#Hiddles fingers | 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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holdmytesseract · 4 months

Note

Request from @anukulee to @holdmytesseract

Title: Getting Her Out Of My Head

Plot: Magnus can’t stand her, she reminds him too much of what he has seen at work, time after time. As he watches his work tear people apart. Yet still she fights him even when he knows far better. Despite this he finds himself more and more drawn to her, and what happened when he may finally have to put his big boy pants on.

Magnus age range; 30 - 42 (at most)

Reader age range; 25 (fresh out of the academy), - 29 (oldest)

POV: Magnus

Concepts: Enemies to lovers, male falls hard, male pov, grumpy x sharp tongue sunshine, and angst with happy ending.

The Quarrel of Lovers Is The Renewel of Love

Magnus Martinsson x fem!Reader

Summary: You are Magnus Martinsson's reckless protégée; acting headless and not listening to a word he says - what gets you in a dangerous situation in the end... And the policeman to confess his feelings...

Warnings: Magnus PoV?, police things, mentions of guns, knives and drugs, fluff, angst, dangerous situation, mutual pining? age gap

Word Count: 2,7k

a/n: I'm so sorry this took me so long, friend! I changed the title - what I hope is okay! Also, I really hope that you like what my brain came up with! :)

Hiddles Tags: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @lokiforever @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @crimson25 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @coldnique @eleniblue @huntedmusicgardenn

Masterlist

"Hey, Martinsson!" One of the other detectives inside the big office at the police station in Ystad called out to the curly haired man, who was currently standing in front of the printer; trying to get the stubborn device to work again.

He lifted his gaze at the call of his name; eyes searching the room for the source of the voice. It was Clas Anderson - one of the rare colleagues Magnus didn't get along with. He was just way too arrogant and smart-aleck for his liking. The blond haired man took a deep breath and called out: "What is it, Clas?" His colleague responded with a spiteful smirk. "When do you finally learn to get your chaotic apprentice under control, huh?" Magnus rolled his eyes with a big sigh, "What did she do this time?" and abandoned the printer, in order to walk over to his colleague.

"Acting headless - as always. Even on observation. I won't take her with me again." Clas stepped closer, almost in a threatening way. "Y/L/N is your responsibility. Talk sense into her, damnit." Anderson pressed his pointer finger into the hard muscle of Magnus' chest. "Or I'm paying the executive floor a visit and tell them you're not fitting this role." The detective sighed. "I know that. I'm already doing everything I can, but she just won't listen. She's stubborn." "I don't care, Martinsson. That's your problem. Fucking fix it." With a snarl and a last threatening look, Clas brushed past Magnus.

It's been already almost six months since Y/N Y/L/N had joined the team in Ystad - but it passed for Magnus with almost no progression. He was chosen to be the young, aspiring detective's mentor. He had the duty to teach her; show her how a police officer should work. Take her under his wing. It sounded great in the beginning. Magnus' chest filled with pride, knowing that he was trusted with such a task. Over the years, he had definitely become one of the most important officers for the team. He got older; more mature - and it showed. Magnus knew exactly what he was doing. Kurt had taught him well.

But the excitement about this new chapter in his work life subsided soon... As soon as he met the quirky, young and talkative woman he should guide through her first years as a police officer - just like Kurt had guided him. Well, sometimes more, sometimes less, but that wasn't the point. From the first meeting between him and Y/N, he immediately felt that this wasn't going to work. Their perspectives were just too different. Y/N was reckless, stubborn and acted often headless. She didn't follow his instructions, which often put her in danger. Luckily no real danger, but it was enough to infuriate the curly haired man.

He did his best to not let her get under his skin, but Magnus couldn't help himself. At the end of the day, she was his 'apprentice' and 'responsibility'. It annoyed him to the core. She annoyed him to the core and yet he wasn't able to just turn his back on her. He couldn't. He didn't want to - and every night, he asked himself why. It could be so easy for him. One word was enough.

Magnus shook his head; ripping himself out of his deep thoughts. He ran a hand through his meanwhile dark blond mane. His curls had become visibly darker with the years.

He had grown. Not just mentally.

"Let's get this over with..." He sighed and made his way out of the room and down the hall to his office. Yes, he had a very own office by now. Walking through the glass door, he already saw her seated there; innocently playing with the slighty too long sleeves of your light blue blouse. Magnus swallowed. He didn't actually really want to do this, but he had to.

Rather loudly, he closed the door behind himself; causing her to jump slightly. "Y/L/N..." The detective addressed her sternly with her surname. "What happened during observation with Anderson?" His deep blue eyes settled on her smaller frame; watching her scrunch her nose and shrugging her shoulders. "I just did what I thought was right." Y/N answered nonchalantly. Magnus frowned; not quite believing her. "Clas said you acted headless. Again." The woman with the Y/H/C scoffed. "I didn't act headless! I just wanted to interfere, before-" The older detective gritted his teeth; tired of her constant excuses and her not owning up to her obvious mistakes.

Clas may be an arsehole - but he was an experienced detective and certainly not stupid.

Magnus had a long thread of patience, but it came how it had to come someday... He lost it. "You know what, Y/L/N? I don't want to hear it! Don't waste your breath! This is going to lead nowhere - like all our serious conversations do! It's pointless, until you finally stop being so utterly stubborn and headless and listen to me - or other experienced detectives!" Y/N stood up from her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not a newbie anymore, Magnus! I know what I'm doing!" Magnus shook his head. "No, you don't! You don't have the experience! I never said that you're a newbie! Sure, you know your job, but sometimes you just should listen to me! It'll get you in serious trouble sometime! I can assure you that!"

The woman groaned in frustration and rounded the desk; stepped closer to her mentor. So close, that she was almost chest to chest with him. "I don't think I'm the problem. You are. You didn't like me from the first day. Don't pretend it isn't true! You just don't trust in my skills enough is all!"

The curly haired man felt the blood boil within his veins. Why was she so annoying and unreasonable? "No, that is not true! I just don't want you getting yourself hurt or even killed! We're not dealing with kid stuff like neighbour fights or drunkards behind a steering wheel, no..." He sighed; pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, we are dealing with the heavy stuff. Raids, drug businesses and murder! I've seen what this job can do to people! I know what can happen, so please... Please let me talk some sense into you right now!" His apprentice stepped even closer. So close, that he could feel her warm breath on his face. "I know what we are doing, Magnus. I'm neither stupid, nor blind. Learn to trust me more. Have some confidence in me and stop treating me like I'm made of glass."

She held his hard gaze for a few seconds, then walked past him; "My shift it over. I'll see you tomorrow." and left him behind in his office.

Magnus wanted to scream and throw something against the wall. Why does she had to make things so difficult? It could be so easy! After taking a few deep breaths, he sat down at his desk; closing his eyes for a short moment. "This woman is going to break my nerves..." The curly haired man muttered to himself; opening a file he had to work on.

Only a mere week later happened exactly that what Magnus always tried to prevent from happen. Y/N's recklessness got her into a dangerous situation...

The pair was on observation duty today; for a case involving a drug business. Their suspect was a young man; living in the poorer district of Ystad. Together, Magnus and Y/N walked to the detectives car. "Remember, Y/N... We are just on observation, okay?" She opened the passenger door; giving him a smile. "Sure, Mags! I got it. Loosen up a little." Eyeing her for another moment, he sat inside the car; slamming the door shut.

The older police officer drove them to their destination - a very old, bedraggled building at the edge of the town. It has been reported that this was a 'famous' drug business destination, so... And besides was their suspect spotted here before. Magnus parked the car a bit offsides; not to attract any attention. And with that, the observation started. It took a long few hours until something was happening in front of the building... A car stopped right in front of it. Somebody was getting out of the vehicle.

The curly haired man grabbed his binocular. "It's him. It's Bergman." The young police officer reached for her binoculars as well. "Looks like he's waiting for someone." Magnus agreed. "Yes..."

"Let's get closer."

The curly haired man shook his head. "No, Y/N. We are just observing, remember?" "Yes, but-" "No buts. We are staying in this car." The young woman inhaled deeply. "Yes, boss."

"Stop calling me that." "Why?" "Because I don't like it and you know it." She giggled. "Alright... Boss."

Magnus rolled his eyes; feeling his nerves stressed out again. "Y/N, I swear, if you don't-" "Oh my gosh, this is a drug deal! We are witnessing one of Bergman's drug deals!" She suddenly interrupted her mentor; gazing through the binoculars again, "Look!" and reached over to slap the elder man's shoulder. Martinsson did what Y/N asked him to do and watched the scenes unfold through his binoculars.

He swallowed. "It seems like it, yes." "We have to intervene, Magnus! We have to do something!" For the nth time, the curly haired detective shook his head. "No, we won't," he hissed. "If we do that now, just intervene and something gets wrong, we- Y/N, stop!"

He shouldn't have averted his eyes from his protégée. A mistake with consequences.

The last thing he saw of her, was how she stormed out of the car; weapon drawn. "Damnit!" Magnus cursed; slamming his hands down on the steering wheel, before running them through his thick curls. Quickly reaching for the binoculars again, he watched her every step; his fingers curling tightly around it.

Don't act with precipitation, don't act with precipitation, Magnus repeated the words like a prayer inside his head. Keep a cool head.

He watched how Y/N sneaked up towards the building and the two men; clearly with the intention to corner them - and that's what the young police officer did, but without success.

One of the two men (not the main suspect) broke out in panic and fled. Magnus swallowed; still watching. She went to approach Bergman; wanted to arrest him, but it didn't go how she planned this. Exactly that happened, what Magnus always had been afraid of... Y/N's headlessness got her into a dangerous, life threatening situation...

Everything happened so fast. One moment she was about to put handcuffs around Bergman's wrists and the next she found herself in the clutches of another man - probably their suspect's friend or henchman, with her gun on the ground and a knife pressed snugly against her neck. That was the moment Magnus lost it. He had to intervene. He needed to save this reckless woman and protect her. At all costs. He knew that he should call for backup and get this done the right and proper way, but he couldn't. Seeing Y/N with a knife pressed against her neck, caused the attentive policeman to lose it.

Magnus' heart dropped into his gut. It made him act headless, too.

He stormed out of the car; slamming the door shut behind himself. As fast as possible, he sneaked his way over. Magnus' heart was thumping against his ribcage; adrenaline, fear and nervosity flooded his system. Gritting his teeth and taking a few deep breaths, he left his hideout - gun drawn and loaded. "Ystad polisen! Släpp kniven!" The man's eyes who held Y/N widened, while Bergman wanted to reach for his own weapon. Something Magnus halted. "Tänk inte ens tanken! Händerna bakom huvudet, nu!" Then he turned to face the other young man. "Och du ska släppa kniven och låta henne gå!"

The man with black hair scoffed. "Varför ska vi låta henne gå?" The curly haired detective gritted his teeth. He saw only two ways out of this... Actually one. Shooting them was definitely not an option.

He looked over at Y/N. He saw how the young woman trembled in the bulkier man's arms; trying to hold back the tears.

Magnus swallowed hard. "Låt henne gå så låter jag dig gå." As a sign that he really meant it, the detective engaged the safety of his gun and threw it away, before he lifted his hand in surrender. Y/N's eyes widened at the foolish behaviour of Magnus. She had never seen him acting like this before.

"Låt henne nu gå."

The two men looked at each other and nodded. The black haired one threw Y/N aside and both started to run; quickly vanishing out of their sight.

Magnus didn't hesitate; was quick to rush immediately at Y/N's side. "Are you alright?" He asked; concerned eyes scanning her body as he crouched down beside her; wrapping his arms around her body. The young police officer nodded; still a bit trembling. Magnus didn't hesitate; lifted her up and carried her back towards the car, bridal style.

After sitting her in the passenger seat and getting a blanket from the trunk to wrap around her; he started the engine and pulled the car back on the road.

No one said a single word on the entire ride. Magnus was still trying to process what happened and Y/N was still way too shocked and shaken. Instead of driving back to the police station, took Magnus Y/N to his home, where he guided her up the stairs and sat her gently down on the sofa; blanket still wrapped around her. Minutes later, she had a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

"Thank you," the young woman mumbled quietly. "Of course," Magnus reassured her and sat down beside her. "Do you feel better?" She nodded; taking a small sip from the tea. Once more they sat in silence, until Y/N finally had the bravery to ask the question which was ghosting through her head already the whole car ride. "Why did you do that?"

The curly haired man's eyes snapped up to meet Y/N's. He swallowed hard; nervously rubbing his palms together.

"Because I had to."

She shook her head. "No... You didn't. You were acting headless. Something you never did before..."

He wanted to scream. Again. The realisation which had dawned on him after he went to save her was like a punch into the guts. Deep down he knew it, but nevertheless didn't see it coming.

"Well... Perhaps this is just what people do when they're in love."

"W-What?" Y/N blinked; visibly didn't see that coming. "I-In love? A-Are you trying to say that-"

"I've fallen in love with you, yes."

Silence.

"I-I don't know what to say, I..." Magnus gave her a gentle smile, despite that he felt like dying inside. "You don't have to say anything, Y/N." He knew that his feelings weren't reciprocated. Why should they? What would Y/N want with a man who was almost ten years older than her? "You wanted an honest explanation. I gave you one and that was it. This is an issue I have to deal with, not y-" The detective got interrupted and literally overwhelmed that her lips were suddenly on his; massaging them gently and encouraging him to kiss back.

It felt surreal. Like a dream - but he couldn't help himself but to give in and melt into the kiss.

"So... Does that mean my feelings are reciprocated?" He panted against her lips; smiling. Y/N scoffed playfully. "Didn't I make that very clear?" Magnus shook his head. "No, no, I think you need to give me a few more evidences." She smirked.

"Gladly."

Translation:

Släpp kniven! - Drop the knife!

Tänk inte ens tanken! Händerna bakom huvudet, nu! - Don't even think about it! Hands behind your head, now!

Och du ska släppa kniven och låta henne gå! - And you are going to drop that knife and let her go!

Varför ska vi låta henne gå? - Why should we let her go, huh?

Låt henne gå så låter jag dig gå. - Let her go and I'll let you go.

Låt henne nu gå. - Now let her go.

#magnus martinsson x reader #magnus martinsson #wallander fanfiction #wallander #wallander fanfic #magnus martinsson x you #magnus martinsson x y/n #magnus martinsson fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston characters

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freesia-writes · 1 month

Text

Hunter Fic Sneak Peek #4

(author's note -- this is about as raunchy as it'll get; keeping the whole thing PG-13)

She pushed him until his back was flush against the wall, head spinning and heart racing. Her hands were heavy on his chest, his neck, his cheeks... She cupped his face with fervent desire, gazing affectionately into his eyes before closing her own, tilting her head, and pressing her lips to his.

Her hands began to roam again, stroking and caressing, pulling feelings and yearnings and urges from him that had been dormant as long as he could remember. An initial resistance welled up, adding to the constant confusion, but it was soon diminished beneath her passion as she kissed him again and again.

Heat flushed Hunter's body from head to toe, and he opened up to her, his fingers gripping her waist as he leaned in. A feminine, breathy sigh escaped her as the intensity grew, their faces pressed together, lips caressing and tugging. She opened her mouth more, sliding her tongue against his, and tingles coursed through his veins as he met her fervor with his own, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and losing himself to the ardor growing in his core.

She ran a hand up the back of his neck, digging it into his hair and tightening her grip, pulling back for a moment to regard him with unbridled lust. "You are so kriffing hot, you know that? Damn, the things I want to do to you..." she murmured, heavy-lidded eyes following the contour of his face as he opened his eyes to meet hers, smoldering with intensity.

A small smile curved her cheeks, and she bit her lip before leaning in again, capturing his lips in her own with a more possessive tenacity that continued to awaken things throughout his entire body. He was reeling from the sheer overwhelm of it all -- her scent, her breath, her body, her sensuality, her uncomplicated want for him. This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? Freedom from responsibility, freedom to pursue a future of his own, freedom to release the burden of every possible consequence and to simply enjoy life on life's terms...

Her hand slipped beneath his shirt, his muscles tensing against her touch and fanning the flame where her fingernails gently raked up toward his chest. Soft lips trailed to his jawbone, below his ear, down the side of his neck, setting him on fire inside and out. Hunter tilted his head away, feeling her consuming desire spreading through his own chest.

This was what he had wanted. This was the right choice.

Wasn't it?

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fanficshiddles · 8 months

Text

The Cure, One Shot

Thank you for the prompt: If I could be anon please. A young woman is sent to the doctor for hysteria, Doctor Hiddleston knows just the cure for that. Non-con please.

WARNINGS: Rape/Non con!!

You were terrified as you waited in the doctor’s waiting room for your appointment. What didn’t help was it was the end of the day, so you were the last one there, aside from whoever was in with the doctor at the moment.

Even the receptionist was getting ready to head home, no doubt as soon as you were finished, she would be out the door.

Your anxiety was through the roof as it was, you hated having to talk to people in general. Especially about a problem that was… slightly intimate.

But your anxiety worsened when you saw the patient before you leaving a room, followed by the doctor. It was a male doctor. You had specifically asked for a female doctor when you made the appointment, briefly saying it was an intimate type of issue to the receptionist.

You were twirling your fingers around in your lap as the doctor spoke briefly to the receptionist, sending her home since it was already late. As his appointments had run over, that he would lock up. That’s when it clicked, you realised it was Doctor Hiddleston. He owned half of the practice.

Doctor Hiddleston looked over at you and smiled warmly as he said your name. ‘Come right through.’ He motioned to his room.

You hesitated big time, wanting to just run out the door instead. But you took a deep breath and put on your big girl pants, he was a professional after all. There was nothing to worry about. You needed to get this issue sorted out sooner rather than later. Besides, he looked nice and his voice was quite soothing, which put you at ease a little bit.

So you headed into the room and he followed you in and shut the door. He motioned for you to sit down as he sat at the desk.

‘I’m Doctor Hiddleston. There’s no need to be nervous, I’m here to help.’ He said kindly as he turned to face you with a warm smile and clasped his hands together. ‘What seems to be the problem?’

You gulped hard before responding. ‘I uh… well, I’m not really sure.’ You looked down at your hands in your lap, fiddling your fingers about nervously. ‘My anxiety seems to be getting worse… I also have been feeling super restless and not been sleeping great. I’ve been getting hot flushes too, mostly at night. My stomach is often sore. But my uh… my periods are all out of whack, there’s no pattern to them anymore.’ Your face felt like it was on fire as you told him.

He nodded and hummed as he listened. ‘Do you have a partner?’

‘No… Not for about a year.’

‘Ok, are you sexually active? Or have you been since?’ He asked.

Your eyes widened a little at that question. You shook your head.

He turned to his computer for a moment and typed a few notes, then turned back to face you with a serious look. ‘I think I now exactly what the problem is. You’ve got hysteria.’

‘What?!’ You gasped, horrified. ‘I… I thought… there was no such thing?’

Doctor Hiddleston chuckled gently. ‘Hysteria is most definitely real, I’m afraid. You have classic symptoms of it. But there’s no need to worry at all, it’s a very easy cure. It might take a few visits, but you will find after this appointment there’s a big difference.’

He stood and walked over to the door, your stomach twisted in fear as he locked said door. Then he went to the examination table and smoothed out a fresh sheet.

‘Come and make yourself comfortable here.’ He patted the table.

‘What… What is the cure?’ You asked, your voice trembling.

‘It’s a simple job, some external stimulation to release some of the tension. Or in simple terms, an orgasm.’ He smiled.

You rose from your chair and began moving towards the door as you shook your head. ‘I… I don’t think… No thank you… I will think it over, perhaps.’ As you reached the door, even though you knew it was locked you still tried the handle. Panic began setting in when you realised for certain you wouldn’t get out.

Hiddleston tsked and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. ‘Come now, you need to do as you’re told or you’ll never get better. It won’t hurt, I promise.’

‘This can’t be right, surely, it’s outdated. Please.’ You whimpered.

‘Are you really questioning my many years of training?’ He asked in a firm tone. You said nothing in response.

‘Get on the table. Don’t make this worse for yourself. I will not have a patient of mine leave here without proper treatment, do you know how damaging that would be to my reputation? So we can do it the easy way, or the hard way. It’s down to you.’ He growled at you.

Your whole body was shaking badly as you hesitantly made your way over to the table. You felt like you were going to be sick as you clambered on and lay down on your back.

‘That’s a good girl. Wasn’t so difficult now, was it?’ He said with a smile as he stroked your ankle. You were really regretting wearing a skirt now.

He put some stirrups into place and one at a time, put your foot into them and to your horror, restrained them in place with a strap around your ankle.

‘Please, I don’t like this.’ You whimpered, but he completely ignored your plea.

When he picked up a pair of scissors, you thought the worst. But he used them to cut off your knickers, which was horrifying enough. You tried closing your legs but couldn’t because of the stirrups.

‘Stop! Please! Just let me go!’ You sat up and tried to reach down to free yourself, but with a short wrestle he was able to capture both of your hands in his large ones.

That’s when you realised how strong he was as he easily pinned your hands down above your head, and he restrained them with his belt, tying them to the table on a bar that was just underneath.

‘I did offer the easy way. This is your own fault. But you will feel better after the treatment, I guarantee it.’ He said gruffly as he moved back down to the bottom of the table, between your legs. You were spread open and so vulnerable to him.

He spent a moment looking at you down there, spreading your lips apart and sliding his finger around. He put some lube onto his fingers and spread them over you, making you gasp a little and your body jolt when he brushed across your clit.

A wicked smirk spread on his lips as he repeated the movement, earning the same reaction.

‘Yes, most definitely a case of hysteria. You are very sensitive, which is a classic symptom. No need to worry, this is easy to fix. However, with you being so anxious I think you need a more specific kind of treatment. Something that toys won’t be able to do.’ He slowly circled your clit with his thumb and just as slowly inserted a finger into you, pushing through your tightness because of how tense you were.

‘What do you mean?’ Your voice was high pitched as you tried to squirm away from his touch. But you got no explanation yet.

He continued circling your clit, then inserted a second finger into you and he took his time exploring inside you. Twisting his fingers this way and that, to your horror he was starting to make you feel really good… Too good.

But it became unbearable when he curled his fingers in just the right way and in a come-hither motion, he rubbed across your g spot firmly. Between that and the clit stimulation, your mind was shutting down. Even as you continued to plead with him to stop. You felt so violated.

You started sobbing just as he made you cum, the confusion was horrible. Your mind was completely against what he was doing, but your body was begging and screaming for more. He kept stroking you through your orgasm, making the pleasure heighten to something you’d never felt before. You weren’t sure if your tears were from the assault or the pleasure.

‘That’s it. Now that wasn’t so scary, was it?’ He grinned widely.

You turned your head to the side away from him as tears fell down your cheek. You were so relieved when he removed his fingers from you.

You thought it was over. But it was far from over.

You heard rustling and as you looked down, you began struggling again. He was undoing his trousers and pulling his cock out, to your horror he was already hard and he stroked himself a few times, aiming right at your cunt.

‘As I said, your case is quite far advanced. You need a thorough fucking to feel better, plus your body is craving to be bred. So that’s what we need to give it.’

No! NO! Please, no! Stop, I’m begging you! I won’t tell anyone, just stop. Please! I’m cured. It’s fine!’ You were struggling so much that the table was starting to rock.

But Hiddleston tugged you down a little so you were right at the bottom of the table, and he stepped in-between your thighs. You screamed at him to stop, screamed for help, but there was no-one in the building to hear you.

When he pressed the tip of his cock against your soft lips, you tried flailing your legs more, but the stirrups were in place too well. He put his hand firmly on your abdomen, pinning you down to keep you from breaking the table or the stirrups, then he pushed into you. Excruciatingly slowly, inch by inch, making you feel all of him.

‘Please.’ You sobbed, but it was pointless. He was taking you, whether you wanted it or not. There was absolutely nothing you could do.

‘Ohh, so tight. It has been a while.’ He growled as he started thrusting into you at a decent pace, no doubt bruising your poor insides. He was a large man too, in every aspect of the meaning. So you felt him in places you’d never felt before.

Annoyingly, he was hitting your g spot with every stroke, and it got worse when he started rubbing your clit again with his thumb.

‘You will feel so much better after this.’ He grunted between thrusts. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he pounded into you, dragging out this nightmare.

When you realised that he was about to cum inside you, you just cried even more. Knowing there was no point pleading him to stop, because there was no way he was going to.

‘Think of it as I’m putting out the fire inside of you, darling.’ He panted and forced you to cum again on his cock with a well angled thrust and firm rub of your clit.

As you cried out in a mixture of pleasure and emotional pain, he came too from the way your body naturally squeezed around him, wanting him to do exactly what he was about to.

He came inside you, in abundance. You could feel him filling you up and it felt like he was never going to stop. He was trembling as he stared you down with a wicked grin, he thrust slowly a few more times for good measure, causing some of his sperm to seep out of you, you could feel it dribbling down onto the sheet underneath.

‘That’s it. See, that wasn’t such a horrible treatment, was it?’ He asked as he pulled out of you and sorted himself out.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even look at him. Even as he undid your restraints, you just lay there.

He barked your name, making you jump. You reluctantly did turn your head to look at him. He gripped your chin and brushed his thumb against your cheek as fresh tears escaped.

‘Shhh, shhh. No need for that, because you don’t need to worry. I know you feel better already, and after a few more sessions you will be fighting fit again.’

He saw the look of horror that crossed your face.

‘And remember, I know where you live. So I can easily organise home visits for the remaining treatments… And don’t forget, I have a wonderful reputation in this city, it would be a shame if someone was to try and spoil that over something so silly. Especially when she enjoyed it so much, too. Cumming all over my cock like a little whore.’ He growled deeply.

You knew that was his way of warning you. And you knew he was right, there was no way you’d be able to tell anyone that would believe you. Plus, he really did know where you lived, he had access to all of your information. What if he was more dangerous than you thought? There was no way you could risk it…

‘Now, head off home and relax. You should sleep well tonight.’ He unlocked the door then opened it. ‘If there’s anymore issues, just give me a call.’

Even though your legs were completely jelly, you scrambled off the table and ran out of the room.

‘I’ll see you in a week’s time for the second round of treatment.’ He called after you as you fled from the building.

#tom hiddleston #one shot #prompt #Tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you

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mostly-marvel-musings · 1 year

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Forget me not

Summary: Years after losing your husband, you are on a path of moving on with your life, however, you need help. And who better to give that encouraging push than Tony’s AI?

Warning: 18+ angst, bittersweet, some fluff.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Square filled: Hologram

Word count: 600ish

A/N: I’M SORRY. Written for @avengersbingo

Avengers Bingo Masterlist

“What about this? Too much?”

Holding two statement necklaces in front of your reflection, you tilted your head sideways, silently hoping Tony would say neither.

“Diamonds, definitely diamonds. They always suit you better, hon.”

Sighing, you let out a soft groan and agreed with the choice, going over the bed where a selection of dresses lay like a scattered rainbow.

Even a small decision like this one seemed like the most difficult one these days. Partly because your heart wasn’t fully in it, or maybe you were just not ready.

“I can hear you thinking, Y/N. Go with the strappy red, it brings out your best features. Plus it’s my color.”

You could practically hear Tony’s smirk, you closed your eyes for a moment and smiled, normally he’d wrap his arms around you and pull you against his chest, nibble on the soft skin of your neck and let his stubble tease your skin.

“It’s not for you though, is it?”

You turned around with a sad smile, Tony—or rather his life-size hologram followed you up next to the mirror again, this time crossing his arms and leaning against it as he studied you with a fond smile on his handsome face.

It had been over two years since he passed in the events with Thanos, sacrificed his life to save the universe and brought all those turned to dust back. As heartbroken and devastated as you were, he had left you and Morgan a piece of himself; the bastard had thought through everything.

His quips and sarcastic comments followed you everywhere, helped your daughter sleep when she demanded a story specially narrated by her Dad, it was almost like he was still here.

Almost.

“Earth to Miss Y/L/N? Isn’t your date in like ten minutes?” He snapped his fingers bringing you back to reality, his hologram glitching just slightly at the sides. It stabbed through your heart that you weren’t Mrs. Stark anymore.

“Maybe I should cancel. I don’t think I’m ready, Tony. I don’t know if I will ever be.” You murmured, throwing the dress behind, suddenly the thought of putting in so much effort for another guy seemed overwhelming to you, and it wasn’t the first time.

“Stop flattering me, honey. What was the one promise you made me?”

“That I’ll never get over you? That I won’t ever stop loving you? That nobody will ever take your place?” You felt tears sting in your eyes as you finished speaking, wanting nothing more than for Tony to wrap you in his all-consuming hugs.

“That you will always choose to be happy.” He reminded you, walking over and pretending to catch a tear that escaped down your cheek. You saw him do it, but felt nothing. His big brown eyes that missed the spark that real Tony had, bore into you, waiting for an answer.

“I will choose to be happy.”

You nodded, giving him an almost convincing smile as you picked the red dress finally, going over your appearance one last time and blowing Tony a kiss who pretended to catch it with a chuckle. It was a small step towards that long journey that was ‘moving on’.

Damn it. You still did hate when he was right.

Tony Stark Taglist - @patheticallysentimental @raspberrymama @ladyeliot @boop-le-snoot @make-a-memory-drink-it-up @loveisallyouneed1125 @ownsmyheart @anthonyjanthony666 @downeyreads @the-secret-thief @getlostsquidward @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @elemephstudies @mycosmicparadise @feetoffthetablee @vibraniumwing @damntonystarkandhissmile @stronginawayjbb @mm2305 @underoostarks @ccbsrmsf1

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @mcugeekposts @suchababie @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @ladyburberry @chickensarentcheap @nataliewalker93 @alexxavicry

#tony stark x female reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark angst #avengers bingo #tony stark imagine #tony stark fluff #tony stark feels #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x you #tony stark drabble #tony stark fic #tony stark oneshot #iron man fanfic #iron man fluff #iron man fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mostly marvel musings

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wrathkitty · 1 year

Text

Silver Q - (finally!) A one shot from "Hello, My Dear"

“You’re about two hundred years too early to be wearing that outfit,” he drawls, referring to your mid-24thcentury uniform. He lifts an eyebrow. “Or a billion years too late depending on which side of the timeline you’re from. Who are you?”

“Just me,” you answer simply, raising one shoulder in a shrug.

He scrutinizes you a second time, growing irritated. You are not a Q, or one of those insufferable, insouciant Travelers. Aside from the El Aurian, you’re as pathetically human as everyone else on this odious planet. Yet somehow you are less-than-human, and more…more. There is an undefinable quality about you that suggests you have been alive far longer than you appear. But stranger still is your undeniably affectionate smile. No one ever looks at him affectionately. And now that it’s happening, he is not entirely sure if he likes it. It means that you know his secrets and where all the skeletons are buried and may have even helped him dispose of one or two.

You’ve picked up his newspaper and started skimming the headlines, and blink in surprise when he plucks it out of your hands.

“Answer me,” he barks. “Who. Are. You?”

You musingly tilt your head, mulling over the question. “How did you put it? An adorably harmless angel of death?”

His face twists. He cannot afford the luxury of squandering his powers on putting a maybe-mortal upstart in her place, but pride gets the better of him. Teeth clenched, he snaps his fingers (successfully, this time) and whisks you both to a more secluded area.

Silver Q - A Hello, My Dear One-shot

Hello, My Dear - Stories of the life and times of Q and his mortal more-than-just-a-friend, Ensign Reader. Because being omnipotent doesn’t mean a thing when it comes to relationships.

@nildespirandum @caffiend-queen

@mareebird

@my-fic-corner

@captainchris-pike

@trekmystars

@airmitchbaby

@fanfic-fangirl

@witchy-moon-kitty

@spacedadpicard

@android-boyfriends

@reileth

@herbalsingularitea

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@mayhemmachine

@scrumptious-finicky-illusion

@just-the-hiddles

@paranoiac1963

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@lady-of-black-roses

@fndmsrndmyfckinglfe

@toozmanykids

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@impalaanddemons

@et-tu-bro

@theboardwalkbody

@natashacrane

@essence-stealer

@last-of-cheese

@onlydrawnbad

@gaitwae

#q x reader #q x ofc #q (star trek)#q star trek #q tng #star trek: tng #tng fanfic #hello my dear #star trek the next generation #star trek: the next generation #picard season two #star trek picard #picard s2

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peterman-spideyparker · 2 years

Note

Lol imagine watching Star Wars with Steven and seeing Poe on screen and being like “haha, Steven Poe looks a lot like you.” And Steven, bless his heart, can’t see it

Omg yes yes yes!!!😂😂 He’d be such a sweetheart and listen you you try and prove your point, but he’d still be like “okay, sure.” And whoops my finger slipped and I wrote a little blurb in my notes on my phone and pushed all my other WIPs to the side and am currently posting to post😁😇

I Don’t See It (Steven Grant x Reader One-Shot Drabble)

Steven furrows his brows when he tilts his head to hand you the bowl of popcorn. He had noticed that you had been looking back and forth at him out of the corner of his eye for a while, but your prolonged stare as the television illuminates your face piques his curious mind.

“What is it, love?” he smirks softly, his coffee brown eyes trying to read you.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” you return, taking a handful of the snack and munching on it. “C’mon, hon. You’re telling me you don’t see it?”

“Don’t see what?” he asks again, lightly licking his lips as his brain works at light speed to try and piece together what you’re trying to get across.

“You look just like Poe!” you giggle.

“Are you having a laugh?”

“I’m serious! You could be twins: the beautiful brown eyes, the strong, handsome jawline, the fluffy hair? I mean, sure, your hair is a bit more curly, but, it looks just as soft as yours is.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like him just as much as me,” Steven chuckles as you lean forward, running your fingers through his hair to part it like the actor in the film. As your fingers comb though his hair, someone of the more prominent curls on his head become less defined and more like Poe’s. Pulling out your phone, you quickly snap a picture of Steven and pause the film at just the right moment. “C’mon, hon. Tell me now you don’t see it,” you say as he looks between the phone and the screen.

“Sure, he’s a handsome bloke—and I know you think I’m quite dishy—but believe me when I say there is no resemblance between us,” Steven persists with a soft smile. “Marc and Jake say they don’t see it either. We look different and sound different.”

You cheekily shake your head and roll your eyes, clicking the play button on the remote and snuggling down on Steven’s chest. “Whatever you handsome men say,” you breathe, tossing some more popcorn in your mouth. “Whatever you say.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother

Marc Spector/Steven Grant Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @later-gators12

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villainousshakespeare · 1 year

Text

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 28

“Loki/OFC Rated E: Trigger Warnings: Smut, Sex, Oral Sex, Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control, touch starved, drinking, memory loss.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos @just-the-hiddles-reads @alwida10 @justjoanne242 @chantsdemarins @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokiprompts @evieplease @unlucky-number-13 @bitchassbecky691 @georges-left-ear @mischief2sarawr

The Norns knew that Loki's patience had been tested over the years. After all, he had grown up with Thor. He liked to think that he was perfectly capable of calmly waiting for the pieces to fall into place as others struggled to catch up to realizations he had already come to long before.

That said, if Caroline and his parents did not soon join them, he was fully prepared to storm his mother's sitting room and drag them all out.

"You can pace if you like, it makes no difference to me."

Loki glared over to where the ancient Healer was sitting. He could not deny that he longed to do just as she suggested and wear a rut in the highly polished marble floor, but he refused to give in to the temptation. Not that he was fooling her or himself, of course. Between his fingers drumming on the arms of his chair and constantly adjusting the position of his legs, Loki was as fidgety as wolf pup in thunder storm.

"I am fine, thank you," was all he said, grinding his teeth when the woman gave him a look that clearly said she knew he was lying.

At least in the beginning he had been distracted as Eir rooted around in his head. The sensation had not been physically unpleasant, but Loki was far from comfortable with sharing the secrets of his mind with anyone. The woman had made small noises as she prodded with her seidr, causing odd surges of emotions he could not explain. At last, she had sighed and removed her hands from where they had been sunk into his hair.

"Not unworkable," was all she had said.

"Perhaps you could distract me," he suggested now, tilting back his heavy wooden chair to a dangerous angle. She had lived long enough, she must have stories.

"I thought that was the job of your little Midgardian girl," Eir replied.

"I did not mean... that is to say... I was not implying..."

"Relax, Princeling," Eir laughed, though not unkindly. "You are far too young for my taste."

"Just exactly how old are you?" he asked, words escaping before he could think better of them. Why did she put his so on the back foot? "Forgive me, that was unpolite of me."

"I am far too old to be offended by your asking," she said with a wave of her hand.

"Well then?" he prompted; curiosity roused.

"I don't really remember any longer," she told him with a shrug. "I have been a Healer since before Odin ascended to the throne."

"Implying you were once something else?"

"Oh, many things," she said vaguely.

"Such as?" really, could she not humor him and take his mind off of the fact that others were deciding his fate?

"A Valkyrie, for one."

"Truly?" Now that was interesting!

"You look surprised. I was not always old, you know. Yes, I was one of Bor's generals. For millennia I helped defend Asgard and its throne from all who sought to challenge it."

"From Valkyrie to Healer? That is quite a turn."

"Not as much as you might think. To take a life is easier than to save it, but to do either well requires a basis in the same basic knowledge. You must remember as well, Valkyries do not just give battle, they ferry the soles of the glorious dead to Valhalla. It is in itself a form of care for the wounded."

It made sense in a twisted sort of way. He could see it in her, too. The iron straight posture, the air of command, give her a winged horse and a Dragon Fang blade and Loki would not want to face her on the battlefield.

"So, what led to your change of heart?" he asked.

"Your grandfather declared war on the Jotunheim."

"I was told that Odin vanquished the Jotun," the Nine knew he had heard the story often enough.

"And so he did," Eir confirmed. "But that was hardly the first time the two realms went to war. Subjugation or extermination of the Frost Giants has a long history with the royal family."

"And what? You feared to face the cruel might of the Jotuns?"

"Why should I fear my own kin?"

"I beg your pardon?"

It was rare that something caught Loki completely off guard, but Eir's pronouncement, so calmly made, had his jaw dropping to the floor. He would have thought that she was jesting, but in his experience that was not in her nature. Yet she sat there so calm, returning his stare with an easy continence.

"It is not as though it was a secret," Eir shrugged. "My maternal grandmother Ygonda was a Jotun Princess. You need not look so horrified, Princeling. Such things were much more common back in the early days. My grandfather was an ambassador to the Jotunheim; we had still had diplomatic relations at the time. The story goes that one look at Ygonda and he was hopelessly besotted. It took some time, and from what I understand an intensive series of vocal lessons, but in the end, he wooed and won the Ice Princess."

"But they are so savage -"

"Asgardian propaganda," Eir waved away his characterization. "I lived with the Jotuns for quite some time in my younger days."

"You did?" even the possibility of such a thing was inconceivable in the world they lived in now.

"It was when I was in training to become a Valkyrie. I had mastered Asgardian methods of fighting, but that alone was not enough to be selected for their exalted ranks. I was a quarter Jotun, and my grandmother had long since returned to her homeland. While her marriage had been passionate, she never felt quite at home here. Our people can be less then welcoming to those who are different, even if they are royalty. I reached out to Ygonda and she was happy to welcome me into her home."

"What was it like?" Loki was fascinated.

"Strange at first, but I adapted quickly. My focus was on battle and fighting techniques, of course. I was not as large as they were, of course, but I was fast. They taught me how to fight with the spears they prefer, and how to over awe your enemy. On top of that, I was enthralled by their healing magic. It was the first time I had ever dabbled in the restorative arts, and I loved the challenge it provided, a battle of its own you might say."

"I never even suspected," Loki shook his head as he stared at her.

"It is not something I advertise these days, relations between the two realms being what they were. When I was forced to choose sides, I realized that as much as I loved my Jotun family, my home was on Asgard. That being said, I am aware of how small-minded our people can be. Asgardians are proud, and not quick to be welcoming to anyone seen as different."

Loki knew firsthand how true that could be. He was a Prince of the Realm and yet he had never felt welcomed by his people. How much harder must it have been for someone of another race all together?

He took a long, hard look at Eir now. She had always seemed a giant to him, if not in the literal sense. There was a slight bluish tint to her skin, and if he looked for it, he could just make out raised lines on her forehead. A Frost Giant, here among the Gods on Asgard? He never would have thought it possible.

A wave of vertigo swept through him, causing him to lower his head into his hands.

"Prince Loki, are you quite well?" she asked.

"Fine," he said shortly. "But the sooner we fix whatever it is that is wrong with my memory, the happier I will be."

"I hope you are correct," she said. After a moment, she added "If, when we are finished with your procedure, you find yourself in need of a friendly ear, my office is always open to you."

"Why?" he asked, taken aback.

"I have always thought you were worth more than most of the youth of Asgard," she told him. "In a few millennia, you might even make a competent healer."

From anyone else he would have been offended, but he was aware enough to realize that for Eir this was the height of flattery.

"I will keep that in mind," he said with a nod. "If I don't go mad waiting for the others to join us."

"I forget sometimes what it is like to be young," she said with a sigh. "I am extremely glad I am past those days."

Loki almost wished that he was past them as well. Giving up his best intentions, he pushed himself from the chair. Eir had opened herself up to him, he no longer felt the need to hide his own feelings. Pushing his hair back from his high forehead, he began to pace the bounds of the room.

***

"Finally!"

Caroline had barely stepped in the room when Loki pounced at them. He had been on his feet, and from the looks of him he was about to tear the room apart. He walked towards her now, claiming her hands and bringing them to his lips to kiss her knuckles. Oh, she was a sucker for that!

"Sorry it took so long," she said, voice sounding a bit flustered even from that relatively innocent contact.

"Well?" he demanded, looking from her to where his parents stood tall beside her.

"I do not like this," Odin pronounced, as usual speaking louder than room required. She was beginning to see where Thor's way of speaking came from. "In my view of things, this loss of memory is a blessing. If you have indeed been tortured as this woman has led us to believe, why would you wish to recall such a thing?"

"I believe I can blur the worst of his pain," Eir spoke before Loki could form an answer.

Caroline was glad for the Healer's intervention. She had used everything she could think of to persuade the God, but Odin had been reluctant at best to go along with the path everyone else saw as the obvious choice. Finally, with Frigga's help, she had gotten him to the point where he agreed to allow Loki and Eir to decide. She only hoped he would stick with that decision long enough for the procedure to take place.

"What do you have in mind?" Frigga asked, looping her hand through her husband's arm.

"Now that I know that the Mind Stone was the cause of much of his torment, I can filter through his thoughts looking for its signature overriding his own brain pathways. Once I have that time period isolated, I can completely remove the block we placed on either side of it."

"I want to remember all of it," Loki insisted stubbornly.

"I am getting to that," Eir told him. "With your mother's help, I believe I can lift the mental block while leaving the emotional dampening in place. This will allow the prince to recall the facts of his past without the hurt he suffered."

"That sounds ideal!" Caroline beamed at the old Goddess.

"Excellent, let's do that then. When do we start?" Loki asked, eagerness written all over him.

"Not in the middle of the night," Frigga admonished him.

"We are all here now," Loki protested.

"I am not going to perform, or even assist on, work on my son's brain at anything less than one hundred percent. You will also want to be at your strongest, fully rested, for the procedure. I suggest we all get as much rest as remains this night and meet in Eir's offices tomorrow at midday."

"That is acceptable," Eir nodded. "Your Majesties, Princeling, I bid you goodnight."

Caroline tried not to be offended that she was completely left out of the woman's farewells. After all, she was hardly royalty. Still, she was hopeful that Loki would not want to linger here once he was back in possession of his memories. Assuming, of course, that he still wanted to remain with her at that point.

"You will think carefully about this, Loki," Odin instructed, glaring at his son. "There is still time to change your mind."

"My mind is set."

"Why don't you go get some sleep," Frigga suggested again, clearly wanting to hold off any impending arguments.

"Very well," Loki sighed, offering her is arm. "Caroline?"

"Hold!" Odin snapped. "You will not bring that woman back to your chambers."

"You can't be serious!" Loki bristled.

"This is the Royal Palace of Asgard, not a village tavern. She has no place here. Your mother can find her a bed in the servant's hall."

"Odin," Frigga pleaded.

"Caroline is not a servant," Loki insisted. "She is my intended."

Well, that was news to Caroline! And to Loki's true self, if it came down to it. Yes, he cared for her, but they had hardly had time to discuss anything of any permanence. Despite all of these mental protestations, Caroline could not help the thrill that passed through her as he spoke the hot, possessive words.

"She is no such thing! Such an idea is the height of lunacy. A phoenix does not mate with a moth after all."

"I love her, father."

"You don't even know her!"

"Even still."

"Loki, it is alright," Caroline said, swallowing a lump in her throat.

As angry as she was at Odin's treatment of her, she did not want to antagonize him to the point where he changed his mind on Loki's procedure. They just had to get his memories restored, and then they could escape from Asgard and Loki's tyrant of a father.

"It is not alright. I will not have you disrespected."

"Perhaps a compromise," Frigga once more attempted to play peacemaker. "Caroline is a guest, and as such I agree with Loki that it would not be suitable to lodge her with the servants. However, Loki needs all the rest he can get. I will therefore have a guest chamber prepared for her. It should not take more than a few moments."

"I will sleep better with her beside me."

Caroline loved the intention behind his declaration, but she knew that in this case it might actually not be true. It had been hard enough to keep him at arm's length earlier, if they spent all night (or what remained of it) pressed against each other, how long until her resistance gave way, and she threw herself on top of him?

"As much as I want to be there," she said, looking up into his eyes, "your mother is right. When I am next in your arms, I do not intend for either of us to get any rest at all."

It was a bold statement, particularly spoken as it was in front of his very disapproving father, but Caroline knew her Prince. A heat kindled in his eyes and she felt his pulse quicken to match hers. She could not be sure, but she almost thought she heard a rumbling noise like a growl deep in his chest.

"Very well," he said at last. "I expect the room that she is given to be suitable for one of the highest rank."

"Of course," Frigga agreed quickly. "Caroline, if you come with me, I will escort you."

Caroline gave a small gasp as, ignoring his mother for the moment, Loki pulled her into his arms. His kiss was slow, long, and hot, promising all sorts of things that she could not wait to collect on. Part way through, she vaguely heard Odin snort and storm out of the room, but she could barely be bothered to notice, so consumed was she with Loki's embrace.

"You have made your point, and he is gone," Frigga said at last.

Caroline sighed with regret as Loki pulled back at last placing one last chaste kiss to her nose.

"That was not to make a point," Loki spoke in a raspy voice, eyes locked with Caroline's. "That was to make a promise. Sleep well, my love. It will be your last alone.

For those interested, I did some research on Eir before writing this chapter. It turns out that in myths she is referenced at different points as being a Valkyrie and being Jotun. This seemed such a wonderful opportunity for this story, I just had to give her this history here.

#Loki #Loki/OFC #Loki Fan Fic #Romance #Tom Hiddleston #Post Avengers 1 #memory loss #therapy #Odin's A+ parenting #Frigga #Odin is an ass #Eir

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jobean12-blog · 4 months

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The Best First Date

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 638

Summary: You're on your first official first date with Bucky and he has you flustered in the best way.

Author's Note: This is just a little somethin' because I've missed writing this past week with all the Holiday insanity. Also. I LOVE HANDS and hand holding and smiles. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff

Bucky reaches down and grabs your hand, pulling you forward. It isn’t a simple grab. One where he wraps his fingers around yours and simply tugs. Instead, he intertwines your fingers with his and smiles back at you.

His eyes crinkle at the corners and the bright blue color sparkles.

Your heart beats wildly against your chest.

When you reach the table and he takes his hand from yours to pull out your chair, it literally makes you ache.

You scoot your chair in and wait until he sits then your eyes drop down to his hand…the one that just held yours.

“What doll?” he asks.

His question pulls you from your trance and you meet his eyes. His head is tilted to the side and he stares intently.

“What?” you ask in return, feigning ignorance.

He leans back and folds his arms across his broad chest. His biceps bulge under the restricting material of his Henley and you can’t help but stare back.

“I was just wondering what you were thinkin.’ You were looking at my hands like you wanted to cut them off.”

His metal fingers twitch along his flexing bicep muscle and you lick your lips.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks but you keep your chin up.

“I was just thinking…” you reply.

“That’s what I said,” he teases. “But I wanna know what you were thinkin’ about.��

“I didn’t realize you were this nosy.”

He smiles again. “Well when it comes to the safety of my limbs…” and he wiggles his metal fingers at you playfully, “yeah. I am.”

You giggle, pressing your hands against your thighs to stop yourself from reaching across the table and for his hand again…right or left.

“Well, I definitely wasn’t thinking I wanted to cut off any body parts…if that makes you feel any better.”

He continues to study you. “Tell me doll face.”

“Someone is pushy,” you fire back before picking up the menu and holding it in front of your face.

His long and thick fingers slide over the top of the menu and he pulls it down.

You sigh dramatically.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward, dancing his fingers closer.

“Should I not have held your hand doll? Did it bother you?”

“It definitely didn’t bother me,” you answer far too quickly.

You pull your gaze away and pick up the menu again.

You can still feel his fingers laced with yours, the rough skin of his palm and fingertips pressed against yours. The tingle that started in your hand has now covered every inch of you and your entire body trembles.

“Fine then. Don’t tell.”

He shoots you a smile that’s on the verge of seductive. Maybe even a little smug.

You catch yourself staring at his lips for a second too long and his smile widens.

“Don’t smile at me like that,” you huff.

“So no smiling and no holding hands?” he asks with raised brows. “That doesn’t sound like a very good first date.”

You purse your lips and take a deep breath.

“I like it way too much when you hold my hand and smile at me,” you say quietly but with a frustrated tone.

Your eyes drop back to the menu and you scream internally, his silence making you want to slide under the table and disappear.

The scrape of his chair along the floor makes your gaze fly up as you see him moving around the table until he’s closer to you.

His hand reaches out for yours and he entangles your fingers with his, softly brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

He smiles.

Your heart stops.

“I’d sit right next to ya doll but then I wouldn’t be able to see your face so well and you’re way too gorgeous not to look at.”

@randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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lokidmyheart · 9 months

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Just Imagine...

Dreams being invaded by shouting. A sense of unease. Groggily you awaken with a thought on the edge of sleep (..in my head...).

With a sensation of your weight being pulled towards the middle of the bed, you roll over to find Loki sitting up, head (oh...darling) in his hands.

Smoothing hair behind his ear, you put your chin on his shoulder; notice (...my love..) he's been sweating.

Loki starts to tap his forehead. You lower his hand gently to no resistance. Lovingly, you kiss his head, his neck, the curve between his nose (..mmm..your favorite) and cheek. He pulls you back with him to lay on his chest. Muscles relax, but his heart still races.

"I can never be free of the choices I made," he sighs, "or choices I may still make. This--with you--at peace, whole--" He pauses to kiss your hand. "I deserve this. I have a good soul and everything is right. We are settled--even in this chaotic life--but my mind brings back nightmares."

Drawing circles on his chest with your fingers, you reaffirm, "Love, they are nightmares now. Dreams. You can do with them what you will."

And Loki took those words to sleep with him, this one and many nights after.

Beans: @ajokeformur-ray @blue-automne @drakesfiance @friska101cg @just-the-hiddles @lady-loki-ren @lokiloveforever @lokipascal @lokiperfection @lokismistressofmayhem @lonely–witch @markusstraya @marvelouslytrekking @moonfaery @mrfeenysmustache @musingsofafangirl-blog @ohhhmyloki @omgopalsapphire @pan-pixie @river-the-fox @sallymagnoliaposts @saratour @sherlockfan4life @sebastianshoe @secretlygrantaire @storm-howlett @tea-with-loki @tfwqueenidjit @wester-than-west @venusbustos

#lokidmyheart #loki'd my heart #loki #tom hiddleston #marvel loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #reader imagine #snuggles #loki fluff #my original work #just imagine #my love #always

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ladycamillewrites · 1 year

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hiii my friendsss ♡♡

It’s fictive-sl0th here 👋🏼

Welcome to my second blog where I’ll be writing for other TH characters than Loki !! If you’re interested in the men shown in my header stay tuned for little projects ; )

▪️ Opening event here ▪️

The first bigger project will be a hiddles drama / love series with the amazing @holdmytesseract so let’s take a first little peak on...

“Against the odds”...

“But still. I‘ll call you darling“ Tom winked, the steel blue eyes sending a flirty letter that made your knees go jelly. Good thing you were seated because you were a sucker for his charm, especially after three years of dull picture-perfect play pretend with Nate.

“Well, without you playing along it would have been shitty” you quipped nervously, the scent of his cologne invading your nostrils like a wildfire. Tom was the perfect charming villain who would surely make millions of woman fall for Alexander Kray in an instant.

“Well, erm it’s about your ex” Liam whispered carefully but it was hard either way. Your heart dropped, fingers digging in the soft fabric of your tote bag.

SOON HERE and on @holdmytesseract ❤︎

—> taglist open

#writer #ficitve-sl0th second #hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #holdmytesseract #smut #Drama #love #Angst #thomas sharpe #james conrad #jonathan pine #robert laing #fanfic writing #hiddlestoners

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inevitably-johnlocked · 1 year

Note

HII!

I wanted to know if you could recommend some very nice Top John fics with plots? Looking forward to your response.

Thank you for all you do for the Fandom. Very grateful. Have a lovely day/night!

Hi Lovely!

Oh gosh, you're far too kind!

I actually have quite a few fics, but I'm also going to use your ask to post my Pt 3 list of Bottomlock fics, so I hope you don't mind. To get the longer, more plotty fics, please start at the bottom of this and all the suggested See Also lists, and work your way up them. Since I put my lists in word-count order, the longer, more plotty ones will be near the bottom <3

I hope you enjoy, and if anyone has something new to add, please do! <3

BOTTOMLOCK Pt. 3