on the desk, and smashes his lips into yours. It’s a little overwhelming at first, but in a second, he has you moaning into his mouth with delicious ministrations of his tongue.

“Mmm,” he mumbles, continuing to make out with you as his hands grip your shoulders. He tastes like menthol and a hint of something spicy, like cinnamon.

You finally break away, one hand on his chest as you two heave for air.

“Wha-” you try to say, but he kisses you again, stealing your words away in a heartbeat. You feel yourself begin to melt into his arms, to reciprocate, and it worries you.

“No,” you mutter, pulling away and wiping your mouth of the yummy taste of him.

“What?” he asks playfully, and you throw your arms up. “Look at you, all triumphant because you got me to kiss you! Dammit, I won’t become another one of your forgettable experiences!” He sighs in frustration, pulling you closer. “I wish you would stop saying that…. Do you know how many sexual partners I’ve actually had?” he drawls in your ear. You bite your lip. “How many?”

He leans in closer. “Second to none, darling,” he whispers. You assume this means around a couple. While that’s still a lot by your standards, it’s far less than expected by, anybody, really. “Surprise you?” he chuckles, and nips at your earlobe. You shudder against the sensation, looking at him cautiously.

“Hiddleston…” you start, but he bites down on the top of your ear. “Call me by my first name.” Your breath hitches as you hesitate, then cave. “Tom,” you moan as he begins to work his fingers into your back, giving you a divine massage.

God, he sure is irresistible.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whisper, “This is terribly risky. What if she finds us?” He laughs. “Then she’ll get an eyeful. Maybe the sight of two deathly attractive people having it out will lighten her mood a little, hm?” You can’t help but laugh at that as a naughty glint appears in his eye. 

He moves his lips down lower to your collarbone, sucking gently. He can sense your unease, and hums. “I won’t leave a mark, I promise.” You nod, and let him feel your body. 

He slowly slips his hands under your shirt, feeling your breasts and kneading them together. It’s his turn to moan as he squeezes the soft flesh and moves his hands down lower. He hooks his thumbs onto your crisp white lace panties from underneath your skirt, feeling your upper thigh and working his fingers into your ass, clutching you tightly on his lap.

You finally decide there’s no turning back now, so you bounce up and down slightly, straddling him. He closes his eyes, and you can feel the beginnings of his arousal forming through his dark jeans.

“Shirt… off…” he pants, peeling your blouse over your head and tossing it down. You smile as you finally feel him fully hard beneath you, knowing that you, regular, straight A you, is responsible for the school’s notorious sex symbol’s pleasure.

With your shirt off, he feels your breasts more underneath your matching white lace bra. The push-up padding of the bra sets them in a nice position, and he groans as he stares at you in awe.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he groans, and you roll your eyes. “That’s an old line. I was thinking something more along the lines of: ‘Take my pants off and I’ll make you see stars.” He laughs, and pulls his pants down. You strip his boxers off as well, and his cock springs out in full form, ready and erect.

“Oh…” you whisper, eyeing his enormous girth. He lifts you up a little, and with a quick confirmation, lowers you down onto his length. You gasp as you take him all in, stopping only when he’s deep enough to hit your g-spot. He accidentally leans over too far onto a button on the telephone, and you laugh as his rhythm is thrown off for a second. 

“Tom,” you mumble into his hair, moving up and down along his shaft. He helps you along by guiding your hips vertically each straddle, and he grips you tightly.

“You’re…amazing,” he grunts, and you smile, taking him in deeper each time as he stretches your walls. After a moment, he suddenly stops you, lifting you off of him and laying you down on the cot. “Oh god,” you moan, and feel his weight compress you as he thrusts back in from his position on top of you, a faster pace now.

“Ah! Just like that… right there…” you gasp, and encouraged by your little noises, Tom continues with renewed vigour, going so deep his hips touch yours.

“Oh!” you say, and he clamps a hand over your mouth. “Shhh…” he warns, and you nod frantically, lowering your voice. “Oh, oh, Tom, Tom, I need… Ah, I need to… I need you to…ohhh….” He pumps into you, and licks his lips before bringing a cautious thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles.

At that perfect motion, your climax breaks over you in waves of much-anticipated pleasure, and at your contractions and inner heat, he comes as well, growling and clenching his jaw as he rolls his hips into you. 

“Oh my god,” you breath as he rolls off of you. “Yeah,” he chuckles, breath heavy and panting. “I mean, wow,” you say incredulously. “I know,” he says, smiling. “We just…” You whisper. “Yes, we did,” he chuckles.

There’s silence for a second as you try and catch up with what you just did, and Tom draws lazy patterns along your arm. 

You turn to him finally. “So is this gonna be the newest addition to your four page record? Hot sex in the school office?” He gives a hearty laugh, and runs a hand through his hair. “Only if they find us.” 

“Hm, speaking of which, here,” you say, picking up his shirt and handing it to him. You hook your bra back up, and slip on your panties again. After you two are fully clothed, you then accept the reality of what you just did. 

Suddenly, there’s a clicking noise, and the door opens. 

“The principal will see you now,” the secretary says, gesturing for you to follow. You take a deep breath, and get up carefully, a little sore from the intensity and little wait time between now and what took place. She turns to you two. “And we do not find it amusing, using the P.A. system for crude pranks such as that! No wonder you two are in the office!” You look at Tom in confusion at what she could possibly be talking about, who just shrugs, and you both follow her. 

Later, after a long chat with the principal, you make it back in time for last period, art history. Scarlett looks at you, an amused smirk on her face as you sit down next to her. “What?” you ask, crossing your legs under the desk.

“What, you didn’t hear it?” “Hear what?” “Somebody commandeered the P.A. system and started moaning like they were in the middle of steamy sex!” Your eyes widen, and all the colour drains from your face as you feel lightheaded and very prepared to faint as you realize- that white telephone must have been a P.A. microphone!

Scarlett looks at you. “You okay? It sounded like a pretty hot session, I mean, I wish I could have something like that,” she snorts, cracking herself up laughing. You still stare ahead as your heart beats fast, wondering if anyone recognized you. “By the way, what did you do trapped in hell for four hours in there?” she asks, but you barely hear her.

You rack your brain… did he say your name? No… Did you say his? You wince. Yes… But nobody would suspect anything, since the office staff just thought it was a prank. 

As you’re about to swallow your nerves and sit down, the door opens, and in pops… 


“I’m afraid I forgot my books,” he says innocently to the teacher, who grumbles at him to retrieve them. 

He comes over, grabs a binder from a table beside you, and sends you a wink and a kiss. 

“See you in the bathroom third period tomorrow, darling,” he whispers, and saunters out the door. 

Scarlett’s mouth drops, and you feel a little smile twitch over your lips as a song comes into your head.


Trouble troublemaker, yeah

That’s your middle name, oh oh oh…

I know you’re no good but you’re stuck in my brain.