#Hiddles Cheekbones | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smolvenger · 7 months

Note

Greetings bestie 💖🫡

Requesting a Professor Hiddles story (you can choose what subject he's teaching) where he already has this friendly type of dynamic w/ Reader and she's nervous about finals week and he goes "Tell you what, if you ace all your exams I'll take you out to dinner. Anything you want."

…And then (surprise surprise) she wants to skip all that because she just wants him 🫠🫠

I shall leave spice level entirely up to you 😏

And for some ✨inspiration✨…

Hi bestie! Thank you for requesting a Prof! Tom fic! I loved writing it!

Exam Aid (Prof! Tom Hiddleston x Student! Reader)

Summary: When finals have gotten you down, your Shakespeare professor offers some help...and motivation...

Word Count: 5939 (woof)

Warnings: Eventual Smut at the end! NSFW! (Reader is a college student ((if undergrad or graduate that's up to you)) so she's over 18. Dom! Prof Hiddles and Sub! Reader, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, doggy style, doing it in an office. It's super filthy when it gets there, so be warned), mentions of anxiety and insomnia and mental health. My Shakespeare tastes and my IRL English Major college experiences are used and referenced bc it's my indulgent fic too and I do what I want. Some hurt/comfort. Prof Hiddles being both a dom and silly goofy in one fic bc get you a man who can do both.

Taglist: @huntress-artemiss@ijuststareatstuffhereok89@evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract (smut starts at "I'm good at more than just kissing" and ends at "He looked at you with a sweet smile", for your comfort, bestie) @eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@muddyorbsblr

It wasn’t the actual week of finals. Oh no, you knew how the drill would go. It was the month or week before. It would be assigned. Every last essay thrown on top of you. And with professors without a touch of reality for students.

“Who the hell has time to read and finish A Tale of Two Cities in two days?!” you thought as you shoved your unabridged copy of Dickens in your bag. Promising yourself to get through as much as you can and then read the Sparknotes summary in the morning. You weren’t immune to it.

Throughout your time in college, you had many a professor. Professors came in varieties. There were creative writing professors who ranged from tiny women who would assign short stories that made no sense to blonde men with glasses and toothy grins who loved it when their male classmates wrote exploitative abuse. Mythology professors with Greek accents and tans. Then there were the mixed bag of literature professors.

The previous professor of the literature survey for Shakespeare also taught the American Literature Survey course. He was Dr. Rutledge. He wasn’t from this year, or even this reality. Either a wise old sage or a kooky scientist from the movie. He had long, thin grey hair, and wore bow ties with black glasses and thick tweed jackets. He smiled and would speak for hours in a tone half sarcastic, half serious. You knew he would go back home and cozy up with a whole copy of Moby Dick next to a fireplace as he sipped on tea or even scotch if he was feeling adventurous. When he brought up sex and seduction with the Scarlet Letter it was the equivalent of hearing a nun confess her last orgy.

So when you registered this year for the Shakespeare course, that was the sight you were expecting.

Since the first day in walked someone different. He may have been wearing a suit, but he definitely was not Dr. Rutledge.

Everyone was gossiping and chattering and sipping on their iced coffees when they fell silent. Every single back stood up straighter at the sight of him. Young, tall, virile. Long, curly reddish blonde hair. A goatee and glasses to show his maturity. Sharp suits that framed every inch of his lean but fit body. Eyes and cheekbones to die for. A jaw so straight it made the men taking the class question if they were.

No introduction of “hi, I’m-” No icebreaker games. He only stepped forward, to his podium. Held onto it, everyone leaned forward. He had all of you in the palm of his hand. Then, with his clear, bright baritone voice, he spoke-

“Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York…”

His voice…something about it. So…rich…Goddammit, he picked that one, the opening speech of Richard the Third. If he picked Romeo’s balcony declaration or something like that, you would be in even more danger of falling onto the floor in a horny heap of suppressed yearning. But no…it was Richard the Third’s monolgoue. Of all the characters he was playing, of all the characters in the Shakespeare canon you could thirst after, it was fucking Richard the Third. Definitely not known as a hunk or even a likable person according to canon.

But the way he said it- threatening, villainous even. He leaned in and confessed his true feelings about the royal family and his plot to destroy them and rule over them. You could already feel something stirring inside you. And it was eight am in the morning.

As he finished the monologue, speaking it so naturally it was as if it were his own words, the class burst into applause.

With a casual bow, brushing his curly blonde-red hair out of his face, he introduced himself.

“Hello class- good morning. I’m your professor- Professor Hiddleston, and I will make this as fun and engaging as a morning class on Shakespeare can be.”

From then on, you enjoyed the class. You tackled it on- after all, you wanted to have some fun. You loved Shakespeare. But Professor Thomas Hiddleston…was a bonus. Thank the lord he wore suits. And if not suits, white shirts with the sleeves rolled up. He might as well as taken it off for you.

You went through various sonnets. Then explored the poetry- Aphrodite and Lucretia. Then the plays. Even plays that the undergrads thought the most dull he made intriguing. He made everything clear with Shakespeare’s life too himself- how the Bard lost a son named Hamlet. How Shakespeare was accustomed to the great courts and low brothels Prince Hal tasted both of.

When theatres did productions or there was the odd movie adaptation in theatres, everyone went to go see it. Then he had a showing of lesser-known film adaptations. Showing how Orson Welles framed the shot of Falstaff to make the large knight seem even larger. The Bollywood Othello where at long, long last Emilia survived and she was the one to kill Iago, much to the class’s cheering.

“Are there any other movies we should watch?” he asked.

One kid shot up and suggested Shakespeare in Love. He raised an eyebrow.

“ It was not Shakespeare’s invention to have the lovers die. Romeo and Juliet was a a known story in Elizabethan era England and everyone knew back then that the lovers died. It’s like someone just suggesting that Superman comes from another planet- we all know he does. Not because of him having an illicit affair as his poor wife was left to raise their surviving children far off and alone!”

“What about Anonymous!?” cried one kid, trying to be cool.

He let out a deep, ragged sigh.

“There is more than enough evidence to suggest Shakespeare wrote the plays. Every criticism says he can’t write it because he was uneducated. However, if you look, there are hysterical inaccuracies in his geography And no one questions the authorship of Maya Angelou because of her lack of formal education! Just because he was not a nobleman, does not mean he was not aware of things as you are! Every Anti-Stratfordian argument boils down to classicism.”

It was the best class you took. Having him teach definitely helped. And he would invite people for coffee talks and of course, you would bolt to join. Yet you enjoyed it- seeing him so relaxed. Warm in his coat as everyone circled around to talk about plays they knew of but hadn’t read in this class.

“Well- all of us went through our high schools. We all read Romeo and Juliet- what do you think?” he questioned them one autumnal day.

“They’re just brats! Ugh!” one guy snarled out.

That you couldn’t take. You set down your drink, glaring at him.

“They’re not!” you cried out passionately.

Eyes turned forward to you. You wished youcould have slapped him, but you stopped.

“Well, Y/N…why do you think that? Why are they not brats?” the professor asked.

“I think…the plays aren’t meant to be realistic. Of course, they fall in love immediately- so do Rosamund and Orlando but no one calls them brats! It’s not Romeo and Juliet who get everyone killed! It’s not their love that hurts anyone- it’s just the feud and Paris l thinking he is entitled to Juliet’s body after her supposed death! No one knows about them- only they, the nurse, and the priest know about it! They’re innocent! Juliet calls Romeo her ‘friend!” Her one and only friend! That’s how alone she is without him! They are just innocent victims of a greater scheme. Hamlet and Othello fall prey to their own flaws- but Romeo and Juliet are just two young kids caught in the crossfire!”

You didn’t realize how passionate you were. You felt your face get hot with embarrassment as the class gaped at you. But the Professor was nodding his head. He gave you a small smile as you sat down.

“That was…very good. Next time, use the text and a few sources, and you have yourself a good essay, Y/N,” Professor Hiddleston said.

You liked how he challenged you. He would only want you to do better. He wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass, but he would support you. You would ask after each other. He told you a bit about his life- about how much there was to grade. How he got the job. Little things- but little things only added up to how much you liked him. Even…even…no, you couldn’t you would never say it aloud. But your bedtime fantasies…you were more than mere friends…but that was only for fantasies.

You tried to let those regular Shakespeare classes comfort you. But finals were taking a toll on your sleep, and your health. You were so wound up and stressed, trying to read and perfect essays that you had trouble going to bed. Your brain kept churning- unable to think of anything else but your work. You couldn’t realx- you worked so hard to get into this school, this degree. If you didn’t pass then…you would be a failure and all that work to go to this school would be for nothing.

At least after a sleepless night, you had something to look forward to- to distract yourself. But even lately in those classes, you curled into yourself. The heaviness of your exhaustion and the jolt of your anxiety over finals in an unending cycle of misery. You were so…tired…and done…and drained…you knew it would pass with time…

After class, as everyone filed out, Professor Hiddleston walked over to where you slowly gathered your things. He held out a hand to you.

“What is it, Y/N? You’re usually smiling and happy here. But you seem very grave lately…has something happened?”

You shook your head.

“Not really just…finals…I want to do well. I can’t get C’s- I want to do them perfectly! I want to! I want this degree! Now I…I’m so scared of failing…I wanted this school so much, now I…I…” you began to mutter.

You felt tears wriggling out of your eyes, and your breath shook as you uselessly tried to hold them back. He handed you tissues from his coat pocket. You felt like a trashbag- crying in front of this fucking Greek God. But he looked at you kindly. You wiped your eyes. Snot threatened to release from crying and you blew your nose. Ugh, he would think you were especially gross after that. But his gentle smile did not change. You wrapped up the tissues and tossed them aside- then he handed you the little plastic package.

“Is it mansplaining if I give you some advice?” he asked.

“Oh, no…it’s not…” you said.

“Break your studies apart, Y/N. Ten little minutes at a time. A break. Then ten more. If you take time to focus, it will help you. Or if you make it fun and play music or make little drawings, then you have a picture as well…I know it means a lot…but if you rest, you will recover…and you must think smart, not hard,” he advised.

“Okay…” you nodded.

“Y/N, there are counselors here…they will help you and you don’t have to pay anything. They; 've helped me, and so many others, they should help you…” he suggested. He got out pamphlets from a corner of his desk to give to you.

“I’ll see one…Why are you so kind to me?” you asked impulsively, looking up.

He put his hands in his pockets, glancing down, and then back up.

“If I may be frank, you remind me so much of myself when I was a student. I had a thesis I had to write on Shakespeare’s problem plays…and it consumed me. I wish someone had given me that advice at that time-I only want you to suffer a little less. Don’t be so hard on yourself- like I was on me…”

You nodded up at him, adjusting the straps of your bag and gathering your things in your arms.

“And I’ll..I’ll make it fun- I’ll think of a reward for after…” you said.

He placed his hands in front of him, his lips tightening, and then in a rushed exhale, he spoke.

“Y/N…how would you…you…you like dinner? After finals?”

You perked your head up. Was this real? You blinked at him, saying nothing.

“Y/N…make me a bet…Go to counseling, break apart your studying, get through your finals, and do as well as you can…and I will take you out to dinner, how does that sound?” he asked.

You smiled at him, your heart beating fast. But yet…you were touched. You put a hand over your chest and released an exhale.

“Professor that…that sounds wonderful…” you answered.

“Ah, excellent. Now- is that a deal?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

You gave him a smile and a small laugh.

“It’s a deal,” you replied.

You managed to get a counseling session scheduled for tomorrow. You went inside, sat, met the kind therapist, and smiled as you vented and cried out your feelings. When you went back to where you lived and spent your emotions, you crashed onto the bed. It was the best nap you had ever taken.

You followed his advice. You broke down studying or writing essays and researching. You took more breaks. You had made flashcards with doodles for the tests and were catching on quickly. Your research was more fruitful and your essays were getting better in your eyes. You found you slept a bit better at night.

Each day as you sat in at 8 am, the Professor would smile at you and nod. You felt more like yourself again despite the looming deadlines. And they didn’t seem like a matter of life or death anymore.

Everyone knows the week before finals are hell. To study and work so much with no time off from usual classes. But… you would still miss that 8 a.m. Shakespeare survey- and the handsome professor in his suits.

“Y/N, don’t be scared- you will be phenomenal,” He gave you a wink that turned you into jelly.

Damn him. To think you would have dinner with him. You turned around to peek at him erasing the markerboard and glimpsing his curved bum, how his hair curled at the back, and his broad back.

Yeah, now that was motivation to do well.

You studied and wrote with enthusiasm. You completed it all in due time. The essays were to your satisfaction. When you settled at night, you cuddled his pillow. Remembering his smell- be it his shampoo or cologne, the mild, citrus scent. Fantasizing about him. Of dancing slowly at a formal event with you in an evening gown. Feeling his hand on your back and his head lowering down to touch your forehead. Of sharing ice cream. Being a damsel in distress for him to rescue. Then you thought of his body…. And the images changed to something naughtier. Wearing short skirts and showing up to his class. And him noticing. And lifting it up…

You conked right to sleep.

Finals week began. The entire campus knew it was stressful and went ridiculously out of their way to cheer up the students. But it was a lot of fun, you had to admit. Having dogs on campus to pet. Discounts on coffee. That Monday morning the cafeteria was packed with the free breakfast they offered. Once you brave the long lines for free food, you headed out to your first final.

Professors, to your amusement, dotted around the campus. If they didn’t have a class to be in, they were handing little care packages while dressed in silly costumes. The sight amused you and made you smile.

Then walking up, you turned to the right and jumped at the sight with a happy, surprised gasp that became laughter. Professor Hiddleston himself wore a light, frilly tutu made for girls a quarter of his age over his pants, little costume fairy wings over his shirt, and had a headband with little stars on top like ears.

He turned towards you and his face turned bright pink.

“Professor Hiddleston! What is this?!” you asked.

He opened up his arms to present his silly costume.

“We’re doing our anti-stress events! I am here to provide you with help with your stress!” he announced theatrically.

You put your hands akimbo and surveyed his costume up and down. If the class knew, they would lose it.

“And you’re doing it?!” you asked.

“Why not! I’m not a stick in the mud all the time! I can have fun!”

You laughed again.

“I should take a picture and send you to the group chat of our class!”

“I don’t see why not!”

He posed as you took a picture.

“And how are you feeling?”

“I feel better! Much better now- I feel like I’m ready…”

“Good! It will be done soon! A bit at a time!”

He handed over a stress-free care package. Exchanging smiles, you continued by with a lighter step in your shoes.

You went to every test outside of the pre-written essay. You knew what to do as you wrote short essays for the tests. You didn’t completely panic and wrote them as well as you could. When it came to every exam, you felt you knew and understood the material. The week flew by.

Sure enough, on that Friday, with shaking hands and a turning stomach, you looked up your grades. Taking in a breath right when the clock hit noon, you tapped a shaking finger on the mouse. The link buffered on your computer to view them. Then it lit up with revelation.

You passed them. You passed them all. In fact, you did very well.

Your heart was racing but—you realized…you didn’t have his number. Only his email address. With the still nervous feeling…you emailed him, your professor.

“Hello Professor,

My grades were announced- and they’re all spectacular. I passed all of them. So…you made that promise…are you available for dinner?”

You sent it off. You could only ruminate for five minutes- his response was quick.

“Of course, dear Y/N…

Here’s my number below… Meet me in my office. The parking lot isn’t far from it.”

You managed to text him immediately. You were giggling and pacing your room like a high schooler as your phone buzzed with his responses. You re-read them as you paced about with your phone in your face. The high of your crush floating you into the clouds. You were going to go to a nice restaurant- one wasn’t finalized yet, but something nice. And that meant you had to look the part!

You were so excited. You made sure your makeup was how you liked and that your hair looked clean. You put on a part dress-one with a shorter skirt. It was too perfect not to. It was cut only a little low to show some mild cleavage. The collar was wide enough so that it showed your collarbones. It was nice, but flirtatious and romantic. It hugged you in a perfect fit while making you feel amazing and sexy.

Sure enough, you went over to his office. The place was abandoned. All offices and buildings on the Friday of the Finals are in the early evening. You walked over and knocked on the door.

He opened the door and your heart almost stopped.

He was lovely. In his suit. His curls and that slutty goatee combed. Smelling fresh and clean. He still was in his blue suit- bringing out the blue in his eyes. Loving, beautiful.

“Ah, Y/N- please, come in,” he welcomed.

You followed suit. He closed the door. There was a second where you just looked at each other. Despite his goatee, you saw him biting his lip.

“Now, how about that dinner, Y/N…” he offered. “There’s La Gardeniera-suitable. A nice place for a special occasion as this…”

You gave him a shrug.

“I don’t care…anywhere…” you replied.

“Anywhere? ” he asked.

He put his hands in his pocket and looked at you. It was a simple office- white and brown as many are. There was a bright window, the blinds turned over, as the setting sun’s rays fell over it. There was a small bust of Shakespeare and a pitcher with cups of water. His desk had a neat stack of papers, and annotated books all over it. Cozy and comfortable- like how he made you.

“I just…I want to be with you…I don’t mind. Take me to a McDonalds and I won’t care…” you went on.

“Y/N…I…me?” he asked.

“Yes, you! We don’t even have to eat or…to, uh…I just…” the words were failing you and you felt your heart pick up. You looked down at the floors and then back up at him.

“You want to…to be with me…” he walked forward curiously. But you did not retreat. Did not back away. You only met him in his blue eyes, welcoming him.

“Y/N…are you sure?” he asked.

He took a step closer. He was right before you. And you did not retreat. You met his gaze. So close. The tension between you.

“Professor Hiddleston, I am sure…I just want to be with you…anywhere…you just…make me happy…” you finally confessed.

“You make me happy too…” he murmured

He leaned forward, seeking permission. You gave a shaky nod.

Then he kissed you.

Something in you released. So long it was boxed up- now wild and free. He immediately took his hands and ran them up and down you and you held onto him in the kiss. Feeling him as he deepened it with the wet sound of lips. Grabbing onto each other, releasing what had been held for so long. He released and then kissed you-again, then again. Like he was drowning and you were air.

“Mphm- what-what were the grades?” he asked before kissing again.

You caught your breath and took a break still close to his lips.

“Passed them. Flying colors,” you reported.

He kissed you again, moaning into it. Then he broke it again.

“Well now…my little student…doing so well…” he rasped.

You grabbed him and heart racing you felt him kiss you. His facial hair scratched against you. He kissed you back. He backed you up.

“You’ve been…good…” he breathed, pressing you there into it. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Mphm- this feels…feels so nice…you’re a good kisser,” you whispered.

“I’m good at more than just kissing, my dear-”

He held you, pulling you close. He backed you to the door-holding you against him. He then reached a hand and turned over the lock. It was sealed with a click. His hands then returned to you. He cupped your cheeks, then it slid down your neck, and your chest, and then settled on your wasit.

“I’ve…I’ve…God, I’ve wanted you so much…I…I don’t know if I…think I can…hold back…my dear, I-I-if you’re not…not ready, I’ll-”

“I don’t want to leave yet- let’s wait for dinner-take me. Fuck me here, now,” you begged.

You didn’t need to say any more than that. ou shuddered. He found your skirt and touched your leg, lifting it up. Feeling your skin, cold from exposure.

“All this…is all for me now…”

His hand reached over your leg. His long fingers possessively gripped each bit of flesh. Enjoying it- feeling you for the first time. Treasuring you and making his mark- you were his and his alone. He wrapped an arm around you and lifted you up onto that door. You let out a sound He then took your leg and guided it to wrap around his waist, holding onto him. You were so dripping wet you could feel his pants brushing your soaked panties. He held you easily-so, so easily. Just muscle and wall holding you and keeping you in place. He managed to lift you up- keeping you up with how pressed he was to you. How warm. Keeping him on you.

Your lips crashed again. You kept touching him. One hand finally touching his hair- his beautiful, long curls. The other kissing into him. In his suit, he began to ground against you now that you had nowhere to go away- not that you would leave. He kissed you with tongue and fire. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back, wet noises and messy, desperate need.

“Tom…Tom, I-” you murmured.

He touched your chin, shushing you.

“We’re still in my office, my dear. And you will call me Professor,” he said.

He reached a hand down- feeling hte seat of your soaked panties. Smiling from teh effect already.

“Yes…yes, I will…” you breathed out.

“Now- my little angel. She did so well…and she comes to me, so needy…so desperate-first for her finals and now for my cock-”

You held onto him, touching his tie. Pulling him up. You felt his erection stretching through his pants. The hooded eyes and soft voice, his hot breath. You gave him a smile- eager to have him.

“I’m going to rip your clothes off and fuck you senselessly- and I want you- I never heard a thank you- I want to hear your gratitude for how I take care of you in every way…how does that sound? Too much for you?”

“It sounds wonderful for me-Professor,” you purred in response.

He wrapped an arm to help you up and carried you- legs around his waist.

. He then backed you over to his desk. He kept one by you- so close, so close. He took a hand and shoved aside the books and papers. It didn’t matter- now there was you.

He pulled up your skirt. Desperately trying to find the zipper. Almost shaking in his long fingers. His erection seeping through his pants- he was so pent up.

“All that time. Wanting you. Feeling you near. Do you know how many nights I had to jerk off to imagine this- you! Seeing you- feeling you right there- my little beauty, angel, and siren at once.”

He shoved your dress off and down. Now in your bra and underwear. His hands went to under your straps- feeling them already- his bare flesh on your bare flesh. You were backed there.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you what?” he asked darkly.

“Th-thank you, Professor.”

He kissed you again. You were his little pet, his toy, his plaything. And you would please him- You held onto his shoulders. Grinding more into his body, He was still. Yet you heard his breaths, catching in his chest. He still remained clothed.

Then in a rush, he gripped your bra.

“You won't need these- not with me.”

With a strength that made you gasp, He ripped your bra in half. He breasted so fast, panting like a beast. Looking down at your breasts. Both large hands fondled them, moving them around.

“Th-Thank you, Professor,” you whispered.

“But there’s one thing- one thing keeping me- from what I need” he growled.

He reached down, and in a second, he ripped your panties apart again in half. You gasped at the feeling. The cloth in two- uselessly falling apart.

“No bra- no panties when I see you -easier access- do you understand…I have a need for you, do you get it-”

“Yes- yes, sir.”

“Close- but not it. You forgot. And you’ll be punished.”

He turned you around, so your bare ass was shown. He immediately spanked you hard- it clapped around you. You let out a shout.

“It’s thank you-Professor.”

“Thank you Professor!” you cried out, feeling the sting.

“And you will get it right!”

He spanked you again, harder. The momentum made you move against the desk, feeling your ass move with it. And feeling his greedy eyes all over your exposed skin.

“Th-Thank you, Professor!” you cried.

He pulled you back up but kept your back to his chest. He kissed your cheek, fondling you from behind, whispering in your ear.

“If you don’t want another punishment-Tell me what I am-”

“You-you’re my-my-”

The words failed you. He leaned you down again and spanked you.

“You’re my professor!”

He spanked you again.

“Say it again- and say thank you-”

“Yes- yes- thank you, Professor…”

He grazed over you. Feeling you. You were catching your breath. Dripping so hard. He put his hands against your inner legs.

“The more I do this- the more I see you, the more I’m with you, the more you- you torture me. I can’t stand it- I-I have to have you, Y/N- I have to, I have to-do you- do you want-”

You lightly turned your head over to see him and could have gasped.

He unzipped his pants and lowered them. Already his cock was large and twitching. It leaked so much, that his precum made you shiver. It drizzled down and made a path down his leg. You clutched onto the desk, smiling and bracing yourself.

“Yes- take me- take me on your desk, Professor…”

He smiled, and then his hand made you bend over it again. ‘

“Spread. Your. Legs.”

You were such a horny querying mess, he touched your legs so that they spread for him. Then finally, you felt him at your entrance, and inside.

You let out a long groan- and so did he. As he got in - inch by inch.

“Yes- yes all-ah!” you cried out as he got all of himself in you.

He eased you in at first. Your legs again over. He gave a few gentle, experimental thrusts. It was slow, even sloppy. Each intrusion, poking you inside. You were making an appreciative groan. You ground your hips further against him. The room was hot and smelled thick with sex.

“There…you can take…take all your professor's cock, can you?” he growled.

“Yes-yes I can..”

He then made a sharp thrust inside and you cried out.

“Oh!”

He then experimented- hips rolling towards your ass. You let out sounds like you never heard yourself make. He then had a hand to keep you down. To keep you down And then he began to pick up. Slamming into you. Keeping you still, close, on him.

“Nrg-nrgh- yes-there-fuck-there’s my-myfuck- good litlte student-nrgh-want to please me- hrng-begging-begging to-shit-yes-yes-darling-begging for me-”

You were moaning into it. Your body shakes forward and back from his thrusts. You felt yourself spiraling. Then he slowed. He leaned down and whispered into your ear. The pleasure was at a standstill, you caught your breath as you heard his hot voice right beside you.

“You have another order- cum only when I’m about to-cum when I tell you- yes?” he demanded

“Yes!”

“Yes, are you grateful!” He moved his hands to feel your arms.

“I am- th-tahnk you, Pr-Professor.”

He went back up and began to thrust again. Slow- then medium. You let out those pornographic sounds out as he did.

“Fuck- what you do to me, darling,” he breathed out.

He let out another gasp, his voice itching up in a groan and then back down. Then he slammed into you, letting out a loud voice.

“Who is going to let you cum? Who lets you cum when you’re a good girl?” he rasped.

“My-my- fuck-professor will- will let me-cum-yes!

“Not yet- not yet-mine is-if-fuck, it’s building.-”

He spread your legs wide and entered you. Then he grabbed your hips. He began to pound into you. The desk shaking- the wall quivering. Slamming against that wall with a thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. He whimpered your name. You clung onto it, your knuckles popping out of you.

“Yes-Yes you are-beautiful little student- you are-g-grateful- fuck.-tight-so tight- shit-”

He was so deep, just rutting into you. He was an animal. Pure fucking you into the desk You felt the itch of his suit- the deepness of it. The papers scrambling away- scratching you. The pure ecstasy of it.

“And” thrust “tell me-” thrust “tell me this”- thrust “darling-”

He laced a hand, it reached your folds. You let out a whimper. He dug around- two fingers in-already feeling you. God- you weren’t going to last. He wasn’t going to like it, but you weren’t going to last. You let out a whimper as you felt him inside you.

“What” thrust “ is it” thrust”- “what is it- good” thrust “good girls do- ”thrust

“They-they-they get to-to-to come, Professor-”

“Yes! Yes-you're at my-my limit-gods-gods- what you do to me-You’ve been good-so good- I can’t-I can’t-so cum, darling-”

He strummed you. And you let out another intense gasp. He was strumming you. His fingers making you more open, his cock in, out, in out. You felt it build- he played with your clit so much. Trying the right place, You felt it rise, but not there. And he kept thrusting. A frustration in his rasp.

“Yes- dammit- why won’t you now? Why won’t-won’t you cum?! Cum, dammit- cum- darling- fuck, fuck- god- yes, gods, I’m there…I’m getting there, cum, dammit- why won’t you cum…”

With a new fury, he pounded against you into the desk- the filthiest, most intense thing you felt. The pleasure building up you, going up, up about to be out of control.

“I’m- I’m going to-I’m going to-I’m going to cum, professor I-I-I”

It would spiral up, yes, but you had yet to reach it. You ground your hips further, moving from his thrusts, as his fingers were there- finding you at the still of your high and just needing your brink.

“Yes- God, yes-cum, darling-I order you, your professor orders you-Yes- yes, cum, girl, dammit- do it, cum, darling- fuck, I’m about to- do it- CUM!” he deamnded like a yell.

With a last shout you cried- “PROFESSOR!” and you came.

Spiraling down from the pleasure. It broke into chills over you-your voice left you and yet your heart was racing. You could feel him gushing into you and yet you could also feel the cum from your own body between your legs, on his fingers. He panted. He then moved you over. You saw his hair wild and arrayed. You moved it out of his face.

He looked at you with a sweet smile then took your hand and kissed it. He sat you down on a chair and took off his jacket- putting it over you like a cape. Then he went over and got you a glass of water from the pitcher.

His voice had softened, he kept touching your face, checking for any accidental bruises or marks.

“How are you? Are you…are you alright, Y/N? I didn’t go too…too-”

“You were perfect- it was perfect,” you replied with a smile. The water wasn’t super cold- but it was fresh.

He let out a sigh of relief. He then cupped your cheek.

“You should see yourself how I see you. You’re glowing. Absolutely glowing-I had only hoped you were…were happy with it…”

He looked down at the ruined bra and panties.

“I’ll buy you another…” he muttered in apology.

“Oh- an orgasm and dinner and new bra and panties? You spoil me rotten already!” you teased.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and then he helped you back to dressing.

“Here-we could…go back to my place and order something. At this rate, it might get late. I’m not that good of a cook-I was hoping a restaurant would impress you. I hope you don’t mind…”

“How could I, Professor?” you added, taking your hand in his.

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maryxglz · 5 years

Photo

The Avengers Assemble Premiere (2012)

#tom hiddleston #avengers #loki #hiddles cheekbones #cheekbones #hiddles smile #suit sunday

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lokilicious-hiddles · 4 years

Text

Tom Hiddleston.

Reblog if you agree.

#tom hiddleston #hiddles #hiddlesbum #loki #thor #avengers #marvel cincematic universe #mcu #high rise #crimson peak #cheekbones

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coppercorn-and-cauldron · 3 years

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Tonight's haul of Pinterest Hiddleston finds.

Holy serotonin boost, Batman.

#tom hiddleston #hiddles #hiddleston #thomas william hiddleston #dammit hiddleston #cheekbones of doom

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blacksuitofdoom · 5 years

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Me everytime I see Loki:

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tomhiddleslove · 5 years

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Tom Hiddleston arriving at the High-Rise Premiere – 2016 Tribeca Film Festival at SVA Theatre 2 on April 20, 2016, in New York City.

#tom hiddleston #hiddles #twhiddleston #high rise #tribeca film festival 2016 #sva theatre #high rise movie premiere #hiddles suit #brown suit #april 20 #hiddles smile #hiddles cheekbones video #hiddles 2016 #red carpet arrivals #throwback #on this day #gif and video from torrilla #new york city

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boldly-haunted-mind · 6 years

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i'd let tom hiddleston cut me with his cheekbones

and benadryl cucumberpatch him too

#lol #funny?#tom hiddleston #tom hiddles #benedict cumberbatch #benadryl cucumber #benadryl cucumberpatch #actors #marvel #marvel actors #marvel men #shakespeare in the park 2.0 #cheekbones #cheekbones are hot tho #im usually like this #stay away from me #im secretly crazy #oopsie

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talklokitome · 6 years

Photo

Guys. Guys, guys, guys. CHEEKBONES. ::dies::

#tom hiddleston #hiddles #hiddlestoner #hiddleston love #cheekbones #zygoma

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mostly-marvel-musings · 2 years

Note

No 2 from the prompts along with a mix of 2 and 4 (horror setting) if you can, with Sir Thomas Sharpe pleaseee?!

Help

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Warnings: 18+ mention of physical abuse, flangst.

Prompts used: Abandoned house.

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @suchababie @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @ladyburberry @chickensarentcheap @dontmindmyname123 @old-enough-to-know-better73 @buendiabebeta @princess-jules47

You were running.

Running away from the man who had vowed to be your lawfully wedded husband, from the man you had fallen in love with years ago, the man who broke every vow, every promise he’d made.

The man who was a monster in disguise of a fine gentleman.

You ran as fast as your feet would take you, until your sides were hurt, and your lungs were on fire. The forest seemed to stretch on forever, dense trees whizzing by in a blur as your feet continued their journey.

Vision distorted, you could make out a silhouette of a large mansion as the trees thinned out, moonlight bathing every bit of surface in its gleaming silver light. There wasn’t another house in sight, and you were desperate for shelter.

And so you decided to try your luck and go in, praying that whoever was inside were kinder than the men in your life.

The front door was left ajar, it was a dusty foyer that led to a parlour illuminated by candlelight.

“Hello? Is anyone home?” You called out, still a little winded from your run, voice shaky and unsure as your eyes took in the ornate paintings and family portraits adorning the walls, the grand piano that sat in a corner covered with cobwebs.

Turning around, you were startled as a rather tall man approached, surprisingly quiet as you hadn’t heard him walk in.

His handsome features were enhanced in the amber glow of the candles, jet black hair, sharp nose and sharper cheekbones, and the softest blue eyes you had ever come across. Dressed impeccably, he looked every bit the perfect Englishman you had ever met.

This man looked beautiful.

“I apologise for startling you, Miss. I am Thomas Sharpe, is there anything I can help you with?”

His velvety smooth voice was enough to calm your senses, he offered a kind smile that momentarily made you forget your woes. Something about him was enigmatic and yet you felt like you could trust him with your life.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and I am so sorry to intrude, I was running through the forest and stumbled upon this house—your house. To put it in simple words, I am running from my husband, he is a traitor, an evil man out to take my life because I found out about his dirty secret. I do not wish to burden you with details of my horrific life, Mr Sharpe, but I merely ask for a corner to spend this night in. I will be gone before the first rays of the sun hit, I promise.”

You brushed the tears that had formed in your eyes away and looked away, preparing to get thrown out as Thomas Sharpe remained silent.

“It would be cruel of me to not offer you shelter after what you have been through, Lady (Y/N). I am terribly sorry for what happened and you do not have to tell me anything that you do not wish to. If you would follow me upstairs, there is a spare room complete with a bed for you to rest.”

His eyes almost pleaded for you, recognizing your hesitation at once and reassuring you that you were safe here. You thanked him for being so generous and followed him up the stairs quietly, wincing as a sharp pain went through your leg.

“Are you injured?”

The man stopped and turned to you with concerned eyes, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I might be, I paid no attention to it, I had to get out of the place as quickly as I could. Nothing to worry about, I will manage, Mr. Sharpe.”

“Allow me to take a look, you might be bleeding and please call me Thomas.”

He led you inside yet another large space, promptly lighting candles all around letting you see the room decorated with antiques, a fireplace and a large four poster bed.

“Your house is lovely.”

“It is dusty and dilapidated, you are far too kind.” Thomas smiled, gesturing you to take a seat on the bed before he turned around to give you privacy.

“Where does it hurt?”

He asked quietly, waiting as you peeled your dress up, revealing a large cut across your ankle that was bleeding and another wound that had turned a nasty blue and black you had endured back in your home.

“Its a small cut on my ankle, its bleeding but like I said, should be better in the morning. Please don’t bother—”

By the time you could finish, Thomas was already by your side, kneeling beside your leg that was injured.

“May I?”

You nodded, not wanting to turn down those baby blues that bore into you, sleep and exhaustion tugging at your eyelids as they grew heavy.

He pulled out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wrapped it around your ankle, careful not to hurt you in any way before running his fingers over the bandaged part that grew warmer, almost as if it was healing already.

“Are you hungry, Lady (Y/N)? I could bring you some soup if you want.”

“Oh no, you’ve been of great help already, I would hate to be a bother.”

“You have had a long and hard day, my dear. I will get you some food and then you will rest for as long as you wish to. Do not worry, you are safe here.”

You sighed, believing him whole-heartedly as you smiled back genuinely after what had felt like days, nodding as Thomas returned down the stairs quietly to fetch you some food.

You couldn’t remember what awoke you in the night, but when your eyes opened, the blanket that covered you was flung on the ground. Moonlight streamed through the large windows in the room leaving an eerie glow to your surroundings.

Instinctively you checked on your ankle as you sat up against the cushions, shocked to find no blood stains on the handkerchief that Thomas had wrapped around it. It didn’t hurt either, it had healed completely.

Walking over to the huge French windows that overlooked the forest, you placed a hand on the glass and peered out. Not a draft of blowing breeze and yet it felt so cold, you wrapped your arms around yourself and retraced your day, not realising you had company.

You recalled the rage-filled argument you had with your husband that led him to slap you across your face so hard, you fell face-first on the chaise behind, how he had kicked you to the ground after you refused to keep your mouth shut.

Before you knew it, tears were streaming down your cheeks and you let out a sniffle that made Thomas clear his throat, making you jump yet again.

“Forgive me my dear, I was only checking in to see if you were okay.”

Wiping your tears away hurriedly, you gave him an unconvincing smile before staring back out the window.

“You’re awfully quiet when you walk. You came all the way here just to check if I was alright?”

Staring at his feet, Thomas said nothing, blaming himself for scaring you, hating himself for not being to leave you alone in peace.

Truth was, he needed to know you were safe, needed to see you sleeping soundly to admire your beautiful features in the moonlight.

“Would that be so alarming? I’d want you to be safe under my watch.”

His earnest reply touched your heart, given the condition you were in, it brought fresh tears to your eyes which you did not bother to wipe this time.

“Of course, I’m just—not used to it.”

“What went wrong? If you don’t mind my asking..” he prodded gently, gesturing you towards a chair that was right next to you. Thomas kept his eyes trained on you as you sat, his soft, kind smile encouraging you to speak out.

"My parents got me married at an early age because it was convenient, to put it simply. My husband made no efforts to keep his new bride happy, I poured all of mine in trying to love a man who wasn't in this marriage at all."

You stood up once more, walking over to the window, placing your hand against the cold glass and looking far into the woods.

"One night he came home, reeking of alcohol and the scent of another woman...didn't even try to hide it. When I tried confronting him, he didn’t…take it too well.”

Unknowingly your hand went over your abdomen where your husband had kicked you all those days ago. Thomas was filled with rage for the man responsible for your state but he kept quiet, listening to everything you were willing to share.

“I was silenced in every way possible, until today. I broke through the window of my bedroom where kept me locked in and escaped in the woods, ran for my life until I stumbled upon this place, you.”

“I was a fool.”

You added with a whisper, voice cracking at the end as tears streamed down your face. Thomas stepped closer to pull you into his embrace, no longer able to control the urge to comfort you.

You melted into his touch, feeling safer than you had ever been, safe enough to let the sobs wrack your body knowing he was there to hold you.

“Hush now, my darling. You aren’t a fool for expecting the love you deserve. You have suffered enough. It’s okay…I’ve got you now. You’re safe.”

His hushed whispers and soothing touches, words of comfort calmed your palpitating heart to an erratic but steady beat.

You had met Thomas Sharpe just a few hours ago and yet he had managed to bandage your wounds, both physical and emotional in that short span.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in his embrace, a part of you wished it could be just for a little while longer before you pulled away reluctantly.

Thomas caressed your face tenderly, moving the strands of hair that had escaped as his blue eyes bore into yours, searching, before steadily moving down to your parted lips and making your heart skip a beat.

The way your eyes closed in bliss gave him the answer he seeked to touch your lips with his, so delicately, you thought you’d dreamt it. A gentle brush of skin against skin was enough to make your heart flutter, something you had forgotten it could do.

You wanted more, and by the looks of it, so did Thomas. You felt a smile on your lips as you boldly took the initiative to deepen the kiss. Tongue peeking out to trace the soft depths and lines of his lips, before he welcomed it and allowed you to taste and explore.

Allowing yourself that moment of letting go of your inhibitions before becoming aware of your surroundings and stopping yourself rather reluctantly.

Thomas tightened his arms around you for a brief moment, pecking your lips one last time and resting his forehead on yours.

“You’re going to leave. Don’t.” He whispered, already having read your mind.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes, you do. Stay. I promise I will protect you, now and for as long as you will allow me.”

His words held such honesty, you believed him, more than you’d ever put a trust in someone.

“Okay.”

“Will you stay?”

“I will.”

You sighed, simply nodding as a reply as you linked your arms behind his neck, chuckling in delight when he picked you up and walked you towards your bed. Trusting those ocean blue orbs that held the promise of a better present, and perhaps a better future.

#sir thomas sharpe x female reader #sir thomas sharpe fanfiction #crimson peak au #thomas sharpe x you #thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe fluff #thomas sharpe fanfiction #thomas sharpe one shot #sir thomas sharpe one shot #sir thomas sharpe fluff #sir thomas sharpe x you #mostly marvel musings

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years

Text

Trust Me

Henry Cavill x reader

Summary: You’ve gone back to the same manipulate ex enough times that you’ve lost count, but Henry decides he won’t let you do it again.

Words: 1673

Notes/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, sexual tension (sort of), mention of manipulative relationships (but doesn’t go into detail), cursing.

Sacrificing yourself for someone who does not deserve it, throwing yourself on a wooden spike for them, despite how it may sound, is the easiest thing in the world, and when you fail to see the damage it inflicts because your denial is just that strong, you can die one hundred times over and not even notice.

But your denial has gradually weakened. You have started to notice that maybe you’ve killed yourself too many times for someone who does not deserve your love. Though newfound awareness does not erase the poor choices or the pain, and certainly not the fear of dragging that pain with you wherever you go.

“Sweetheart,” Henry says as he kneels in front of where you’re sitting on the couch, both of your hands gripped tightly in his. “You’ve got to stop.”

You can see him. You can see his worried lips, and his concerned, blue gaze, and his dark eyebrows pinched at the middle, and yet, you’re not positive he is with you. He is touching you and still, you’re praying he’s not a hallucination, because he feels very real and you like it just a little too much. You’ve always liked it just a little too much.

But then you remember the way Henry’s smile slipped the second you opened the door, and it provides sudden reassurance that he is really, solidly in front of you. As he had scanned your body up and down, his own not even past the threshold yet, the expression on his face couldn’t seem to decide between devastation or absolute outrage, and you hadn’t even said a word. That was all you needed to understand that you look as terrible as you feel. Not because of the man you happily gave up, but because of the aching anxiety he left lingering around you long after he was gone. Now, here you are, here Henry is, and you don’t want to dump those damaged feelings on him when he is the last to deserve it.

He touches your cheek, and the sensation of rough fingertips grazing along your skin tugs at the strands of your attention.

“All he ever does is break you, but you can’t keep breaking, Love. I can’t stand it any longer. I won’t let you go back to him ever again.”

You want to tell him not to worry, that you won’t go back, that you’ve finally learned from your mistakes, but you figure it changes nothing. Crumbled, broken, ripped apart one time or a hundred, it makes no difference. No matter how many times you fix yourself, you’ll never be enough. Even if repaired, a thing that has been shattered to bits retains little of its original value, does it not?

“You’re worth so much, and you deserve better than him. You deserve to be loved and taken care of.”

Holding your tongue is not easy. You itch to disagree, but it will only serve to intensify his argument. He’s said it all before, and when he saw you and realized that while he’d been away, you spent those months being manipulated by your ex for the umpteenth time, you were well prepared for him to say it again.

“Fuck,” Henry says. “I wish you’d just let me do it.”

Your eyes focus a little harder on his and you swallow.

“You know how much I want to,” He continues as he tucks a strand of messy hair behind your ear. “You’re not going to drag me down like you think you will, Sweetheart. I know that’s what keeps you from saying yes, but I promise you, the worst you could do is make me deliriously happy.”

“You don’t know that,” You finally speak, your voice hoarse as it passes through your dry, cracked lips.

Something like relief flashes in Henry’s eyes at your break in silence. “Yes, I do,” He says determinedly. “And I won’t drag you down, either. More than that, I won’t hurt you.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Have I ever hurt you?” He asks.

You don’t even have to think on it. He hadn’t. Not in all the years of your friendship had he done anything other than brighten your mood, but good people do painful things every day. If others have to suffer at the hands of those they love most, what hope might you both have of escaping the same fate if things evolved past platonic.

Your thoughts begin drifting to a darker place, but they are sharply yanked back to the surface when Henry leans up and softly presses his lips to your own. You still completely as a large hand shifts to the back of your neck and holds you close. And damn it, this is exactly what you were trying to avoid. You’ve always known that if he ever kissed you, that would be it. Game over. Now he has, and the longer your lips remain weaved with his, the harder it becomes to remember the reasons why you’ve never given yourself to him before. He has always wanted you; He made that abundantly clear. You are the one who has held back.

He pulls away before you begin to react to his kiss, then gives you one last peck and meets your eyes as they slowly open.

“I’m sorry,” He says, and your eyebrows rise slightly before settling back into neutrality. “I shouldn’t have—that wasn’t fair of me.”

Your gaze follows his body as he moves to sit beside you on the couch. He runs a hand through his hair before he covers his face with them both, braces his elbows on his knees, and groans into the cave of his palms.

You want to get closer to him, but he’s speaking again, and it makes you pause. “Oh, God, that was so selfish,” He says, more to himself than to you. “You’re going through shit, and I just--

He raises his head to look at you when your touch reaches his bicep, but then you push him down against the back of the couch and swing a leg over his thighs to straddle him.

He looks hesitant; his eyes wide, seemingly unconvinced your body is on top of his despite the friction of your hips or the way you cautiously trace the curve of his neck with your nails. His hands rise and his fingers twitch, and you know he wants to touch you, but won’t until you clearly show him that you want it too. So when you lean down and kiss him, he wastes no time firmly encasing you in his arms, moaning so deep you feel the vibration against your breasts.

Henry is different. His kisses follow your lead even when it’s obvious he wants to dominate you, make you his completely. His touch shows a respect you’ve never had the luxury of experiencing. There’s no room for anything between you. You’re connected; holding and feeling and seeing one another without restraint, with chests cracked open and hearts bare.

But then, what are hearts other than big, red, pumping targets practically calling for a sharp dagger to pierce their center. A tear slips down your cheek and you quickly separate your lips to wipe it away before Henry can see, but he beats you to it. His thumb slides along your cheekbone, smoothing the salty liquid into your skin.

“I…Henry, I don’t want to lose you,” You near whisper, sniffling. “If we hurt each other—"

“Sweetheart.” Henry trails an affectionate hand over your shoulder and down your arm, settling finally on your thigh. His fingers squeeze your flesh. “We won’t.”

You seal your eyelids and more tears fall that Henry gets rid of.

“You think us together would be a risk, but it’s not. It’s a sure thing, Love. As long as you want me, I will forever want you, and nothing can change that. You could scream at me until your lungs collapse, and I would still be in love with you.”

“I would never scream at you,” You mumble, bypassing his confession of love and trying your best to ignore the way every flowing, beating, humming part of your body freezes entirely.

“No,” He chuckles. “You wouldn’t. You would never yell or slap at me or say anything to break my heart. You don’t have a cruel bone in your beautiful body, so why do you assume we will be destructive to one another?” Henry’s thumb and index finger grip your chin and lift until your eyes can only meet his. “I am so in love with you, Y/N.”

“You keep saying that,” You mutter.

“Because it’s the truth.” He smiles. “God damn, is it the truth. You have no idea.”

You shift your hips and Henry lightly groans, his arm wrapping around you tighter. You blush when you realize what you’ve done.

With a smile, he pecks your lips to chase away the shy, guilty look on your face. “Just try this with me,” He says and gives you another quick kiss. “Trust me. I’ll take care of you. Be with me and I will prove it to you. I’ll prove how much I love you.”

You take in a shaky breath as he puts his palms to your cheeks and tilts your head until your foreheads meet. Your heart beats hard. Hard enough that you’re surprised each thump isn’t visibly pushing the left side of your chest outward. Your body has never worked this hard to prove a point to your brain. It tells you, you want this and it won’t let you convince yourself otherwise.

Pulling back, you smile down at him and run a finger over his bottom lip. “I trust you,” You say.

“So…”

“So…let’s try.”

tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999 @ufffg @debra77 @rebelliouscat @anise-d-castle6 @projectxhappiness @notmyfault404 @jjamesbbarness @guera31 @sophiatomlinson23 @thisismysecrethappyplace @hiddles-rose @mywinterwolf @picapicapicassobaby @genius2050 @lokilvrr @sunshine-seven @missjayi @agniavateira @tumblnewby @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite

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