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five-miles-over · 1 year

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Little Darling

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Living with the God of Mischief in London comes with finding many surprises, and one of those surprises happens to be a four-year-old named Tom Hiddleston.

Word Count: 4,092

Warnings: a few swearing instances, established roommate relationship, but mostly fluff

No one had ever said that living with the God of Mischief would be easy, let alone boring. Sometimes, you'd come home to your shared two-bedroom flat in London and find the entire living room filled with stray cats, one of whom wore a name tag that said 'Hel'. One time, you woke up to hear neighing in the bedroom only to hear your Asgardian flatmate staunchly deny the existence of a horse within the premises. There was also the time when you found your Tupperware lids changed from red to green; that was one of the most tame incidents since you started living with Loki. Then there was the time when you found Loki sitting inside the kitchen shoveling spoonfuls of strawberry cheesecake Ben and Jerry's into his mouth while the radio played Elton John's version of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight". The morning after that, you found the flat perfectly immaculate - the floors sparkling clean, the sink clear of all dirty dishes, the carpet free of coffee stains, and a bouquet of freshly-cut flowers on the kitchen table. You swore he used some of his powers to do the job, but still thanked your flatmate while he smirked like he held the world in the palm of his hand.

And in today's case, you woke up to find the strawberry jam completely empty after you had just bought a new jar two days ago. If it hadn't been for your roommate giving you the silent treatment until you agreed, you wouldn't bothered to set foot inside a Waitrose on a Thursday evening. It had already been a long day, too demanding. All you wanted to do was come home, eat some ice cream before Loki can finish it all, and then binge-watch one of your favorite shows.

You placed your bags of groceries in front of your apartment, reaching for your keys. When you opened the door, the flat was completely silent even though the lights were on. "Loki?" You called his name a few more times, locking the door behind you. Maybe he was out with his brother, or indulging in some mischief that may or may not end with him being punished by the local magistrate or worse, Asgardian justice. With a sigh, you wandered towards a new book cast on the coffee table.

'Norse Mythology' by Neil Gaiman…what could Loki possibly be doing with this book? Fact-checking himself?You wouldn't have given it a second thought, but there was a black leather wallet next to the book. It couldn't have been Loki's because well, Loki's wallet would've been enchanted with some spell that caused it to self-destruct whenever you or anyone other than Loki himself picked it up. You knew it was wrong to snoop, but assuming that this was a stolen wallet, you figured that you might as well open it anyways. If you knew whom it belonged to, you could call them and return it.

Inside the wallet were a few debit and credit cards, a twenty-pound note, something small related to UNICEF, a supermarket membership, and…a business card with the telephone number of a London talent agency. You raised your eyebrow only to drop your jaw when a small photograph came between your fingers. It was a photograph of a familiar man with sky blue eyes, defined cheekbones, and short curls that were a mixture of ginger and Golden Retriever blond. He was sitting next to an elderly woman with white hair and a genuine smile - his mother perhaps? Never mind that, Loki really messed up this time.

You slammed the wallet onto the table and anxiously looked around the rest of the living room. The cushions were ripped into shreds, the sofa covered in feathers and cotton pieces. In the center of the carpet, there were strands of what could only be pet hair and a small pair of grey boots that Loki would never be caught dead wearing. "Loki? What the fu-"

"Mister Loki's not here!" The voice of a little boy could be heard from the kitchen.

You turned your head almost immediately. There's a child inside the house? Did Loki have a son you didn't know about or something? Is that child even Loki's? Tightly gripping the bags from Waitrose in one hand, you made your way into the kitchen.

At the center of the small, round dining table sat a small boy with blonde tufts of hair parted in the middle, almost giving a small curtain-like effect on his forehead. He wore a navy blue jumper and pinstripe pants, swinging his legs underneath the table. Lost in his own little world, the little boy played with a stuffed brown dog.

"Hello…" You greeted the child and slowly opened the refrigerator door.

He looked up. "Hello!"

The first of the groceries that needed to be put away was the ice cream. Along with the jam that Loki asked for, you bought two pints of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, some French cheese, a loaf of bread, and a stash of Cadbury bars in various flavors.

"Who're you, miss?" The boy chirped, still holding the stuffed dog.

You told him your name while putting the rest of the groceries in their proper place. "I live here." As proof, you reached into your pocket and showed him your key. "What's your name?"

"I'm Tom," he brightly introduced himself.

"It's very nice to meet you, Tom." You pointed to toy in his hands. "And who is that? Is that your little doggie?"

"Yeah, his name is Bobby!" Tom places the stuffed animal on the table. "You can pet him."

"Does he like to be petted?" Sitting across from him at the table with one of the Cadbury bars while Tom enthusiastically nodded, you gently stroked the dog's tiny head. You bit the inside of your cheek before asking your next question. You just had to know, your gut instinct was telling you to.

"Tom…" You folded your hands and leaned slightly forward. "What's your last name? You know, most people have a first name and a last name. Tom is your first name. What's your last name? Tom…"

"Tom Hiddleston."

You gulped, slowly unwrapping the Cadbury bar. Okay, now there might be a bigger problem than the stolen wallet. The real Tom Hiddleston had to be in his thirties or something, at least according to your knowledge. How did this kid have the same name? More importantly, how did he end up in yours and Loki's apartment and what is he doing here?

"Tom Hiddleston," you repeated to yourself before breaking a piece of the Cadbury bar and putting it inside your mouth. Then, you offered the bar to the boy. Letting the chocolate melt inside your mouth, you watched as he broke off a piece for himself and ate it. "Do you like chocolate?"

"Yeah!"

"I love chocolate. Do you know who Mister Loki is?" You broke off another piece of the Cadbury bar.

Tom nodded, "He's a god."

"Yes, what kind of god?"

"He's a funny god!" Tom giggles, "He likes playing pranks!"

You couldn't help but laugh too. "Yes, he does like to play pranks. What about you, do you like pranks, Tom?"

"They're funny."

"Yeah, I think so too." Only sometimes, you thought to yourself. Just then, your phone vibrated and you excused yourself to go answer it.

Loki's voice came through the other end. "Ah, it's you. Are you home, pet?"

Your smile disappeared in an instant. "Loki, you have a lot of explaining to do," you snapped, furrowing your eyebrows. "There is a four-year-old sitting in our kitchen, and he says his name is Tom Hiddleston. Also, why the hell did you steal someone's wallet?!"

"Is he cute?"

"Loki, I swear to -"

"You adore him," Loki teased.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair. "Yes, but Loki… Look, I'm going to call the police as soon as this phone call is over, so they can return this wallet to the rightful owner."

"Or you could just give it to the boy. He won't know about half the things inside it."

"Loki!"

"It's his wallet anyway."

"What?" You winced, needing to take another breath. "Loki, you're crazy."

"He deserved it," Loki nonchalantly retorted.

Slumping onto the sofa, which was still covered in pillow feathers, you held the mobile phone to your ear. "Explain," you demanded. From the corner of your eye, you could see little Tom feeding himself another piece of chocolate.

"I was having a morning stroll in the park after you'd left for the day, and I came across this man named Tom while he walking his dog. He asked over and over again if I was the God of Mischief, and kept asking all these questions, including if I was familiar with some company called "Marvel"," Loki explained in an exasperated tone. "Then, his dog jumped on my leg and barked incessantly."

"And then?"

"Then he introduced himself to me, gave me a suffocating hug, apologized for the hug, and asked so many questions about where I was living and what I was doing in London. It was like talking to an exuberant child."

Your eyes widened like saucers. "So you turned him into one?!"

"More or less."

"And that was his wallet and his book on the table? Loki…" You groaned, rubbing your forehead. "Change him back. Please."

"Oh, how I love it when you beg, my pet," Loki snickered before sarcastically replying, "I'm totally convinced."

"Ugh! Could you at least give me Doctor Strange's number or something?!" You inquired, knowing the breaking news that would flood the internet if anyone found out that an internationally-renowned actor was transformed into an innocent four-year-old. "He needs to be changed back into an adult."

On the other side, Loki merely laughed. "No need - I assure you Doctor Strange has the appearance and the behavior of an adult."

"Fuck you!"

"Careful," Loki playfully reminded you. "No bad language in front of the children."

"You're taking care of dinner for three tonight. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear."

As soon as Loki ended the call, you put your phone aside and returned to the kitchen.

The little one looked so sweet, playing with the dog and singing to himself. Forgetting about the police and the wallet, you sat across from him and took a piece of chocolate.

"Tom?" You gently called, getting his attention. "Tom, Mister Loki will be coming home soon, alright? In the mean time…perhaps we can talk. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure." Tom nodded, looking up at you with a sweet smile. "You're really pretty."

"Thank you, Tom. You're very sweet." You tilted your head to the side ever-so-slightly. Since it was just the two of you in the kitchen, perhaps you could find a way to while away the time until Loki showed up. "Do you like to listen to music?"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah? Well, maybe I can turn on the radio and we can listen to some music. Would you like that?"

"Okay." Tom climbed out of the chair, following you as you approached the radio sitting on the kitchen counter. You flicked a switch and turned a knob as it adjusted to a station playing 80's pop. Perhaps your darling little guest might know one of those tunes.

"She's been living in her uptown world.," the voice of Billy Joel emanated from the little radio. "I bet she's never had a back-street guy. I bet her momma never told her why.

I'm gonna try for an uptown girl…"

"Oh! This is one of my favorites!" You gushed, shimmying your shoulders in time with the music and smiling.

"She's been living in her white-bred world

as long as anyone with hot blood can.

And now she's looking for a downtown man.

That's what I am."

Tom called your name and tapped your wrist. Turning around, you found the little boy standing in the middle of the kitchen. "Watch this," Tom said before doing a pirouette, just like the dancer Wayne Sleep did when he performed this song with Princess Diana in December of 1985. The little boy spun around on one foot a second time before finishing with a dramatic bow.

You laughed with appreciation and clapped. "Bravo!"

"Come dance with me, Miss. Please?" Tom looked up at you with puppy dog eyes.

"I would be delighted." Taking Tom's little hands in yours, you couldn't stop smiling as the two of you danced in the kitchen to the rest of the song, moving your shoulders and hips. Meanwhile, Tom couldn't stop giggling, looking up at you as if you were the only lady in the world and dancing with you was a dream come true. At one point, you lifted your arm up and twirled the little boy as gracefully as possible, causing him to blush.

"My uptown girl.

You know I'm in love

With an uptown girl"

"What's going on here?" Loki smirked, amused by finding the two of you dancing as the song came to an end. He placed six boxes of Chinese takeaway onto the dining table before helping himself to the Cadbury bar laying around. "Have you been missing me?"

"Mister Loki, you're here!" Tom promptly rushed to hug him, throwing his arms around Loki's legs.

"Oh, get off, you exuberant little-" Loki was about to push the child away before he caught a glimpse of you giving him a little scowl. The God of mischief relented, patting the little boy on the back with a small smile. "Let's eat?"

You nodded. "Tom, wash your hands please?" You directed him to the bathroom, and watched him dawdle. The radio was now playing "What's Love Got to Do With It" by Tina Turner, a song you hadn't heard in years.

"You adore him," Loki teased you again while the two of you set the table with plates, forks, and cups.

You shook your head, warming the food in the microwave. "He's fun to be around, I'll admit it. By the way, thank you for choosing the fried rice and not getting the plain vegetables."

He winked at you. "I also remembered to bring two extra fortune cookies, just in case you don't like the fortune inside the one you eat first."

"Thank you."

"I believe now would be a perfect time for you to apologize for telling me to…what was it, my pet?" Loki goaded you. "Fuck me?"

"Huh?!" Right on cue, Tom pranced into the kitchen and sat down at the table. You snickered at Loki, and ruffled the little boy's hair. You and Loki sat on either side of Tom, and began to help yourselves to the egg rolls, fried rice, pan-fried broccoli with oyster sauce, and a kung pao dish.

You pointed out each dish to Tom, and invited him to try some. "Thank you, Mister Loki." Tom said in a sing-song voice before putting his fork into a piece of sauce-covered broccoli.

"You're very welcome, Tom." Loki almost beamed, unable to deny the joy he felt at the little boy's words. The two of you exchanged a smile while all of you continued eating.

"Mister Loki?" Tom piped up after some time. "Do you dance?"

"Tom, I'm a god," he reminded the boy. "I don't indulge in such trivial things."

Tom proudly told Loki about how the two of you danced in the kitchen, how he showed off his ability to pirouette, and how he held your hands. "You should dance too, Mister Loki!"

"Do you like her?" Loki mischievously asked the boy about you.

"Yeah!"

Loki and you chuckled. "So do I," he told the boy.

Tom cheekily grinned, holding an egg roll in his fingers. "You fancy her?"

The God of Mischief sharply denied, fighting the warmth flooding his cheeks. "Hang on just a second -"

It was Tom's turn to laugh, his blue eyes sparkling with joy. His laughter rang through the kitchen, like a bird singing for all to hear.

"Tom," you ate a spoonful of fried rice, "what should a person do if they fancy someone? Let's say a man fancies a lady, what should he do?"

Tom shifted in his seat for a moment. "Uh…" He took a bite of his egg roll, chewed, and swallowed. "Uh…he should say 'you're…you're," Tom slowly answers, trying to find the right word, "you're beautiful, and…I fancy you."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

You turned to Loki and smiled before looking at Tom. "That's a very good answer, Tom. Good job."

"And do you fancy Mister Loki?"

Loki grinned mischievously as he waited for your answer.

You took a deep breath. "Well…I do like Mister Loki very much. He is funny…he is a smart god, as you probably know."

"And is he handsome?" Loki interjects.

Shaking your head, you scrunched your nose for a moment. "He can be, when he isn't being such a pain."

Tom laughed some more. "You fancy Mister Loki!"

"Tom, eat your food. Don't forget about the veggies."

"Don't forget about veggies," Tom mimicked you, earning a laugh from Loki.

Once the three of you had finished eating, Tom asked if he could help you with the dishes. "Of course, Tom." You brought a chair close to the sink for the boy to use as a step stool. Nodding his head along with the music from the radio, Tom rinsed the soap from the dishes after you scrubbed the leftover food and grime off of them.

"You've been very helpful, Tom. Thank you." You ruffled his hair again when he put the last plate in the drying rack. "Would you like some ice cream as a reward?"

"Yes, please!"

You retrieved one of the pints from the freezer, and put three scoops into bowl for Tom. He gleefully thanked you with the same sing-song voice and strolled into the living room while eating.

Following Tom into the living room, you were surprised to find the living room in perfect condition. The feathers from earlier today were gone, the carpet was free of hair, and the grey boots - presumably Tom's - were neatly tucked into a corner.

Loki walked into the living room, carrying a stack of folded bedsheets. He knelt before the sofa and began to arrange them into a makeshift bed. "He can sleep on the couch tonight," the God of Mischief commented, placing Tom's stuffed dog Bobby onto the blankets.

"Thank you, Mister Loki!" For the second time that night, Tom hugged Loki. But this time, Loki hugged him back, holding the boy in his arms for at least a minute.

"You're welcome. Now go with her and get ready for sleep."

Giving Loki a "thank you", you led Tom away and gave him a spare toothbrush to use for the night. You stood next to him in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth while he brushed his. He even gargled a tiny cup of mouthwash and promptly spit it into the sink.

Loki watched from a distance, unbeknownst to both of you. He admired the way you interacted with Tom, making the little boy feel welcome the same way that you made him feel welcome when he was assigned by Stark Industries to live with you for the first time.

He reminisced about the first month that he was living with you. Loki thought about the way you helped him use the shower head, teaching him which way to turn the faucet for hot water versus hot water. He remembered how patient you were when he fumbled with the stove and nearly burned his fingers while boiling a kettle of water. Then there was the time when he tried to warm an aluminum packet of Pop-Tarts in the microwave…You were not pleased by the smell in the kitchen, but nevertheless silenced the smoke alarm before the landlord found out. And then, you showed him how to remove the wrappers and warm the Pop Tarts properly, not-so-gently chastising him all the while.

Loki snickered to himself. He really did deserve that, and the fact that you were willing to call him out when necessary was one of the reasons he liked living with you. Perhaps…perhaps Tom was right. He did fancy you, maybe even more than what he imagined.

You wiped your mouth after brushing your teeth and walked with Tom into the living room. The four-year-old boy climbed onto the couch and snuggled underneath the blankets.

"Good night," Tom looked up at you and Loki.

Kneeling before the boy, you gently kissed his hair. "Good night, Tom." Loki turned off the lights in the living room, and you left to change into your pajamas.

After an hour, you meandered into the hallway to check on your little guest. While Tom peacefully slept and held his stuffed dog to his chest, you felt a pair of arms around your torso.

"You are very beautiful…and I fancy you," Loki whispered into your ear.

"Stop it," you giggled under your breath.

Loki held you closer. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"You need to change him back in the morning." You turned around and pointed a finger at him. "The paparazzi will find out about this."

"I've got everything under control," Loki assured you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "And when this is all over…maybe I'll bring another little one home?"

"Loki!"

"Fine, I'll just make one."

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner and turned around. "Good night, Loki."

"Wait!" Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his arms for a moment. Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours. You melted into the kiss almost immediately, clasping his arms as he held you close. "I don't think I thanked you properly for today." He smirked.

"I think you already have…" You looked up at Loki, not sure if he was being genuine or just making a joke.

Loki tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I really fancy you," he confessed, murmuring your name with affection. "You're the kindest, most beautiful person that I've ever met on Midgard. You welcomed me into your life, you live with me even while knowing all of my history. Everyday you talk to me, indulge me in my games, and bring life into this place. Without you…living on Midgard would be like a prison. But with you, it feels close to paradise.

I know I don't make things easy for you, and sometimes I don't even know how you stand me. What I do know is…there's absolutely no one like you. And I fancy you more than anyone else. Do you…do you feel the same?"

"Loki…"

"Tell me," he softly insisted. All of the smugness from earlier had melted away, leaving nothing but a god who simply wanted to know if his affections were one-sided or not. "If you don't, then I'll forget everything I just told you, and we'll move on like nothing happened."

"And if I do?" You swallowed, your eyes meeting his. "What if I do fancy you, Loki Laufeyson of Asgard and Jotunheim?"

A warm smile spreads across Loki's face and he chuckles. "Do you…do you really?"

You replied matter-of-factly. "Sometimes that happens when you live with someone for six months, and catch them eating ice cream while crying to love songs."

"You tease," he snickered before kissing your lips again. Loki pressed his forehead against yours and held you, enjoying the moment to the fullest.

After what felt like several moments, you stroked Loki's cheekbone. "We should probably head to bed. It's late…and Tom might wake up."

Loki sighed, releasing you from his embrace. The two of you exchanged a "good night" filled with mutual affection and moved towards your separate bedrooms.

BONUS SCENE

A few hours later, you were awoken by fits of giggles and loud screaming. What could possibly be going on now? Climbing out of bed, you turned on the lights and sauntered into the living room.

"Thomas!" You chided, standing at the doorway while Loki and the little boy threw fistfuls of feathers at each other, surrounded by newly-destroyed pillows. "Thomas, for heaven's sake, it's the middle of the night! Will you go to bed?"

Tagging: @smolvenger @lokiismineforever @lokischambermaid @lokiprompts21 @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @lady-rose-moon @holdmytesseract , @icytrickster17 , @thatdummy-girl , @cakesandtom , @turniptitaness , @winterfrostlovetriangle , @lady-rose-moon , @lokisninerealms , @muddyorbsblr , @123forgottherest

#tom hiddleston au #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston #thomas hiddleston #thomas william hiddleston #loki #loki god of mischief #marvel loki #loki odinson #loki x reader fluff #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki x y/n #mcu loki

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lady-rose-moon · 2 years

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My sweet Baronet

Summary: being married to Sir Thomas Sharpe had some... inconvenient setbacks but you are sure to worth through them with your husband.

Warnings: smut, mentioned incest, Lucille Sharpe, angst, mentions of grooming 🤢

A/N: come on, I love writing for Thomas, gimme a break!!

Allerdale was colder at night. You had to pull up the blankets to your chin to even feel a semblance of warmth. The house was falling apart and yet neither Thomas nor Lucille had paid for someone to repair it. You had offered to get the finest builders on the job but both had vehemently ordered that you not hire anyone. Then there were the ghosts that you kept seeing, they were always in your peripheral vision or disappeared just as you realised they were there.

Thomas had always insisted that the ghosts were just your imagination but you knew that you saw them and you could see in your husband’s eye that he believed you. On the subject of your husband, he was once again not in your bed tonight. It was saddening that you were becoming used to being alone in the King sized bed when you fell asleep and awoke.

You were fully awake tonight and decided that you would explore the crumbling mansion with your candelabra, the stray dog at your feet. Your bare feet pattered against the rotting floorboards as you walked along the floor that you were on. Thomas’s grand bedroom seemed to take up most of the floor but the other side was unfurnished as if all the furniture had been sold because of lack of use.

Something urged you up the stairs, the hairs on your arm rising as you came up into the attic, hearing the soft song of a woman; Lucille. Dread pooled in your stomach as you edged closer to Lucille’s bedroom door and when you turned the knob and the door swung open, you were greeted with the sight of Lucille on Thomas’s lap, her hand down the front of his trousers and his mouth locked on her neck.

You were so tempted to say something but before they could register that you had been there, you had closed the door again and swept down the stairs back into Thomas’s spacious bedroom.

You began to pace the floor as you nibbled on one of your nails. They slept together. They loved each other. Thomas doesn’t love you. The recording tubes that you listened to, the photo of a baby, you realised now that the baby wasn’t Thomas’s with Enola, it was Lucille’s baby.

Nausea rose in your throat but you swallowed it down as you moved to sit on the windowsill and watch the snow fall. You were in a one-sided marriage. You loved Thomas more than anything, he had been there for you endlessly when your brother died, leaving you the heir to your family's fortune.

You didn’t realise how long you were sitting on the sill until a soft pair of lips pressed to your forehead. Your eyes shifted from the freshly fallen snow to the alluring blue of your husband's eye, the eyes that had only been for Lucille all this time.

“How long?” you whispered, feeling your husband falter in his stance, staring at you with a look of confusion.

“How long, what, my darling?” Thomas whispered, sitting on the sill in front of you, a frown playing at his lips when he saw how distraught you looked and he noted how you looked as if you hadn’t gotten a speck of sleep last night.

You scoffed and looked back out of the window to the fallen snow, wishing you were as free as the snowflakes elegantly falling from the clouds. Instead, you felt like a wealthy caged bird inside the crumbling mansion belonging to your husband and his sister/mistress. “How long have you been fucking Lucille, Thomas?” you spat, meeting his gaze head on and you watched his eyes widen comically and his breath hitch, “how long?!”

Thomas released a breathy chuckle and stood from the sill, knowing you still had your eyes on him as he walked to his wardrobe and pulled out the day’s outfit. “I have no idea what you are talking about, dearest, Lucille is my sister,” the Baronet returned eventually, buttoning his shirt and looking over at you, registering the cold look in your eye and flinching away from it.

“Don’t play with pretty words, Baronet,” you sneered, rising from your seat and ignoring the ache in your rear from sitting as you approached your cheater of a husband, “I saw you in the early hours of this morning, her hand down your pants, you openly appreciating her neck. Don’t bullshit me, Thomas.”

“Such words, my love!” Thomas protested, his brows furrowing with worry.

“The Gods will pardon my words to you, husband! Avoiding my question will only prolong my blasphemy! Admit it and God shall forgive,” you countered, your arms crossing over your nightgown as you held his gaze. You weren’t afraid of the man before you even though you knew he had the power to kill you with his bare hands.

Thomas lowered his head and sighed, tears forming in his oceanic eyes as he whispered, “since I was young.”

The words struck you immediately and you stared at your husband incredulously, “since… since you were how young, Thomas?”

“Since I was a boy,” the Baronet whispered, raising his head to meet yours as his eyes glimmered with confusion, “don’t tell me you and your brother didn’t…”

You realised his implication and you were sickened by it. Not him, never him, but you were sickened of Lucille for manipulating the Baronet into thinking that incest was the done thing when children were young. “God no!” you protested quickly, watching Thomas’s eyes widen in surprise, “that is wrong, Thomas, sex between siblings is so very wrong indeed!”

“But… Lucille said…” Thomas trailed off, his eyes becoming distant as tears formed again and dripped down his cheeks. “Lucille said that it was how I showed my love for her,” he whispered at last, watching your face fall.

You stepped closer to your husband and cupped his cheek, watching him instantly lean into the warmth of your palm. “This is love,” you whispered, watching as his eyes struggled to meet your own, “my love for you is the real love here. Lucille was manipulating you for her own gain. If she slept with you, lost her flower then she would never have to marry.”

Thomas tensed and shook his head quickly as tears brimmed in his beautiful eyes. You hated watching him cry. He rarely did but after a night of running experiments on his machine and failing to get it running, he would seek you out and rant until he was in tears. In a reflex that you knew you would never get rid of, you reached up and wiped away his tears, watching the muscles in his face relax as he leaned into the contact.

“What you have with her isn’t love,” you whispered, watching Thomas’s eyes flutter open to meet yours. You offered him a soft smile as you edged him backwards to the bed and smiled as he fell back onto the sheets, his eyes never leaving your own. “Let me show you what love is,” you pleaded, noticing how his breath hitched and felt as his cock took an interest.

You leaned your body down and began to pepper kisses down from behind his ear to the top of his half-buttoned shirt. The chest hair that was visible teased your lips as you pulled away.

“This isn’t love, either,” Thomas whispered, a frown playing on his thin lip.

“How can you be sure?” you whispered, your hand grazing over his trousers just enough for him to hiss from the contact. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me?” you questioned, fully prepared for his rejection. He loved Lucille. This was never to be.

Thomas hesitated before bringing your face to his gently and pressing a loving kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed and he followed quickly after. You quickly unbuttoned his shirt, your hands roaming over his chest and down his abdomen as you sat on his hips. The kiss was passionate and full of lust, unlike the sparse and quick pecks that he had given to you before.

Thomas was breathless beneath you as you both devoured the taste of each other. You had missed feeling this electric excitement when you were near him, he had been so distant lately that you felt as if you would soon fall out of love with him too. You pulled away from his lips and whispered a faint, “please don’t divorce me.”

Thomas’s eyes slowly opened and met your own quickly in confusion. “Divorce you?” he whispered brokenly, his soft hands climbing up your thighs on either side of his lap, “why, by God, would I do that?”

“To resume your tryst with Lucille,” you replied simply, disgust lacing your tone as you spoke but you watched as Thomas quickly shook his head and captured your lips in his again. This kiss was slow, trusting and understanding. Thomas needed you to know that he loved you, depended on your love for him, obsessed over seeing your smile, needy to feel your bare skin against his own.

“No,” he murmured against your lips, his hands continuing their journey exploring your clothed body before he pulled the sleeping gown from your body and admired the body beneath. “No, I would never continue my tryst with Lucille,” he continued, his eyes locked with yours as his hands hesitantly explored, “not after you have opened my eyes.”

The Baronet’s hands held your waist and flipped you over onto the mattress, his strong body leaning over you as he heaved breaths, his pupils dilated and the evident arousal pressing against his trousers. “I crave you, sweet one,” Thomas whispered, one of his hands roaming over your body, cupping your breast and gently playing with one of your nipples with his thumb, “I crave to know how it feels to bring you into womanhood, to watch your face contort in such beautiful expressions of pleasure, to hear you scream to Heaven above that I am your husband, that I am yours, as I always should have been.”

You nodded eagerly and he smirked as he lowered his lips onto yours once more. You sighed between his lips and bit back playfully, your chest pressing up against his own, now naked, torso. Your fingers slithered up the sides of his neck and your nails wrapped themselves in the beautiful curls that surrounded his head like a halo. You pulled away for breath but didn’t let anything more than a second pass before you captured his lips again, one of your hands disentangling from his hair to slide down to his trousers, aiding him in pulling them off.

Thomas groaned against your lips as he was now freed from the confinement of his pants. His hardened length was already swollen and red, greedily anticipating breaching you and claiming you. Before you could pull him closer, Thomas pulled himself from you and smirked as he whispered, “allow me to do something for us both, darling.”

You nodded shakily and watched as he left the bed, grabbed a cloth and covered the door handle and keyhole with it, nodding with satisfaction to himself before returning to you. Once he was back on top of you, he grabbed one of your legs and began to press open-mouthed kisses to your bare skin and he revelled in the way that you whined and arched up for him. He was so patient, so gentle, sucking marks into your skin all over and allowing you to feel so perfect.

“Are you ready?” he whispered gently, watching as your eyes met his and you nodded eagerly, your eyes fluttering shut when Thomas’s lips met yours. You had almost forgotten what was happening before you felt the hot tip of his cock press against your entrance and you whined into the kiss but Thomas pulled from your lips and pressed gentle kisses down your neck as he whispered, “it’s okay, I have you, baby,” and his cock gradually slipped inside.

Once he was fully seated inside you, Thomas threw his head back in pleasure and released a throaty groan. He wasn’t surprised at your tightness, he fully enjoyed your nervous whimper and gasps, craving for him to move with half of your body but the other half needed a wait. Thomas slowly eased out of you and kissed away the pained expression that drew your brow together before he slowly thrust forward and savoured your pleasure-filled moan.

Minutes passed with him performing these small motions, of you keening beneath him and your legs beginning to wrap around his middle before you were ready and his thrusts increased.

The feeling of his cock slowly increasing in speed made your heart flutter and electricity run throughout your body. You had needed this ever since you had first signed that marriage certificate.

“Thomas,” you whined against him as the raven-haired Baronet cradled your head and his hips increased in their speed, his cock continuing to fuck you so deliciously well. He felt so perfect inside you and you knew that you needed this immediately, you couldn’t go another day without this. “I love you, mmnn, I love you, husband,” you whispered, feeling his cock twitch inside you at your confession.

Thomas pulled back and studied your eyes, trying to find the lie but when he found nothing but love, trust and lust, he smiled and pressed his lips quickly to yours before pulling back and whispering, “I love you too.”

Groaning, he pulled out to the tip before sinking back in and listening to your delighted moan at the motion so he proceeded to do it again and again, increasing the pace until he was pounding into you and bringing out feral moans from the back of your throat.

Your hands left his hair to grip at the sheets beside your head as your filter for noise was destroyed by the intoxicating feel of his cock bruising your insides repeatedly. The Baronet had to be carved by a sulptor, you thought as pleasure filled your mind, he was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and yet he still looked utterly handsome.

Thomas’s hand fell to your eager clit and began to massage it slowly before gradually matching the pace to his thrusts, pushing you over the edge into utter oblivion. He didn’t leave you waiting long, however, as he came quickly behind you and moaned your name into the quiet air of the grand bedroom.

Silence reigned in the room as you both came down from your highs and as Thomas cleaned you up, pressing light kisses to your legs as he cleaned your cunt of any of his seed that leaked out and your natural juices.

When Thomas finally slipped into bed minutes later, you rolled over and draped your arm over his chest, your head fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. The sound of his heart pounding below his skin was oddly comforting and reassured you that he was your husband and you were his wife.

“Thomas?” you whispered into the dark, earning a drowsy hum in reply, “what do we do about your sister?”

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked, his head shifting so he could easily look down at your head on his shoulder.

Your cheeks flushed and you looked away from him, “well, she probably heard all of this, what do we do?”

“I don’t care,” Thomas replied, pulling you into another soft kiss before rolling on top of you and claiming your lips.

You eagerly accepted his kiss before his hand began to slip between your legs and you pulled away with a laugh, “Thomas, we just got clean!”

“Then I shall clean you again and again, my love, you shall never feel deprived of my love,” Thomas answered smugly, spreading kisses down your neck that turned your laughter into moans.

Just outside the door, Lucille Sharpe had planned 14,785,435 ways to kill you for stealing Thomas from her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

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#sir thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe #tom hiddleston #imagines #tom hiddleston smut #sexy baronet hours #thomas sharpe x reader #crimson peak imagine #crimson peak #thomas sharpe deserves better #thomas sharpe x female!reader

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lulubelle814 · 1 month

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Head's Up, Seven Up

I was tagged in this post by @colorsunimaginable

Tagging (no pressure): @lokischambermaid, @simplyholl, @ijuststareatstuffhereok89, @gigglingtiggerv2, @wheredafandomat, @holdmytesseract

Rules: Share seven recent lines/sentences/whatever of your choice from your WIP.

I don't have a name for this story yet.

“Are you Alice’s friend?” Jayne said, before he could turn to leave. “Yes! That’d be me. I’m Tom.” He smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Jayne.” She smiled back and shook his hand. “Come right in, Tom. You’re right on time. We were just getting started.”

She led him into the dinning room where everyone welcomed him. Alice jumped up to give him a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!” Turning around, she introduced him. “Tom, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Tom. He’s new to town.”

Everyone welcomed him. The only free spot was a corner seat across from Alice. Jayne sat at the other corner across the table. Looking at the delicious food, Tom dug right in. “I could smell this as soon as I got out of my car. It all looks amazing!” All those around the table heartily agreed. They loved coming whenever Jayne hosted. Not that the others were bad (except Harry who’d been banned from cooking for the group after the last disaster). They just preferred Jayne’s cooking.

“I’ve been eating takeaway for a week while I get my place set up,” said Tom. No one really liked moving, and unpacking seemed to take forever, especially since he seemed to have lost the boxes with his kitchen stuff. As much as he looked, those particular boxes never seemed to turn up.

#tom hiddleston #twh #tomhiddleston #twhiddleston #damn hiddleston #hiddlestoners #thomas william hiddleston #hiddleston #hiddles #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddelson #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x you #lulubelle814

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andsheloved · 2 years

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𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔

pairing ~ sir thomas sharpe x f!reader

word count ~ 1.3k

summary ~ when your own mind seems shattered, you're reminded of who will always be there to pick up the pieces.

warnings ~ plotless, pointless fluff, mention of nightmares/past traumatic experiences (nothing specific is mentioned), brief mention of death, implied insomnia, everyone needs to get some sleep.

a/n ~ this isn't the best thing i've written but my brain !! needed this !! let this be my little lullaby goodnight gift to you, and please enjoy some comforting thomas sharpe regardless mwauh :)

You could compare the feeling to something like falling, even if it really felt nothing like that. It wasn't that weightless, somewhat pleasant feeling one would get when drifting back into their own reality. It felt like death.

And in a way, maybe it was.

Even in your dreams, you could feel yourself falling back into the clutches of that endless cycle you couldn't seem to break, even while you attempted to find some sort of reprieve from your own mind in sleep, you still found yourself tormented, cursed with the ability of remembering.

You jolted awake, and suddenly you could feel your body once again, sensing how your chest rose and fell at a speed that, you had to admit, even worried yourself. You winced at the overwhelming buzzing that rang through your mind as you attempted to bring yourself back to the reality you found yourself paralyzed in, the only thing of warmth you could sense were the tears creeping down your face, stinging your eyes and reminding you of your own mortality.

"Dearest..." You could hear his voice, and although it was barely above a whisper to your ears, it felt like a tether, a life raft being thrown to you.

And so you reached for it, searching for the hushed flickers of his loving tone as you cut through the wicked, twisted vines that kept you from him, trying to return yourself to at least something akin to a resting state.

"You're alright..." You could hear him murmur, the feeling of his soft lips against the shell of your ear finally reaching your senses. "I'm here. I promise... You're safe..."

You felt a pain in your throat, as if being suffocated by your own anguish. The sensation was one of a monster in your chest, scratching and clawing against your insides, begging to be released in some sort of carnal, ferociously pained scream, though your lips remained sealed, or at least partially sealed. All that could escape your lips was a single, wounded sigh.

"Thomas..." You breathed, your trembling hand barely shifting, grasping for any part of him that you could hang on to.

"I'm right here."

His smooth voice only got clearer with each passing second, the feeling of his thumb gently brushing across your knuckles anchoring you to reality.

"I'm right here..." He continued to repeat, the gentle cadence of his words lulling your heartbeat until you began to feel some semblance of peace. "I'm right here."

Even as your mind settled, as your body began to no longer feel as if you had just ran some sort of harrowing marathon, you could still barely manage to say a word, so an almost silent whimper was all that escaped you.

And yet, even without a word uttered, he still managed to understand you.

Just as he always did.

His arms seemed to wrap around you in an instant, enveloping you into the warmth that you always seemed to find yourself longing for these days. Your heart stilled, finally at peace.

"Was it-"

You solemnly nodded before he could even finish, your chin gently nuzzling against his bicep as you did.

"Well..." He groaned softly, adjusting himself against you as he tenderly pulled you flush against his firm chest, prompting you to finally turn your head to face him. "You're safe now. Nothing can hurt you. Nothing could ever."

You swallowed harshly, your mind briefly returning to your previous state.

If it were anyone else, you might have even dared to accuse them of witchcraft, but it was Thomas. Your Thomas. And he knew you in a way you couldn't even comprehend yourself. It was as if he could read your mind, his thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, his touch shackling you once again to him.

He let out a gentle chuckle, "Don't leave me," He smiled, "Not when I've just gotten you back."

This time, you had managed to squeak out a few words in response. "Thank you."

You watched as his eyes softened, his eyebrows falling into an expression of slight concern. "You've nothing to thank me for." He grumbled, you noticed how his cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink as he spoke, this fact illuminated only by the dull slivers of moonlight that crept in from the window. "It's my honor."

Before you could stop it, a small chuckle left your lips, almost forgetting your situation entirely. "Honored?" You questioned softly. You couldn't even manage yourself half of the time, how could anyone feel any sort of honored to pick up after you?

His brows furrowed, a small, almost frustrated sounding huff came from him before he began to speak. "The first time..." He mumbled, trailing off for a moment, though you already knew what he was trying to say.

When the nightmares began.

"You could have turned from me," He continued, gently tracing his thumb against your cheek, "Pushed me from you entirely. Told me to leave you even." He smiled wistfully, "You didn't though. You allowed me to stay, to hold you, to promise that you were safe, that I would always protect you. You bestowed me with that honor, and it is not one that I take lightly." He finished, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

If you knew any better, you could have easily begun believing that he carried some sort of magic within him, your eyes gently drooping closed as soon as his lips touched your skin. Though maybe that was the magic of him, how he could calm your mind so easily.

The deep, quietly thunderous hum that rolled through him reached your ears like a lullaby, and you could feel his lips curl into a soft smile against your forehead.

There were a million words caught in your throat. Thousands of 'how could I ever live without you', hundreds of 'thank you's' and countless 'I love you's' begging to be ripped from your lips, and just as it was all about to come pouring out at once, as you began to acknowledge the fact that once you began speaking, you would certainly be awake until the morning, it seemed that he read your mind, silencing your thoughts at once.

"Get some rest, love, we can speak of everything in the morning if you'd like." He paused for a moment as he pulled at the heavy, quilted blanket engulfing you both, "Even if you choose not to, I'll be right beside you... Always."

His words faded as you drifted closer to the edge of exhaustion. You knew of the possibility of another nightmare, the lingering possibility of those all too familiar tendrils of pain and horror stained pieces of your imagination reaching out for you once again tonight, but somehow, you held no fear.

The heat of his body flooded your senses as you finally fell asleep, his final words somehow even reaching you in your unconsciousness, or maybe they weren't even his words, at least not in the current sense. Maybe they were just the words he had ingrained in you ever since the first time he told you that he loved you, the words that wrapped around you, filling you with light in any moment you felt surrounded by darkness. Maybe he hadn’t even uttered a thing, maybe it was just your own mind, comforting your soul with the voice of him as you fell into sleep.

Either way, you found you didn’t mind, all you cared for was that his voice was with you, guiding you through whatever darkness you may happen to encounter the rest of the night.

You could hear him as your breath evened and your pulse slowed, feeling him hold your hand through the pitch blackness. Even as your own mind attempted to betray you, taunting you with memories of pain you couldn’t seem to outrun, you could hear him.

“I’m here my dear, I always will be.”

fall-ish time = crimson peak time always for me. i know it has been a while and this isn't a huge fic or anything, but i've been writing this one on and off since things got a bit weird for me mentally, i just needed some pointless, fluffy, reassurance for my brain being weird, and hey if it came from thomas sharpe that wouldn't be too bad either :) i hope you all are doing so so good and thank you all for all your nice messages recently, i promise i will respond to all of them so soon!!

check out my masterlist :)

#thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe x female reader #thomas sharpe x f!reader #thomas sharpe x fem!reader #thomas sharpe comfort #thomas sharpe fluff #tom hiddleston x you #thomas sharpe x you #thomas sharpe x y/n #no use of y/n #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston imagine #crimson peak fan fiction #crimson peak x reader #crimson peak #tom hiddleston x f!reader #tom hiddleston character x reader #thomas sharpe reader insert

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viviennes-tears · 12 days

Text

Little Tease (Tom Hiddleston, Tom Holland, Sebastian Stan & X reader One shot)

18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion. ~

A/N: Hello all you wonderful people!

It's been forever since I last updated and I apologise profusely for my absence. I won't ramble on here about it, as there's a full explanation on my profile about my lack of updates, and an announcement too for you to check out. However I am hoping the following updates have been worth the extended wait.

Also thank you to Florence_Nightwing for sending me another prompt from back in October and for waiting extremely patiently for me to write this. I will say I got into a flow which then took a turn and I hope it worked out well. It was certainly fun to write and a great way to come back 😊 x

(This is now the last of the October 2023 prompts and prompts are still currently closed.)

Prompt requested by Florence_Nightwing on AO3: If your not too inundated, can you please do another like this? Tom and Sebastian go to the costume trailer to see Tom Holland in just his Spiderman thong for the female costume assistant he fancies. They decide to be annoying big brothers and tease him in front of her even going as far as to give him a wedge and ask her how she likes his butt cheeks, and they play with them. Something goofy like that, please.

Summary: You are working on a Marvel set as an assistant in the costume department. You've worked on all the solo Tom Holland (your crush) SpiderMan movies previously working on this movie set. You've always enjoyed the working environment and those who you've worked with, however this one particular day onset was one you weren't expecting, which ended up involving Tom, Tom Hiddleston and Sebastian Stan. Along the way you gain a new self-discovery.

------------------------------

"I'm sorry I keep causing you extra work all the time." Tom says, while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Nonsense, Tom, you know it's my job to do repairs and assist on costume designs." You assured him, as you prepare to fix his Spidey suit for the thousandth time whilst working on this movie alone.

Actually you've been lucky enough to be a costume assistant on all the solo SpiderMan movies since Tom took on the role, however this is the first time you've worked on any of the other Marvel projects, because usually when they asked for you to come back you had to decline, due to other work obligations. Although you made sure for all the solo SpiderMan movies that you were available to work, partly because you enjoyed those who you worked with, and partly because of your crush on Tom. Not that he knows you have feelings for him, nor have you noticed he has a crush on you too, despite it being so obvious to everyone else.

Once you had set everything ready you helped unzip him out of his suit, before he carefully pulled the suit down and off in order to not cause any further damage, albeit neither of you are aware of being watched during this short interaction. At least not until...

"Well, well, well Thomas...have we been careless again?" Sebastian says playfully, as he himself and Hiddleston emerge from their hiding spot from around the corner, each of them carrying their own costumes in their arms. Holland instantly sighs and rolls his eyes at the older men as they approach while you try to hide your amusement.

"Come now, Seb, don't embarrass the boy in front of the lovely lady." Hiddleston says flirtatiously, taking your hand and kissing it, purposely to annoy Holland and make you blush as you often did whenever he put on the charm.

"Aren't you two done for the day?" Tom asks slightly frustratedly, as Hiddleston winks at you and lets your hand go.

"We are indeed." Hiddleston replies, taking Sebastian's costume from him and hanging both of their costumes onto the correct standing rack.

"But there's no rush to be anywhere...besides we've not had much chance to catch up yet." Sebastian adds with a sly smile on his lips as he eyes Holland up and down. Clearly he is calculating his next move, making Holland a bit nervous, as for yourself you've somewhat recovered from Tom's charming act a moment ago.

Hiddleston suddenly appears behind Holland without him noticing until he feels the older man's big hands on his shoulders, causing him to flitch slightly, and then breath out when he turns his head to see who it was. "Relax, Tom." Hiddleston chuckles before he begins massaging his bare shoulders.

"Yeah, just us here..." Sebastian adds, his eyes darkening with mischief intent and Tom assumed Hiddleston looked the same way, they usually do when the teasing is going to take a turn that he can never quite predict what will come of it.

You cleared your throat shortly after Sebastian said that and then you began to assess the full extent of the damage to Tom's Spidey suit over by your workbench. Holland gulped as he felt Hiddleston’s hands gently trail down his back, before the slight squeeze on his hips. The way Tom squirmed distracted you and made you look between the men confused by the silent looks between each of them.

"What?" You asked with furrowed eyebrows, abandoning the Spidey suit on your workbench.

"What do you think of Thomas here?" Sebastian asks out of the blue, stunning you from the unexpected question. Sebastian's smirk reappears as he pulls Tom closer to him, making him face you while he drapes his arm around Tom's neck, and his hand resting on his bare chest. Tom stands there awkwardly, and he knows if he tries to move away it would be a futile attempt, meaning Sebastian will make it worse for him if he tries.

"Well...I-I think he's a great guy. Never difficult to work with nor does he cause any drama like some people can on sets." You replied, choosing these words as a safe way to answer the question. "Want more than that, love." Hiddleston says in a low seductive voice close to you, his scent invading your senses too. He did it on purpose again, getting you to blush and for Holland to feel annoyed he's flirting with you once more.

"You can't say you're not attracted to him right now...I mean look at this face." Sebastian teases as he pinches Holland's cheeks together with his free hand, the other still resting on his bare chest, his actions causing Tom to get a little flustered now he's worked out their intentions. Even if he hasn't worked out how far they will go.

You struggle to find words to divert from divulging your true feelings for Tom, but the blush on your cheeks was evident enough for them anyway, not that either Sebastian or Hiddleston would mention they've known for a long time already. Despite your inability to defend yourself it didn't falter the older men from teasing the pair of you further.

"He's quite the catch, no?" Hiddleston asks, his fingers brushing against your exposed arms due to the short sleeves you have on today, the feather-like touch forming goosebumps on your arms.

"What's not to like? He's young, good looking and sweet as you girls like to say." Sebastian continued, letting go of Holland's cheeks, but the hand which had been resting on his chest no longer stayed still. Instead his fingers started to circulate around Tom's left nipple slowly and gently. The sensation caused Tom's nipple to react and form a tweak-able point, much to his annoyance Sebastian took advantage, rolling the peak of his nipple between his fingers. Your eyes widened slightly, this wasn't at all where you imagined this conversation to go at all, of course your reaction amused the older men to no end.

"What more could you ask for, darling?" Hiddleston adds, as he moves over to the guys, his fingers gone yet left a tingling sensation in their wake.

"Alright, alright guys, I think Y/N is getting uncomfortable now." Tom says with nervous laughter and pleading eyes. It's clear he's trying to hide something from you, you just can't work out what, at least not yet.

Sebastian mockingly ponders for a few seconds before saying, "no, I think we're getting somewhere with this. Right, Tommy?"

"Right." Hiddleston agrees, wrapping his arm around Holland's waist, Sebastian's still around his neck. "We're only helping out the little guy." Hiddleston adds playfully, both he and Sebastian chuckle simultaneously. Holland sighs exasperatedly, you're speechless, this being the strangest interaction you've had with any of them.

"Come on, Thomas, lighten up." Sebastian says, his hand trailing down Tom's back down to his ass, squeezing his bare ass cheek firmly. Holland's eyes widened in surprise as he jumped a little at the same time. "Do you like his ass, Doll?" Sebastian asks, a darker look appearing in his eyes as he stares at Holland.

"I-I er..." You stuttered, your cheeks flushing again at another risque question, Tom's cheeks just as red too.

"I think you just need a memory refresher." Sebastian says, his fingers wrapping around the thin waistband of Tom's thong, then tugging at them swiftly and yanking them upwards. Tom lets out a little unexpected yelp as his balls were being strung up. His lips then press into a firm thin line as Sebastian man handles him with his free hand, Hiddleston's arm falling from his waist, his butt then on full display to you now he's been made to turn around. "Mhm...peachy." Sebastian adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

A few seconds later Sebastian man handles Tom again, he stumbles as Sebastian forces him to walk over to the workbench, he frees up some space, shoving things aside including the Spidey suit to one side too. Followed by Sebastian standing to the side while pressing Tom forwards against the workbench, forcing him face down, his hand pressing down on his back with his fingers splayed out to keep him in place. Hiddleston starts smirking in his signature Loki way, his eyes darkening now too to match Sebastian's own, he also continues to crotch down on the other side of Holland, spanking his ass hard and Holland yelps again. Your jaw drops instantly, realising they must have a much closer relationship than anyone knew about, plus the more you witness their behaviour the more you realised you're now somehow involved too.

"He likes a good spanking." Hiddleston seemed to have a look about him that made you realise he really wasn't joking, despite his tone sounded like he was. The next thing you knew was Hiddleston grabbing hold of your wrist, gently pulling you closer, as Holland peered over his shoulder shyly with brightly flushed cheeks. "Give it a try, love." Hiddleston encourages, his thumb gently rubbing over your skin and you feel another tingling sensation from his touch.

The older men see you're hesitant, you have every right to be though, after all you've never spanked anyone before. Sebastian and Hiddleston give each other an exchange of looks in agreement, leading to Hiddleston easing your hand towards Holland's butt, before getting you to cup his bare ass cheek in your palm. You all hear the loud gulp from Holland and you feel his ass clenching beneath your touch. Followed by you taking a shaky breath out of nervousness, albeit your fingers soon twitch, feeling the warmth of Holland's ass in your hand and Hiddleston's fingers lightly caressing the back of your hand. This lasts for a long moment before Hiddleston leads your hand away and back again, a light tap on Holland's ass on re-entry, he's easing you into the idea of spanking. All the while Sebastian watched Hiddleston teach you how to spank someone the right way to bring pleasure. Of course he was delighted by the sight and absentmindedly caressed Holland's body.

Every touch and sensation was affecting Tom, his breathing becoming more shaky and low, his cheeks still bright red, while his fists kept clenching and unclenching. Although the long awaited anticipation eventually arrived, after the small little practice goes your hand thwacked against his ass hard, a low moan escaping Tom's lips upon impact while you felt the way his flesh had a slight heat to it already.

Hiddleston rose up to his full height shortly thereafter, leaning in closer towards you, his scent assaulting your senses again due to the closeness. "Again, darling." Hiddleston whispered lowly, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, causing your lips to part slightly to allow a tiny puff of air to escape. A smirk appeared on his lips like before as his fingers wrapped around your wrist once more. "Again." He repeats.

You look toward Sebastian who nods approvingly and bites his lower lip. By this point however it's like these men have gotten under your skin like you never imagined they could, yet somehow they had accomplished to do so. On the other hand it was all rather arousing too, once you had become acquainted with the situation you found yourself in, a situation which would be engraved into your memory for sure.

As you prepared to give Tom another good smack he peered over his shoulder at you again. His eyes seem to be staring into your soul, not like he's begging for you to stop, in fact you see the opposite and you know he wants more. There have been many times where you pictured Tom during the throes of pleasure, however never in your wildest dreams had you pictured him like being dominated. That look did give you reassurance about doing this and you went for it this time. This time you spanked Tom's butt repeatedly in a rapid quick session, the older men not able to take their eyes off the scene before them, while Tom moaned and yelped in pleasure.

"Enough." Sebastian suddenly cuts you off mid action after a few consecutive slaps. You do as you're told and watch Sebastian help Tom to stand up properly again. His hand massaging Tom's butt, earning a low grunt from Tom, both older men chuckled.

"Not bad, love." Hiddleston praises and places a kiss upon your reddened cheek. Getting their approval actually felt nice, but you also had a feeling you've definitely delved into something with the three of them now.

In the end you found it wasn't as far-fetched as it may have first sounded, because within the next hour an hour you found yourself in Hiddleston's trailer with the three of them, naked. Your seemingly normal day working on set turned into an afternoon delight partaking in a foursome. A foursome with even more kinky antics and you being fucked in every hole at the same time. Your body got used and over simulated in the most pleasurable way by the end. Along the way discovering a new side of yourself, a side of yourself you wanted to continue to explore, the exploration you knew would only ever be satisfied with these three beautiful men.

------------------------------

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year

Text

requests are open for 2 weeks!

To celebrate 500 followers (holy shit?! thank you?!), I've decided to open up requests on my blog for the next two weeks. These last few months I've been writing what I wanted based on the brain farts that pop up in my chaotic mind, and as a thank you, I want to write something based on what you want from the brain worms that live rent free in your minds.

Requests will close on: November 15

Rules after the cut

Smut can and will be done, but here are the hard limits

no anal play (i don't trust myself to write that convincingly)

no water sports

no 💩 (i'm hoping this is obvious but just in case it's not)

no blood

no noncon/dubcon; no pedophilia; no necrophilia; no bestiality

no Daddy kink (again, i do not trust myself to write this convincingly…maybe in the next milestone)

Pairings I will write for:

Male Loki x Female Reader

Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader

Jonathan Pine x Female Reader

Magnus Martinsson x Female Reader

Thomas Sharpe x Female Reader

How to Request:

Option 1: visit the blog @muddyorbs-writes and pick a prompt from any of the posts that have been reblogged on there. Send me an ask on this blog with a link to the post. If the post is a list of prompts, include the specific prompt/s in your ask.

Option 2: send me an ask containing your own story synopsis/concept/prompt

#requests open #loki x reader #thomas sharpe x reader #tom hiddleston x reader #jonathan pine x reader #magnus martinsson x reader

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goldpomegranates · 2 years

Text

solid grip

007!Male!Reader x Bond Boy!Tom Hiddleston

Rated E for explicit sexual content, dubious consent, & voyeurism WORD COUNT: 2.2k also on AO3.

Playing wrangler to another double-0 would normally be child's play, but when a crime lord sets her eyes on Mr Hiddleston thanks to his natural charm and insistence of being a gentleman, the assignment gets dicey. He plays the role of seductor to perfection, and much to your dismay, all you can do is watch.

—x.

MI6 gives him a gun. It comes as no surprise really, following the events at Monte Carlo and the narrow escape that cost you two months’ worth of off-duty physical therapy in order to regain feeling in your right arm. No doubt he’s learned how to use it in that time, has eased into how his own limbs should move in close-quarters-combat. He’s sharp-eyed, quick witted, and one hell of a fast learner. A little bit much for just being a secretary shipped off to play Bond Girl to your 007, but you’ve never complained.

Thomas certainly has, but he forfeited the right to do so the moment he took that gun from Q. Packing power beyond most conventional handguns, the Beretta is tailored to his specific biometric data, its grip and barrel modified to sit comfortably in his hands. The way his long, slender fingers wrap around the polished surface, forearms straining against the recoil during target practice has been distracting, to say the least.

Unfortunately, the gun is only the start. At times, he is his own deadliest weapon, if even by no choice of his own.

You keep an eye on him from behind Q’s desk, the camera feed unrealistically crisp for a tiny lens perched in a nondescript corner of a cramped room. The audio feed is less grand, and the situation is dicey.

In the back room of a nightclub in London, another double-0 is playing the good girl card, her voluptuous chest and thighs barely reigned in by the sleek red evening dress she’s wearing. Tom hangs on her arm like a protective boyfriend, trying to sell the ruse to the crime lord currently dealing them an offer. Drugs, weapons, state secrets, the usual.

Said crime lord, also a lady of astonishing build and beguiling presence, eyes them both with interest beyond the professional kind. She’s playful, waving baggies below their noses as her hulking bodyguards wield assault rifles by all exits. It’s meant to be a reconnaissance mission, a quick in-and-out, but she’s taking too long to crack, and your people are getting antsy.

“Get me a name, double-0,” you say, applying just a hint of pressure. Neither reacts, but you know they’ve heard you.

You are not a handler, neither are you a supervisor, but this was meant to be your assignment had you not taken a bullet for the secretary. Q was, miraculously, on vacation, and as devoted to Queen and Country as MI6 is, the true voice of the people was the five hundred pound note. Especially the five hundred pound notes you swiftly slid into the home team’s pockets in order to grant yourself a say on the mission.

“—another type of payment,” the lady says, a feedback loop leaving your ear ringing.

Tom steps aside, awkwardly wringing his hands as the crime lord takes the double-0 by the hips and kisses her cheek. You make nothing of it, all agents have trained for this kind of scenario, but it dawns on you that Tom isn’t, in fact, an actual agent. He’s a glorified sidepiece, a decorative charm planted, in this case, to make his female counterpart come off as powerful.

You’re about to offer a warning but he interrupts the two women, hands to his chest with concern clear across his face. The mics are barely holding on and, had the Quartermaster been at HQ, he would’ve found a way around the problem. Instead, it’s just you on visual, a gaggle of runts on the ground, a double-0 in a bind, and a secretary who thinks he can retcon a potentially disastrous situation.

“Sinclair, don’t let him,” you tell the double-0. “Hiddleston, I’ll make sure this is the last field mission you ever see.” In hindsight, you figure that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

There’s a reshuffling of people, quick conversations, and snappy commands, and you watch in abject horror as the bodyguards mill out of the room with the double-0 in tow.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You are usually a tad more composed in these kinds of situations, but you have zero faith in Hiddleston getting the name you need when oftentimes doing so requires techniques you know the man won’t be able to stomach.

To inflict torture, one must first be subjected to it.

The bastard was too much of a gentleman to even consider the option, but his English sensibilities were definitely questionable when you witness him curl a finger beneath the crime lord’s chin, slowly tipping her face up to look at him. Her hands grip the front edges of his jacket, her blood red lipstick glossy under the room’s lighting. She smiles at him, eyes squinted with copious amounts of suspicion, but she seems appeased for the time being.

She sits on the couch in front of him, her legs crossed, and beckons him forward with a finger.

You count the hidden weapons in the room.

It shouldn’t bother you. You’ve seen it before, have sat through far more grotesque situations. You’ve trained for this. You all have. It’s your job to give it all for the assignment, no matter the cost.

In some cruel twist, the mic picks up everything. The rustling of fabric as acrylic nails play with his belt, the ripple of a zipper, the shocked gasp. You could take the headset off, but you don’t. You shouldn’t in case she breaks and gives up the name of her supplier.

“Very chivalrous of you,” she says, and you can see the movement of her elbow, can imagine her hand wrapped around him, “giving yourself up to protect your girl’s honor. Although was that truly the reason?”

Tom’s back is to the camera, his feet wide apart for balance. She leans forward and his head tilts back, eyes fluttering. You can’t see that last part, but you’ve had him in a similar situation, beheld the way he wore pleasure when teased.

“The world needs more men like you,” she continued, before the sound of a moan around a mouthful came through the headset. She pulled back, putting her hand back to work. “Whores, I mean. Good looking ones with proper manners and a deep-rooted desire to get thoroughly fucked.”

He makes an indignant sound and retaliates by taking a fistful of her long hair. She takes it in stride, leaning into the grip as she jerks him off.

“Do you have anyone back home? No offense, but you and that woman hardly have any chemistry. You couldn’t fool a blind woman if you wanted to.”

She goes in with her mouth again, this time staying there for a long moment.

You look away from the screen, disgusted by your interest. The hot, heavy pulsing between your legs something you will have to program out of your system in the near future.

You have played it fast and loose these past several months, courting Tom in some sort of acquaintanceship with benefits fantasy. Despite never truly sleeping with him, always stepping away when things got too heated, this nagging possessiveness grew exponentially pervasive.

It’s not part of the job. It could never be a part of your life while on the job. The only friends you could afford to name were your Quartermaster and M, and those were just your work buddies at the most. Lovers were few and far between, the occasional hit and run to let off steam, something that has become unnecessary when training and field work were just as effective.

But here was Mr Hiddleston getting under your skin, getting felt up by someone else under your supervision, apparently enjoying himself going by the way he enthusiastically removed his jacket.

And the sounds he made. Maybe he was adept at torture, just not the painful kind.

You look back at the monitor out of the corner of your eye and see that they’ve moved. For the love of everything holy, he’s sitting on the couch, trousers undone and cock in hand. She’s hovering over him, knees on either side of his thighs, dress bunched up in her hands.

You can’t bear looking anymore, but you do. You do. The way his hands hold onto her back, guide her in a graceless bounce that looks as sloppy as it sounds, the way he thrusts up to meet her has you gripping the edge of the desk.

The rub of fabric over the mic is grating, but it isn’t enough to obscure his thoughtless ramble and her vicious whisper. A whisper that puts you on high alert again, eyes and ears open. “Quite the show for your mates back at MI6, I reckon,” she says with a laugh, cradling his face in her hands. “Should I tell them?”

“Don’t,” Tom says, momentarily clear.

“Should I tell him?”

Your knee stops its jittering, your entire body going still. It has to be a coincidence, you tell yourself, digging through the scene in front of you. She’s cunning, everyone on the case knows this, and she will say anything to get under anyone’s skin. Just because she is able to read him doesn’t mean she knows him.

“So, it is a boy,” she says, gasping, breathless. “Is he as charming as you? Oh! Is he a double-0?”

Through the haze, Tom’s eyes momentarily flicker to the camera. She doesn’t seem to catch him doing so, but you do. Your finger hovers over the metaphorical panic button, the one that will send everyone in the vicinity crashing into that fucking room and run damage control. The situation has now gone from precarious to dangerous, and you refuse to get another red mark on your ledger.

“Is he watching us right now? Can he hear us? Why don’t you go ahead and tell him how tight I am, how hard you are inside of me?” She leans back, her hands on his knees for leverage. And that’s good. Her hands are preoccupied, nowhere near a weapon. “Is it me? Or is it the thought of him watching that has you dripping?”

You cross your legs, expression schooled despite the absence of eyes around you. Maybe Medical was right and you should have taken a proper leave, at least until the remnants of painkillers and whatever other substances had left your body. You spare a thought to James and how he would have handled the situation, or any other double-0 for that matter. Hell, you even consider reaching out to Moneypenny for advice and your thoughts are drifting.

The headset crackles with the sound of a voice that isn’t Tom’s, but someone else on location. You catch a hint of your name, and a choppy question you take to mean whether or not they should move in. The answer makes itself impossible when on the other end all you can hear is the debauched cries of two people—one of which you wish was you and that is a problem. That is a big fucking problem. Playing around with the secretary is one thing but getting defensive about said secretary clearly enjoying a quick shag on the job is so far out of bounds you momentarily consider reassignment.

“Do not engage,” you say, and in return you get Tom’s sweet gasp.

The lady has wrapped herself around him, and while his hands rest at her back, pressed together, he’s staring at the camera. His gaze is steady despite the sultry part of his lips, his movements slow and measured. He leans back enough to lift her dress and show you where they meet, the slow glide of him moving in and out of her, the heavy weight of pleasure on his face.

You dig deep for that iron control that landed you the position. Back ramrod straight, you tell yourself the reason why you’re resting a hand over your thigh is for balance, a grounding touch, and not at all because you came close to pressing a palm against your groin. Shifting in your seat provides no relief, accidental pressure sending you to your feet.

Leaning over the desk, hands firmly splayed over the high-tech surface, you breathe evenly through your nose as you continue to listen. The woman’s frantic panting, Tom’s pleading as his voice goes higher than you’ve ever heard it before, and you want it. You want him.

The finishing blow leaves you lightheaded, his long and ragged moan stroking the deepest parts of you until it echoes inside of your stomach. The aching throb between your legs has not gone away and you will do nothing to remedy it, just suck it up and keep going, get your agents home safe.

“Disengage,” you say over the headset, ignoring the waver in your voice. “If she’s not giving it up after that, there’s no use in pursuing. We’ll find another way.”

The crime lord whispers into Tom’s ear, and you can see the moment it happens, the triumph in his eyes telling you that he got it, that she broke at the last second, but you know better. There’s no dick good enough to surrender an empire over. Whatever that woman has up her sleeve will come at a steep cost. But some bridges can be allowed to stand through the night.

“Get yourself cleaned up, Mr Secretary. Our men are on the move.”

#tom hiddleston/reader #tom hiddleston/you #x male reader #x gn reader #jag!tom #james bond au #c's writing.#reader insert #series: house of aces

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angelkhi · 3 years

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy - L.L

Pairing: Priest!Loki x Reader

Summary: You turn to anonymous confession at your local church to help solve your problems, though the priests solution seems far from holy.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, both Loki & reader are kind of switches???., handjob, blasphemy, language obvs, oral (f), dirty talk?, cum play?, overstimulation, crying?, some mentions of loneliness, squirting?

Word count: 2.6k

A little note: Fleabag ruined me! anyways, here's some sins in the confessional <3 As always sorry for any typos, and let me know if I miss any warnings!

The whole religious lifestyle had never really been your thing, even your presence beneath the looming arches and holy paintings felt sacrilegious. You're not entirely sure what you're doing there, what drove you to believe a confessional booth would solve the many problems in your life, but here you are.

The building is magnificent, dark wooden beams running up the walls and crossing along the grand white ceilings. A pipe organ adorns a large section of the left hand wall, surrounded by four aisles of wooden pews. The alter is surrounded by a large stain glass window, a large cross at the centre, behind the pure stone communion table. Though you had little knowledge or desire for the religion itself, you can't deny the sheer beauty of the place.

"Can I help you?" The voice echos about the vast space, startling you from your spot to turn and look at the culprit. He's a tall man, loose dark curls, mossy green eyes, clerical collar; he was singlehandedly both the most holy and sinful thing you'd witness in your lifetime. He was also by the looks of things, a priest.

"I uh, wanted to- confession. I've come to confession." The words are quite the opposite of elegant and you blame it on the way he squares his already broad shoulders, the lean muscles on his chest pushing against the cotton black shirt.

"Of course. Come." Yes father. "I'm Father Laufeyson, but if it makes me easier you can call me Loki." He offers out a hand for you to shake, which you gladly accept offering a small smile in the process. His skin is soft, warm and inviting, so much so you're not sure how you managed to drop his hand. His eyes linger for a moment, something not quite sacred or holy within them but you brush it off, and allow him to guide you to a secluded corner of the church where two little cubby holes are separated by two ancient wooden doors.

He pulls one open and gestures for you to step inside, shutting it behind you with a dull thud. A gentleman, you think to yourself. But those eyes. There's something in them. Father Laufeyson's door thuds shut some seconds later and a comfortable silence falls over the two of you.

"I've never really done this before," you speak lightly, "I'm not sure where to even start."

"I'll guide you, don't worry. Repeat after me, 'Bless me Father, for I have sinned, this is my first confession'," He waits for you to repeat after him and continues, "Tell me your sins."

Maybe it's it's voice, the mighty boom of respect with slightly sensual undertones that has your thighs rubbing together, sexual thoughts about a priest, whilst in a church, a sin in itself. You force your brain to settle, the thoughts to subside and will a strength to your voice before you divulge.

"I'm not sure why I'm here, maybe cause it's cheaper than therapy, I don't know," you pause, silently kicking yourself until you hear his breathy laugh, lacking no sort of grace, a hymn in its own right.

"Go on, I won't judge anything you say." You can hear the smile in his voice as he goes on to say, "Scouts honour,"

It's your turn to laugh now as you relax more into the decrepit wooden bench that creaks if you so much as breath a little too loud. The silence is both comforting and deafening, knowing that the second you start talking all you'll want to hear is that silence.

"I'm jealous, of my friends, of everyone. They're all falling in love and I'm alone. And I guess I'm jealous of them." You pause for a moment, mulling over your thoughts and how to best speak them to a fucking priest of all people.

"Go on." Those two little words of encouragement, especially from his mouth, is like turning on a tap and you're unable to control yourself as your words spill out.

"They're all off going out, having fun, meeting new people, finding guys that are actually interested in them and having mind blowing sex which I know is... a lot of sinning but maybe... maybe I want to sin too."

"Then sin."

"Excuse me?" His words take you aback, the sheer bluntness of his tone.

"The only way to recognise good is to know bad, so sin. Sin til your hearts content, as long as you confess, God will always forgive your sins." Father Laufeyson speaks some wisdom to you, even if you roll your eyes at the religious part, but what do you expect, he's a priest after all.

"Isn't that kind of against your job description? Telling me to sin? And regardless. I wouldn't know where to even start."

"Maybe so, but you need my help and I'm offering it to you," His breath is deep and contemplative, gripping a tight leash on his control, "Come here."

Once again you're startled, not by his words but by the tone. By the sensual command that has you on your feet and wandering to his side of the confessional booth, the two of you in the tiny space leaning no room for personal space.

"Is this allowed?"

"I wouldn't say so no. Only if you want it." Lust. That look in his eyes, the one from earlier, it was a moment unbridled, pure lust. He was offering himself to you like some sort of sin shrouded communion.

You do. You want it so bad you'll be confessing til the day you die, but you also have no self control so you let him guide you to his lap and take a seat across his firm thighs.

"I need to hear you say you want it, kitten." He almost purrs against your ear, and it's impossible to uphold your morals and say no.

"I want it, Father. Please."

His kiss is searing hot, a secure hand on the small of your back making sure you have nowhere to move as he grinds up against you, the small amount of friction leaving you whimpering like the desperate, touch starved slut you are.

Loki's hands leave you only to undo the top few buttons on his shirt and remove his clerical collar. Father Laufeyson's shirt is unbuttoned, collar discarded, the tiny glimpse of his chest eggs you on further, your hips moving rhythmically over the rough material of his trousers bringing yourself more pleasure than you'd like to admit.

The button on his trousers pops open easily and they're loose enough for you to palm his dick out of his boxer briefs. Loki sucks in a cheerful of air when your fingers circle him, squeezing his base a little and thumbing at his slit, oozing with pre cum. He was putty in your hands from the moment you touched him, but to undo him completely, my god would it be beautiful.

"Fuck kitten, you feel so good," He groans right into your ear, his words going straight to your core.

Loki is writhing beneath you, panting breathy moans into your ear, his hips thrusting up into your hand, using you to get himself off.

"Good boy, Father. Fuck my fist, c'mon," Loki's mouth opens wide, the sound getting stuck in his throat, "You like it when I tell you how good you're being for me?" A nod and hum are all he can muster, but you don't mind. Breaking him down to this, having him under your control with only your fist is an achievement.

His cock is red and weeping, begging for release, his mouth finding any piece of exposed skin to mark you as his, your shoulder, neck, and chest covered in deep red bruises. He's muttering constantly, begging, rattling off please into your skin.

You find his lips once more, unable to keep quiet as you bring yourself closer to release, his hand on your hip rocking you at a steady pace.

"Kitten, please. Darling, c'mon."

The priests own guttural whimpers are enough to finish you there and then. You'd give anything to have that spent look in his eyes be the only thing you see for the rest of your life, the way his face crumbles with the pleasure, the way he pants and writhes.

His pleasure is the most important thing in that moment, you want him broken beneath you spilling on your hand, completely succumbed to your touch and my god is he close.

"Fucking shit, I'm so close darling, so close. Don't stop." He begs. The six foot something, broad shouldered man succumbed to nothing by just the grip of your hand. Your grin is feral when he moans loudly into your ear, especially when he blushes for making it so disgustingly obvious what the two of you are up to, even if the church is empty.

Father Laufeyson's hips lift from the creaking bench, fucking up into your hand, using you to chase his orgasm until his chest is heaving and he's shooting rope after rope of hot cum onto your hand, forcing you to swallow his moans as he kisses you, his tongue pushing into your mouth claiming you just as much as you claim him.

You pull away when your lungs start to burn from the lack of air, his hips jerking into the few extra pumps you deliver to him, until he's wining for you to stop. You lock eyes with him, the mossy bright green even darker than they were some moments ago, a sensual haze washing over him as you bring your hand to your mouth, licking up his seed from your skin until there's nothing left.

Both your ragged breathes are the only sound in the church, the only sound that you care about. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip and you're on him in a flash, sucking his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it until he pulls it free and mutters fuck it under his breath.

Loki is on his knees in a heartbeat, his hands frantic as he undoes your jeans, pulling them off, sparing your soaked panties instead pushing them to the side. He's reckless from the first taste, eating your cunt like its his first meal in months. He's an expert, the way he nuzzles his face into you, fucking you with his tongue whilst his broad nose stimulates your clit.

Your hand is locked around your mouth, muffling the borderline screams that are near impossible to keep at bay. You're practically biting down on your skin, the lingering taste of his cum making you impossibly wetter.

He comes up for air, sucking bruises onto your thighs, his hands spreading you wider, lifting one of your legs over his bread shoulder. Loki pulls your destroyed panties down, stuffing them into your mouth to quiet your moans, leaning your hands free to roam his hair and shoulders.

"All spread open for me kitten, my god you're fucking gorgeous." He blows a strip of cold air against your wet folds, "I'm gonna ruin this cunt. Shit you're fuckin' delectable, what did I do to deserve this?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, nuzzling his head between your legs. Father Laufeyson's fingers dig into your thighs, his tongue circling your clit lightly followed by his lips closing around it, sucking with a perfect pressure that has your hips grinding onto his face.

He wastes no time, slipping two of his slim fingers into your soaked hole and you swallow him up with ease. Loki hits spots you didn't know existed with his curled digits, massaging your soft walls over and over til your legs are like jelly.

"Father, fuck, m'so close." Your voice is muffled against the wet fabric in your mouth and he reaches up to pull it free, allowing you to talk.

"Beg for it,"

Lord have fucking mercy.

"Father Laufeyson, please I need it so bad. Need to cum around your fingers, on your face. Wanna watch you eat my cunt till I cum. Father please."

He'd soon find out if hell was warm putting on such a display, here of all places and it seemed you'd be joining him, your filthy words only intensifying his actions. Your panties are back in your mouth and with good reason. He sucks on your clit as though his life depends on it, the sheer amount of pressure making for an intense orgasm.

Your writhing on that same bench he was just moments before, creaming around his fingers that he continues to fuck into you at a such bruising pace, you're unsure if your legs will even carry you out of the booth.

"Want a special one, Kitten. Can you do that for me? Can you squirt on my face?"

You'd never done it before, not by your own accord or anyone else's yet you're still nodding at his request, each sound dampened by the lace and cotton between your teeth. You'd go to hell and back if he asked you at this point.

He reapplies that same pressure with his mouth, swirling his tongue under the head of your clit, the feeling in your lower abdomen familiar yet strange. It soon turns into an overwhelming urge to pee until he pushes you even beyond that, his fingers and tongue unforgiving, seeking what he wants no matter the repercussions.

The sensation is so intensely good and overwhelming you can't help but cry, both in frustration and pleasure. You're almost sobbing as he fucks up into your spent pussy. When Father Laufeyson looks up to see the tears on your cheeks, your eyes almost as wet as your pussy he works with no mercy, desperate to catch your release.

Two more pumps from his slender digits and flick of his sinfully skilled tongue have you gushing, your legs tensing and relaxing in spasms of pleasure. He's unrelenting as he licks up every last drop, not stopping until you're shoving him away from you, the feeling too overwhelming. His cheeks and chin glisten with your juices and he's grinning like a madman, his eyes transfixed between your weeping eyes and spent cunt. He's sure he's going to hell after that display but if this is what hell is like, he doesn't mind. Not one bit.

Loki kisses both of your cheeks, and then your lips and you taste yourself and the saltiness of your never ending stream of tears. Oh how the tables had turned, the cocky bastard that was grinning against your lips was sat exactly where you are begging for his own release, and now look at him. The cat that got the cream. He hoists you up, just enough that he can put you on his lap, straddling his half hard, clothed cock.

"You're perfect. Never tasted a pussy like yours, gonna have to keep you all myself from now on." He grinds up into you once, laughing quietly at just how sensitive you are.

"Bet none of your friends can say they've fucked a priest." He pokes. You're half way to offended by his brash words in such a sacred space until you consider your current position, him between your legs, half hard cock pressed up against your weeping pussy, in a dark confessional booth, oh and the fact you just let a priest give you head in church.

"Technically, neither can I Father." You taunt.

"Not for long, kitten."

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #avengers smut #loki x f!reader #loki x female reader #priest!loki #smut #marvel smut #thor the dark world #thor ragnorak #thomas sharpe #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddelson #marvel imagine #loki fic rec #fic rec

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angeli-marco-writes · 2 years

Text

Tom Hiddleston - Watch It Burn

A/N & WC - This was utterly self indulgent and I'm not sorry whatsoever. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction. Mary is fictional. 1.4k blurb.

Warnings - Social media relationship exposal (?), smut: unprotected sex, posessive sex, 18+.

Summary - When Tom gets a call from his publicist, he's loath to do what she asks, and once it's done, it's clear to see why.

After a long, late, languorous night, the very last thing you want is to be woken by your boyfriend Tom’s phone ringing. Again.

Why does this always happen after the most tiring nights? And why so damn early? Do Tom’s entourage not understand the concept of no calls till 10? And there’s so many: you’d think one of them has a clue. Between his agent, manager, stylist, publicist and just-in-case attorney you’d think one of them has a brain cell or a clock.

“Tommy…” you grumble, grabbing a pillow and slamming it onto your face, muffling the noise slightly.

He kisses your shoulder, “Sorry baby,” and rolls over, tugging the sheet with him, to answer. “Hello?”

The unfortunately distinguishable voice of his adenoidal publicist trills down the line. “Good morning!”

“What do you want, Mary?” he asks, his voice deep, laced with sleep. He’s just as tired as you are, though he’d never risk sounding inarticulate.

“Well that’s no way to talk to your wonderful publicist!”

You scoff, wonderful. She’s the worst one on his team, always so cheery! It’s a nightmare.

“Well you shouldn’t have woken me up then, should you?” he bites right back, only to pull a hand taut over his face. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. Late night.”

His hand rubs your bare hip beneath the duvet at this, causing you to squirm away with muffled giggle, accidentally kicking him.

“Well don’t stay up so late! It’s nine a.m, Tom, come on. You couldn’t be this flaky if you were on set at the moment.”

“I’m so close to putting the phone down right now,” he warns.

“Okay okay. I need you to post on Instagram.”

He sits bolt upright, letting the sheet fall around him, his god-like abs on full display.

“You’re joking, aren’t you? This is in jest. I’m not going back into that internet hellscape. What do you take me for?” he demands.

“Well I’m sorry Tom”—yeah, and she really sounds it: you roll your eyes—“but you’re losing traction. You need more media attention and to build up your image. The fastest, most efficient way to do that is to post on Instagram. You, the dog, the effing skyline. I literally do not care. Just post something before you become a nobody.”

You roll over indecorously in bed, hearing him heave a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. You place your hand flat on his warm, toned stomach, calming him.

“Yeah fine. I’ll do it within the next week.”

“Today or tomorrow,” she chirps with a forced, nasally brightness, “or we’ll have to stage a headline.”

He doesn’t even grace her with a reply before ending the call, his face like thunder as he flops onto the pillows with a great huff.

“You’ve gotta go back on Instagram?” you inquire, trying to keep your voice soft.

“Yeah. Good grief, I hate it. That place is malignant.”

“I know, Tommy. Maybe I can take your mind off it…” you coo.

Your hand snakes lower, fingertips dancing over his exposed, semi-hard member.

He hisses through his teeth when you clasp him in your hand, “Baby, what are you doing?”

“Distracting you.”

Your lips are on his a moment later, a mess of teeth and tongues. He yanks you into his lap unabashedly and grips your hips tight as you begin to leave marks down his neck.

He takes all his frustration out on you, both in bed and a short while later in the shower. He fucks you carnally, whispering dirty things in your ear that heat your cheeks. He lets you bite his hand and his neck when the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

And then he shampoos your hair, tenderly kissing down your spine.

This man’s facets are utterly astonishing, even after all this time.

He kisses you languid and slow while you finish off in the shower, water lashing down on both your backs as you clean the exertion off one another.

Once you turn the water off and head out, Bobby takes your place in the bathroom, pawing at Tom’s legs after patiently waiting for his walk.

He picks Bobby up and gives him a good fuss before wiping the steam off the mirror.

“Baby, do I look sexy today?”

“You always look sexy,” you tell him, “but extra sexy today. Why?”

You don’t get a response from him, but don’t think too much of it. He sometimes comes out with weird questions like these, doubting himself and his looks and abilities. You just suppose this is another one of those times and you can show him how sexy he is once he comes back into the bedroom.

Tom, however, is taking his publicist's advice about starting a media storm. Not that she said that… but her threat about one of those awful staged headlines that’ll get him in the shit again implies he needs to make a splash, and soon.

Adorable Bobby on his hip, towel tied low, phone looking tiny in his big, veined hand, heavenly abs tensed, golden-auburn hair tousled in natural curls. Yeah, he thinks to himself, I do look handsome. Sexy, even.

So, in a mood so unlike himself, he snaps a couple of pics, and after putting Bobby down and sending him out to his basket with a chew toy and a promise of a walk in a few, he flicks through and finds the only one he really likes: the one that truly shows off his Herculean, god-like stature.

Tom, however, doesn’t look too closely in order to prevent him deleting them all. And nor do you when he shows it to you.

“Christ you look good,” you whisper, hand carding through his curls and tugging. Hard.

That’s all the incentive he needs to click post after drafting whatever brief, witty caption he came up with on the walk from the bathroom.

When his phone blows up, he decides to ignore it. He’s been absent from social media for well over a year so this is to be expected. He also silences it for a few hours: texts, calls, the lot.

He just goes about his domestic life with you: cooking brunch, walking Bobby, reading, writing, dancing around the living room.

Until, a short while later, his landline phone rings. His publicist, again.

“Tom. Do you realise what you posted? Or— or, even better! Do you realise what the hell you’ve done?!” she screeches.

“Mary,” he says calmly, trying to keep all condescension from his tone, “I did what you asked. I posted, I got attention. What now?”

“Christ, okay. Clearly you’ve no clue. Open up your Instagram right now.”

You’re beside him, your face cold with panic as you fumble for your phone and pull the photo up.

Taking a closer look, your heart patters, jerks and stops. Then it begins an erratic rate a moment later. “Oh… shit.”

You show Tom and watch the palpable horror wash over him. “No. No no no no no.”

“Eloquent as ever, Tom,” she deadpans in that shrill, falsely bright tone. “Fix it on your end. I’ll get started on damage control.”

“I’m so sorry, Mary,” he bleats, “I’m deleting it now.”

She puts the phone down with a despairing sigh.

Tom’s baby blue gaze meets yours, stress broiling there like a storm.

“What have we done, baby?”

You chuckle mirthlessly as you reply, “Broken the internet.”

And you have. Because the details in the picture are impossible to construe any other way.

Handprints, big and small, on the glass of the shower; hickeys on Tom’s milky neck; actual teeth marks on the webbing of his hands, scratches from you raking your nails down his muscular chest.

You may as well have written ‘Tom had sex’ in the steamy mirror for all the obviousness it presents.

“And what the ever-loving fuck do we do?” he asks, head falling to his hands as his heart rate picks up.

Unsure of what else to do, you take his face in your hands and turn him to face you. Your eyes lock with his, and you search them for every emotion inside, layered and battling. Eventually as you hold his gaze, trust wins over... underlined by lust, and love clouding it all.

As casually as you can, you brush a kiss to his temple, his nose, his lips, and let an easy smirk overtake you. “We watch it burn.”

#tom hiddleston #thomas william hiddleston #twh #twhiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston blurb #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston characters #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston x f reader #tom hiddleston x fem reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston drabble #tom hiddleston imagine

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smolvenger · 6 months

Text

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Seven (Loki x fem! Reader, Hiddlesverse A Court of Thorns and Roses Crossover AU)

Word Count: 9K

Series Summary: Inspired by A Court of Thorns and Roses with the Tom Hiddleston characters. As you lay dying of consumption, You make a deal with Loki to heal you in exchange for staying with him every month. You are whisked to a world full of magic...and danger.

Warnings: Discussions of cheating (Not Loki, he'd never) and sex and death.

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

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @fandxmslxt69 (can't believe I almost forgot to tag you! But now tumblr is functioning and I can tag you🫡!)

Chapter One//Chapter Two//Chapter Three//Chapter Four//Chapter Five//Chapter Six

The next week, it was announced that Lady Sif agreed to train you.

You had butterflies in your stomach walking into the room on the training room. It was normally used for Asgard’s soldiers and guards, but anyone was free to have it when needed. Loki’s clever lies to his parents were that he wanted the mortal guests to take advantage of the opportunities of exercise here to pass the time. He was with you when you walked out for one-on-one training with Lady Sif. Hal and Robert were the ones behind. Jonathan was going to go through the city to gather information about Grendel. Thomas had to be in his workshop, studying the designs of daggers.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see another woman rechecking her gear and clothes on the floor. One who wasn't you. In your sportswear, you suddenly felt incredibly overdressed. Her shirt had such short sleeves! You could see all of her arms and she was wearing trousers! Leather ones with daggers sheathed at the sides! But was still every bit as beautiful if she wore a gown. Pale skin and long dark hair with piercing, blue eyes. She could have been Loki’s long-lost sister.

Sister…you remembered the Prophet’s words. The blue skin and red eyes…why…he was a “son”? But no- now was not the time to ask. Especially as training was starting to begin.

She put strands of cloth around her hands. They looked like fingerless gloves, the kind that Jonathan and Robert would make when they sparred. She flexed her white fingers and checked the tightness. She muttered something and then looked up at you.

“Oh! Are you-”

“I am Y/N, it is nice to meet you,” you introduced with a curtsy out of habit.

“Why, dear Sif! Glad you are here!” Loki greeted.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked. The Trickster god gave another of his theatrical gestures towards her.

“This is the enchanting Sif. She was the first-ever female warrior here in Asgard! When they all said maidens could not fight- she was the first to prove them wrong!” Loki boasted.

Sif flared her nostrils, but she kept a half-smile.

“Eh, give or take a few thousand years,” she replied.

She turned to the two others, cocking an eyebrow.

“And who are these men?” she asked.

Loki gestured to the guests.

“Why- this is his grace, Prince Hal…”

Hal made a gallant bow.

“And this- this is Robert Laing…” Loki continued.

“Oh- Doctor! Doctor Laing- Earned the degree ,” he said with a lick of his lips. He adjusted his tie on his suit. He could wear one since he was not training now.

Sif dropped her smile.

“Oh- and how do those studies prove you’re better than anyone else?” she questioned him.

“Just wait until you’re the one bleeding out half to death,” Laing retorted with his grin still on her.

Sif shot him a glare.

“I don’t bleed. I make others bleed,” she replied.

There was a sudden chill in the room. Robert backed down and Hal chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Hmm- we have talked quite a bit. Well, let’s begin-” she announced. “Get a practice sword.”

In the corner, there were wooden poles and then there were normal swords. You nodded and grabbed a pole that was stationed and ready.

“No, Y/N! The ones with blades!” she requested.

Oh dear. That’s different. You had yet to try fighting with actual swords. You nervously took one and got it out, unsheathing it with a schliiiiiiick sound. You swallowed heavily as Sif easily grabbed the one next to you. You weighed it in your hand, watching the end of that blade and how many lives, even your own, could be ended with it.

“I see the look on your face. Do you want to be a warrior? You must learn to fight with a real weapon. You have to be ready, Y/N.” she said.

“Alright…it’s only new…” you said though it was only half your voice.

You walked out into the middle of the floor. The three men stood by the sides with some chairs to watch you both. Hal, the expert on swords too, watched with an examining eye. Robert folded his arms. Loki rested a hand on his chin as he folded his arms.

“Alright now parry-” Sif ordered.

You parried- moving the sword forward as she threw hers down in a heartbeat. You jumped a little from the impact. There was the sharp sound of the blades colliding that rang through your ears.

“Decent. Now don’t think too hard mortal lady- just act,” Sif instructed.

She thrust her sword forward. You managed to block it by raising yours impulsively. She was fast and aggressive. When you tried to move forward she would find a weak point and raise it to you. Then you would jump back. You kept fleeing from her, dodging her. Blocking her constant, attacks, your feet shuffling further back. Would she even give you a second to attack her? You backed up from her constant parries. Her attacks were forward and your defenses backward until your back foot grazed a wall. It then hit you- she has backed you into a corner.

“I’m not sure if you’re training or if Lady Sif wants another fight to win!” Robert quipped.

Sif’s eyes turned towards the doctor, gritting her bared teeth.

In a swift second, Sif reached into the side of her pants. She pulled out a small dagger. She looked at Robert and hurled it towards him. The three ducked out of the way. As Robert moved, it landed on the wall next to him, barely grazing his cheek. His eyes were wide and his face pink- as if he couldn’t tell if he hated this or actually secretly enjoyed it.

You tried to wiggle out, think of a next move as Sif was distracted. Then- a feeling hit you. An odd feeling.

You could sense her. Sense her movement. Sense the movement of everyone. You felt their footprints- where they were. You could sense how many swords and poles were nearby. Everyone’s heartbeat. The other dagger in Sif’s pocket. The guards outside the door. You could feel the feet shuffling in the halls in the next room. As if you were asleep and now awake. You felt your head spin a little and put your free hand to your forehead.

“Sif, I feel…I feel a little odd…” you remarked.

Her feet rumbled as you sensed her right before you and raised her sword in your direction.

“Now- Y/N…what do you do?” she asked, raising your sword. It was right before your face. You backed further up to the wall.

“I…I don’t know!” you confessed.

Sif kept her eyes on you and her sword still pointed at you. You tried to swipe hers away, but she countered it and thrust again forward. You raised the sword up to block it. She pushed forward and you backward. The blades slicing against each other.

“Come on- focus. Hesitation is when the enemy will gut you open-”

“I really don’t!” you cried.

“Come on! What’s your first instinct, mortal?!” Sif urged.

You couldn’t think straight. Only the humiliation of your defeat weighing on you. And the hotness of the room, the smells, and the rumbling of feet as someone walked in the next hall. It was too much, too much. In a wave of emotion, you pushed your sword in front of you to her on impulse with a slight shout. Sif snorted, raising an eyebrow at the weapon you stabbed forward.

You felt everything get white hot inside you. The feeling began at the top of your head and waved down to your hands- then to the sword

“Decent, but-”

It happened in a matter of seconds- so fast, you barely processed it.

Fire shot out. It shot out of your hands and through the sword until it blazed before Sif.

Sif let out a scream of surprise and backed off. Her sword jumped out of her hands and skittered across the floor. Still, the fire kept burning, blazing. Everyone jumped at the sight of it.

“Why…what…what is this?! What is going on?” Sif cried. The fire added another thing of heat to the room and its crackling was the only sound for a second.

It then stopped. But the air still felt scorched and warm. It smelt of sulfur. When you checked the sword, it was partially burnt. You dropped it and checked your hands. Little twinges of flame jumped from it. But your skin was unhurt. Then they slowed down and they were as normal, the small star winking at you.

“I…I don’t know- I don’t. I’m sorry, Sif.” you explained.

Sif regained her composure.

“The enemy is surprised, that’s good. Now what do you do- Y/N!? The enemy is surprised and unarmed. Don’t hesitate!”

As you thrust the partially burnt sword forward, Sif jumped back. Her eyes went to the sword she dropped. She reached for it.

With a bit of shock, you felt that sensation again- focusing on that little practice sword of Sif’s. The white-hot buzzing. Something else poured out - almost like a breath. A whiff of energy.

The sword skittered across the floor, unmoved. Far from Sif.

There was utter silence for a second. The men all stood up with astonished looks on their face. Sif dropped her jaw and turned to you.

“Loki- is this another trick?” she asked.

He shook his head and shrugged.

“No…it seems as if…this was none other than our dear Mortal ladies doing…and there’s only one explanation….magic,” he answered, eyes scanning over every detail of the room and the sword.

You felt dizzy again. You set aside your sword, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, making you uneasy.

“I’m so sorry but it’s…it’s never…never happened before…” you blubbered out. Now the source of all the attention. Like a child called out for trouble in school before her entire class.

Sif urged the men to come over.

“Training is done. Please get the queen- she has something in her. It needs to be checked. Now!” she demanded.

At once, all of you hurried to Frigga in her chambers. She was enjoying the view from her balcony when she turned her head.

“Mother- hurry- we must talk! About our mortal girl-” Loki insisted.

She walked inside and sat down gracefully on a chair. In brief, all of you told her of what happened.

“Why…magic? Our Y/N?” she gasped.

You nodded. She then reached forward and took your hands. She studied the star marks, tracing them with her finger, her eyes bulging wide as she really took it in. She then turned upward, her eyebrows crossed. Her voice dropped to a sharp, strict tone.

“Loki…there is only one spell that leaves a mark like that. Why is Y/N here? Not just out of the goodness of your heart? How did you meet her? Was she hurt or sick?” she asked.

“Yes. Dying, in fact.” Loki reported.

Frigga’s lips tightened.

“And you used that spell?” she asked.

“Yes, I did.” the prince admitted.

“My son, did you read everything the book said about it.”

Loki shrugged. He put on his uneasy, half-laughing smile where only part of a chuckle escaped.

“Only the parts that were important!”

She gave him a stern look.

“That I…thought were important,” Loki admitted. Smile dropping, he folded his hands and looked down, red with embarrassment. For no child was immune to a scolding from their mother, even gods.

“Including the bargain to seal it?” she asked.

“Yes, mother.”

She let out a deep sigh. Then she walked to her bookshelf. She got out a large, ancient book bound in worn, tan leather. She moved it to her desk and flipped through the pages. Finding what she was looking for, she stopped at one. She read quietly for a minute and then looked at you.

“You have Prince Loki to thank for this, Y/N. This spell…since the magic must go inside the person to heal them, it never leaves. In short, you now have magic, my dear,” she announced.

“Oh…oh dear god!” you gasped, moving a hand to your mouth. Glad at least flames did not burst out to burn your face.

“Why, I do like to be called a dear, thank you,” Loki smirked. You gave him a look.

“This is not a joking matter!” you retorted to him.

Frigga folded her hands. Sif, Hal, and Robert all stood watching like they were the audience of a rather suspenseful play.

“Anything else? Other than what happened at training?” the queen questioned.

“I…I’ve had dreams of the future- possible futures…” you explained.

Your mind drifted back to Stella. The dream you had of her future suicide attempt. You did everything you could you took comfort in one fact. She made you a promise and Stella would always honor her promises. You wrote to her regularly as you did your parents, sending Thomas to deliver the letters and head back. Like she said, if she was engaged, you would know. Her letters were not of proposals, definitely, not of any men she had her eye on. They were of the ordinary daily life- visits, occasional dances, farmers with their crops, fishermen with their fish, the most tantalizing piece of news that a small town could offer. She was wise not to discuss what was happening at church with you. But no engagements, at least not for her. Perhaps her tragic future was avoided by now.

Frigga checked the book and tapped her finger on the page.

“It says right there- visions of the possible futures. Occasional-usually in dreams. And have you ever sensed someone near you- far away? Sensed everything around you? Their actions?”

You nodded.

“Yes. It happened today with Sif,” you confirmed.

Frigga looked at her son and then back at you.

“Have voices appeared in your head?” she asked.

“One specific voice,” you answered. “Loki’s.”

“I’m not surprised. Do you hear her thoughts too?” she asked Loki.

He folded his arms and lifted his chin a little.

“As clearly as I hear your words, Mother. Even when I was in Asgard and she in Midgard,” he answered.

Frigga turned a page, her finger gliding down as she found a paragraph.

“Here it is listed- the thoughts of the one who cast the spell and the one healed are linked in their minds….” she read aloud.

She scanned the rest of it, then closed the book. But she went to you, touching your cheek sweetly.

“It could be worse. But this is a mere symptom of the spell. You will learn how to live with it.” she said.

“How? I don’t want to…to…hurt anyone!” you replied.

Frigga softened her face at your words.

“Oh, of course not! Do not blame yourself! No one has been hurt! You see…”

Her eyes turned to Loki with a small smile.

“My son should be the one to help you,” she suggested.

Loki’s jaw dropped and he took a step forward.

“Help her? You’re the expert on magic- why can’t you do it?” he asked.

“My dear boy, you were the one who chose to do the spell on her. And you will face the consequences for it rather than running away,” she explained.

He put his hands on his hips and he opened his mouth to say something, then he closed. Frigga kept a smile as she looked between the two of you. Loki swallowed his Adam’s apple bobbing. You exchanged a look, then he turned to her.

“Alright- then…then I will,” he said.

Frigga clapped her hands together with a smile.

“Good- begin tomorrow with the mind reading. It can be done to where two can speak to each other seamlessly would rather it be clear than disruptive. Now-dear Lady Sif, Hal, Robert- I am so sorry I haven’t spoken with all of you. I’ve been busy. How are all of you? Let’s call for some wine and a little bite to eat before dinner as we all chat, shall we?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was when you woke up the next morning that it hit you. You were no longer some ordinary “mortal” woman. No- now you had powers! To think, if you could go back in time and tell yourself as a child, what would she think! Not to mention, what would everyone back home think of a woman who actually had powers by accident? Oh, they would all scream in terror if a flame shot out of your hands. Secretly, you were thrilled. As if winning some luck of the draw.

You walked outside to the gardens. It was right at the start of the afternoon when the sun was the most warm. It wasn’t usually when you liked to walk outside due to the heat, but you wanted to test your newfound abilities. To see if you could figure anything out. You decided to head There was a middle valley in the palace garden grounds. A small grassy part amidst some hydrangea bushes with no trees for shade.

There were many things you expected to walk into the garden to see. The buds open. Gardeners digging holes. Little bugs about the dirt. Pleasant, familiar, comfortable things.

You weren’t expecting to see a naked man.

Pale, and muscular with ripped abdominals and strong biceps despite his lean frame lying down on a bench. A towel on his head and a book over his crotch. They were the only thing on him.

Ripped with shock, you let out a scream on instinct. To your increased horror, he got up the book shifted. You let out another shout and shielded your eyes with your arm. You thought you would see…that part of a man on your wedding night! Not unwarned and unwanted in a garden!

But he scrambled up and set the towel and book over the most offending part of his body. When you peeked up, his hair had a redder sheen, and though he was in the sun he was pale. But you had to admit you did like the sight of all the muscles on him.

“Hello there!” Robert nervously chuckled.

“What on earth are you doing?!” you cried. Your eyes trying very hard to focus on his face.

“Uh- I just- I’m sunbathing! And I fell asleep!”

“People-people really sunbathe in the future in their free time?!” you questioned.

“Well, uh, yes,” Robert replied.

“Bare naked as a babe?!”

“Also yes.”

“Have you gone mad, Robert!?” you cried.

“Not for a month!”

You took a step back, Robert noting the look on your face. He blushed with embarrassment.

“I am so immediately sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know you would be here! I’ll try to keep it in my room. I’ll talk to Loki. Ask him to conjure a-a-a-sun tan machine or something.” he tried to compromise. His feet started to shuffle to the bushes as if he were Adam after devouring the apple.

“People make machines for sun tans?!” you asked.

“Oh, they do! I’ll tell you- my- my robe is near this rose bush-give me a minute…”

He leaned in and got it. You turned away as he put the white, cloth robe over himself. The electricity of the shock still running through you.

“Alright, Y/N, I’m decent!” he announced.

You turned around. Robert tied a knot of the cloth around his waist.

“Sunbathing naked?! Goodness-and did you say…are you sure you’re not still mad?!” you cried.

Robert froze. The joking smile on his face dropped from the embarrassed, cheeky smile.

“I’m not,” he replied sternly.

He took a step towards you, his voice serious.

“Please, don’t bring it up with the others. I don’t like other people discussing it.”

Shame flooded your system.

“Oh-I…I am so sorry…I…I didn’t know…” you apologized, feeling your shoulders slump.

He gathered the towel and book in his hands.

“Well…now you do…Y/N, I….I…I’ll go to my room now,” the no-longer-madman said as he walked out.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Loki did not take you at once into either the indoor or outdoor training grounds. Instead, both of you merely went to a table in a dining hall. He plopped down, his smile never leaving his face as he looked at you. You were dressed in a white day dress with little pink dots all over it, moving your skirt as always so you could sit down on the chair. No one else was around to witness this, only the two of you.

“Well then- to start. Let’s practice the whole thought business!” he announced.

“Aren’t you scared I will scorch the table?” you asked.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with a shrug.

“Why should it be? Tables can be replaced, but not you. And I’ve been able to access your own thoughts quite easily for a while. We both know that by now. You should learn how to send them and block mine. Unless you want to hear my voice in your ears to lull you to sweet dreams at night. I will be happy to oblige.”

You gave him a scowl.

“You’re a scoundrel,” you responded.

“Always have been and will be,” he replied with a smile.

You looked forward at him. You folded your hands on your lap. It was a nice dining hall. Right near an open balcony with tall columns of marble around you. The bright sunlight shone down as it overlooked the skyline of Asgard.

“All right- I’m going to send my thoughts out. To you. I will make them clear.” Loki announced.

Then there was nothing. You heard nothing. You felt the rustle of the bustle on the back of your skirt as you leaned back in the chair.

With a deep breath, you heard Loki’s voice in your head.

“Hello there, Y/N. It’s another lovely day here in Asgard. Wouldn’t it funny if I snipped off a bit of Sif’s hair when she isn’t looking!”

“Don’t do that! It’s mean! And she will scream at you!” you thought back.

He made a gesture with his hands and spoke out loud.

“There you go! That’s far better! You hear mine- I hear yours!” he announced. “All because you let me in, my dear. I read it in the book.”

“What else did it say?” you asked, moving your hands to touch the table. It was long and wooden, carved with ancient runes. You nervously traced one with your fingernail.

“Your thoughts are an instrument one can never stop playing. Only you may play them loudly or quietly. But one can muffle out the music of another., Y/N. Now- try to block out my thoughts to you.”

With a deep breath, you clenched your body. Willing the invisible thoughts of his to not enter your own head.

“Not working.” Loki’s voice replied in your head.

You let out a huff of air through your nostrils.

“How does one block it?” you questioned him.

Loki slightly tucked his chin.

“Hmmm, yes, I see how stiff you are holding yourself, your body. And this time I know it’s not because of this ‘bustle’ thing. Blocking does not mean bracing oneself- body or mind. Think of it like…like a shield…try to put a shield out. Imagine one. And relax a little.” he guided.

You imagined a shield. You saw many among the guards of Asgard. Tall, circular, and bronze. You imagined it up against you, protecting you, bundling up inside it. Warm and safe. Loki let out another small breath. He sat forward on the chair, leaning an elbow on it. His hand touching his chin and grinning. You braced for his voice in your head again.

But the shield worked. You didn’t hear one of his. There was nothing. Finally! Your physical training was slow, but at least that was one thing you could get right!

You imagined lowering it down. Sure enough, there were thoughts of

“Y/N, the dress you have on today looks quite lovely, especially when the sunlight hits it.”

A little flutter began in your stomach. You couldn’t give into his flatter, no. You sent out another one, looking into his blue eyes. One of a pair of many you learned to get used to.

“Trying to recover yourself over the remark about my breasts?” you thought back.

He dropped his smile, lowering his head.

“I apologize. I knew it would rile you- get you to fight back.”

“Thank you for acknowledging that, Loki. You have quite the presumptuous nature- I’ve figured that out so far.”

Then there was no reply. You heard no thoughts. You tried to send something out to him, but there was nothing for a minute. Then two. Then three. You blinked and tried to send it out.

“Loki? Loki-what-”

He waved open with his hands and spoke aloud.

“See, Y/N- now my shield was up. Let’s try this little back and forth, shall we?” he asked.

It went on like tennis. It was shaky- but at least you had a hand at it. It was a start.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The day came to announce the heir. It was all heralded that morning so quickly, that there wasn’t time to process it. It was the gatekeeper, Heimdall, who resounded it out before the city balcony. All of you standing in the back room as he looked down upon the people. Heimdall smiled at them and then announced with his rich, sonorous voice to all.

“Odin has named Thor as his heir! Prepare for the ceremony later today at sunset!”

When you looked for Loki, he immediately left the room. Thor smiled wide before servants ushered him out the other door.

There was so much bustle, servants running to and fro, platters of food delivered from the kitchen, your head spun. And Thor was never seen to discuss this. And not Loki either. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Thor to be happy. But…you knew today was going to be hard for the younger brother. Yes, Loki was cheeky and arrogant and flirted to get what he wanted and fond of getting into trouble- but you had to admit…you felt bad for him today.

The ceremony began as promised at sunset. You were astounded to see so many people about to watch. To think this many people lived in Asgard! Were they gods too? Mortals like you who just lived in a different world? Curiosity bubbled inside you. You were just used to your plain little life in a plain little town where every house was white and you saw the same faces daily. But here- there was life. Excitement. Not even London, you imagined, had this much of a crowd for anything. They crowded around. They gathered around the large, open space before the throne with a walkway.

Everyone dressed for the occasion. Odin wore his silver armor and winged helmet, his eye patch seemed to gleam like a jewel. Frigga was beautiful in her golden dress, with a smile on her face. Loki stood in his deep green with his large, horned helmet. You were in your own russet velvet dress for parties. Jonathan wore his blue suit and Robert his grey one. Hal was dashing in dark velvet, his curls combed back. Thomas was in his black suit, the bronze chain of a pocket watch sticking out across his stomach. Sif herself remained in her armor but was placed to stand near the throne with the other Asgardian warriors.

“Let us now raise a cheer for my son- your future king, Thor!!” Odin announced.

Thor was brought down on a chariot, wielding a large hammer. His large red cape and long blonde hair flew in the wind. He had a giant smile as he showed it his hammer. The crowd roared for their future king. Everyone was smiling. Everyone…except the younger brother of the future king.

You looked over at Loki. His hands folded before him, the usually mischievous gleam in his eyes dimmed. He seemed far away, small, and alone.

“Loki…how are you? What are you thinking? You can tell me…” you sent your thoughts out.

There was no response.

You couldn’t bother with Hal and Sif trying to outdrink each other at the banquet after. Robert kept trying to flirt with her and she told him to bother off, only she didn’t say the word “bother.” The doctor backed away, hands up in defense. Thomas and Jonathan sat next to each other at the meal. It was hardly a wonder so many Asgardian women made their eyes toward the two handsome men. Many maids offered to refill their goblets with batting eyelashes. Jonathan was polite to them, but never seemed to return their attention. Thomas was a different matter, however. He was smiling, chatting, and charming all of them. Thor was at the center, telling stories and laughing as people lauded their upcoming ruler.

But you had no interest in the celebration going on in the hall. There was one gentleman in green who was missing from all this.

You felt your sensation again. Despite the rumble of everyone’s food digesting, you felt Loki’s presence. Locating him easily. So you got up, going to the stone walkway in the next room. The cool air of the night washing over you. Seeing Loki in a marble corner, staring out at the city. He only looked out at the window at the starry sky and two moons shining through the window. He jumped a little when he turned and saw you.

“I’m not surprised….” he said.

“But it’s still disappointing…” you acknowledged.

He let out a deep breath. You heard Thor’s large laughter from the other end of the hall. God of Thunder suited him- everything about him was thunderous.

“I’m so sorry, Loki…you would have made a decent king,” you tried to console.

He arched up a dark eyebrow.

“Really? Me?” Loki asked. He seemed surprised, not like the other side of him that would say he knew. He turned around to look you in the eye.

You nodded.

“Yes- you would have. You took pity on a dying woman and offered to heal her. You comforted her when her heart was broken. You’re teaching me how to control my magic. You’re planning a quest to defeat a villain to protect others. You…you sent Hal after me. And I hear Robert had...”

You stopped your words. You suddenly remembered Robert asked you not to discuss the time he went mad.

“A…a hard time…” you finished.

Loki gestured with you to walk back to the dining hall. His eyes drifted towards the Baronet in black smiling as a maid refilled his jug for the third time.

“Oh, if you think Robert had a hard time, wait until you find out where Thomas came from,” he replied.

‘Thomas?” you asked.

From the smile, you saw Thomas pull out a small contraption for the maid. It was a music box that could fit in the pocket. The maid turned the knob, grinning to reveal its trickling tune. The maid laughed in delight. One would never guess he ever had a “hard time” at any point in his life.

You turned your focus back to Loki.

“But you are suffering too. Don’t let Odin or a throne determine your worth. We all appreciate you,” you said.

There was some music in the back and people raised their goblets. Many gulped it down and threw it on the floor, crying “Another!” You jumped a little at the sound of so many cups crashing on the floor at once.

“Appreciation won’t make me a hero…or Thor’s equal…” he replied as he walked off.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You couldn’t fall asleep that night. Your heart was still breaking from the last line with Loki. He felt invisible. Unwanted. And it felt like there was nothing you could do about it. Wasn’t there a compromise? Why couldn’t there be two kings or couldn’t the kingdom be divided?

Then there were the thoughts that shot out of you. Thoughts you tried to stifle. Memories you tried to stifle. But stifling them only made them stronger when they arrived. Memories of home. The letters, the field, the white shirt, the-

No, you had to distract yourself. Not dwell. It would only make you miserable. It looks like you would have to ask for the sleeping potion again. You got out of bed, wrapping a pink shawl around your nightgown for warmth, out you went into the halls. Perhaps it would be in the kitchens or you could ask a servant. Your bare feet touched the cold stone beneath, making you shiver.

Then- there was a noise. A shuffling. Your powerful sensing was warning you. Someone was up-about. You turned around to look. No one. As you kept walking, you kept swearing you heard footsteps. Then a breath.

There was someone up and close by. Awake. It wasn’t a servant.

Oh no- could it be a spy from Grendel!? You were going to scream, use what you could. Try to move something- you feel someone there. You felt your hands grip your shawl tighter. You were unarmed- could you somehow summon flames again? Make something move? Frantically looking around, frozen with fear.

Before you could even budge, out from the darkness, Jonathan Pine appeared. He put a hand before you to silence the idea of a scream. He put a hand before his face to shush you.

Like…like…like he would, like what Will would do- no! Y/N, don’t dwell on him. It’s over! you thought. The thought then slipped away in a second. You felt yourself relax knowing it was not a spy from Grendel.

“Shhh- Y/N! It’s okay! I’m here!” Jonathan whispered.

“You scared me to death!” you hissed back, placing a hand over your slowing heart.

“I’m sorry. It’s part of my duties.” Jonathan explained.

“Duties?!” you asked, with a tilt of your head.

“Remember, I’m Loki’s spymaster. I am again- so very sorry about the scare. I’ll make it up to you. Let me take you downstairs- get you something to drink. Does that sound nice?” he asked.

“Yes, yes it does, Jonathan.”

Down you went to the kitchens of Asgard. They weren’t accustomed to tea as much. But they did have wine. And still whole bottles of the special wine that was made for the banquet today. He located two glasses and poured you both some of the red liquid. He handed it over to you.

“How did you become Loki’s spymaster? I’m curious…” you asked.

He paused. He leaned back against the counter, the glass in one hand.

“I…I’ve never talked about it much…but…I’ll tell you,” he said.

He set down his glass on the counter and then turned to look right at you.

“Y/N- you know I’m a soldier…” he began.

“Yes, I do,” you recalled.

You took a sip of the Asgardian wine-rich and dry in its flavor. Jonathan left his abandoned. You his lips tightened, and then in took in a slow breath. His voice was soft, earnest.

“I never had a family all of my life. I lost my parents. Grew up drifting in foster homes around England. The army at least was stable. It felt like I had a permanent family of my own. At first. But…but…the things I’ve seen…the things I was ordered to do…it was too much.”

He shook his short, blonde head.

“After it was done, I had to honorably leave the military. Start anew. I ended up living in Cairo, Egypt.”

“Egypt?! That sounds incredible!” you cut in. How different and far from England! It must have been hot, but he would have seen the pyramids every day!

He bobbed his head in acknowledgment. His eyes soft at your brief excitement.

“It was, Y/N. I worked at a hotel for their night shifts. Then was promoted to manager. That at least gave me something stable. A routine. It was a hotel owned by a gentleman named Freddie Hamid. Then one night…there was a woman who checked in. And this woman was his mistress…”

He looked at your face to observe your reaction. Back home, such things weren’t discussed so openly. But you swallowed the little bit of shock.

Jonathan’s features softened. And his voice became softer, sweeter.

“Her name was Sophie…but her real name was Samira. She liked expensive clothes and coffee. She drank when she was stressed. She was chatty. She had a dog she carried everywhere. She loved to flirt with the staff- even me.”

This was far different, far more vulnerable and tender than you have ever seen Jonathan.

“Did you love her?” you asked.

After a pause, he answered.

“Yes. Yes, I did. I loved her. And she loved me too. Just for that brief time, I loved her.”

“Brief? How come?” you asked.

There was one possible explanation for why. And it wasn’t good. There was a sudden heaviness in the air as he paused. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked down on the floor. Then back at you as he continued.

“Sophie had documents with her. She handed it to me to make copies, but I saw them. Proof that Freddie and his friend, Richard Roper, had access to weapons. Destructive, powerful weapons. Bombs that would wipe out entire cities. Weapons only the army should own. So I alerted the authorities. Freddie found out and beat Sophie… I discovered he and his men were capable of doing more. She was in danger. Now that it was out, she was a target. They were going to kill her- because of something I did. I begged her forgiveness, and she said she would have reported it had she been braver. She asked me for help. So…I hid her. Took her somewhere far away…made sure she was safe…I wanted to whisk her far away. To England…”

He hunched his shoulders.

“Those authorities said she would never be safe in England. That Roper had friends there. That returning her to the hotel was the best option. To curb suspicion. She returned with her head high, confident, and smiling as she checked into her suite. I went to work. I carried about my shift like normal. Then I got word from someone…she was in danger. But when I ran into the room…it was too late….there was…was…she was killed-her blood everywhere…”

A hand flew over your mouth.

“Poor Sophie!” you gasped.

“It never left me. She never left me. She always haunted me…and she always might. The fact I brought her to death, I…I did…She would…would blame me, she probably did in her last moments…”

“But she told you herself that she didn’t resent you for the documents! That she would do the same as you! I…I don’t know if she would…you didn’t beat her like…like her….like Freddie! You were kind to her. You tried to protect her!” you commented, trying to comfort him.

He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white.

“Then one day…the British authorities spoke to me. Asked me to help in an operation to bring Roper and his allies down. So…I decided to become a spy to avenge her.”

It was hard, I won’t bore you with the details. But to be brief, I did it. I infiltrated him. Brought him down. I killed Freddie myself- drowned him in his own pool.”

You felt your eyes widen.

“I caught Roper and destroyed his stock. Caught him red-handed and brought him to the government. He ended up in jail, executed for his crimes.”

“How is it you managed to defeat Roper?” you asked.

You found that he smiled, both with his eyes and his smile. It was a smooth, handsome smile. He was elegant so easily and naturally.

“Sheer determination and thorough thinking. That is what will get you through anything, Y/N.”

He put his hands in his pockets.

“And after that, it was done… Loki arrived to me. Told me that he was a copy of me from another timeline, another life. Asked me to be a spy for him. Fight Grendel with him. I had no home. No family. Not even a woman. Not since…since Sophie, no. Nothing to return to…so I have nothing to lose. That’s why I’m here- where I can be useful.”

You cupped your wine glass with both hands.

“That’s quite a story, Jonathan!” you remarked.

You took a step closer. His eyes were still glossy from mentioning her again.

“Jonathan…if Sophie were here…I think she’d be proud of you. For what you did. For avenging her…now that it’s done, and if she can’t be here for you…she’d want you to be at peace,” you consoled him.

His blue eyes shone a little bit, his chest rising and falling with his breaths.

“Thank you, Y/N. If we survive, I hope I can be. I want to live a normal, peaceful life after this. No battles. No bloodshed. Just a quiet, normal life. I want to become a husband. A father. And not worry about anyone getting killed- just love my wife. Love my child. And pour all that love so they will never have to suffer what I did.”

A hand flew over your heart, and you felt your lips curve to a smile.

“That’s beautiful…I hope you do. If we’re careful…that could be your life, I know it.” you said.

He went back and got his wine glass, taking a careful sip. He kept it in his hand as he escorted you back to your room. Finishing your drink, and reflecting on Jonathan’s story, you fell right asleep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Two days later, Loki brought you again to that wide training ground on the inside. He made no mention of the ceremony. In fact, there was a bounce in his step as you went with him into that room with just you two.

“Alright YN-let’s practice those other little gifts of yours! Starting with the sensing and tossing things around with your pretty little head!” he announced.

You rolled up your sleeves. He pointed at a red X that appeared on the floor with his magic.

“Stay put on this,” he required.

You stepped over it. He conjured a wooden pole and set it several feet before you on the ground.

“Now- move it without touching it,” he instructed.

You concentrated on the pole. Squinted hard. Your body clenched- but nothing happened. Move little pole, please, come on, move- just an inch, please, please please- you urged silently.

Loki raised up a finger and your glance moved up to meet him.

“Ah, I see. You’re trying to force it! Sometimes forcing it will result in nothing- just allow it happen. As you are- breathe into it!” he advised.

You relaxed your body and returned your focus to the pole. Not losing sight of it, but you released your hand to your sides. It began to twitch a little.

Move, you merely thought.

It rolled right to you like a blast of wind. You caught it with your foot, rolling it carefully. You felt yourself smile in triumph. Loki raised an eyebrow, and he smiled.

“Not bad- now turn around, Y/N,” he instructed.

You went around and to your shock, you saw Loki again staying right by a wall. A green door appeared on the wall that wasn’t there before. You turned your head to confirm Loki there behind you- but another Loki in front of you! You didn’t hear him run, but you turned around. There were two of them?!?!

“You have a twin brother?” you asked nervously.

“Oh no- my magic can make duplicates,” he explained.

One could imagine the sorts of trouble he could get into with that trick! The duplicate Loki gestured to the door and you stepped towards it.

“Now- what do you sense is behind that door?” the duplicate asked,, his smooth, baritone ringing across the room.

You did sense something behind it. You could see its outline in your mind. It was tall, thin, and long in shape. It had a sharp point and a handle. Then a picture in your head emerged.

“It’s a…a…a sword,” you answered.

“That is right. The door is locked. Unlock and open it. Then get the sword,” he challenged you.

You concentrated on the doorknob. Relaxing your body and looking at nothing else. It fidgeted. It shook. But it didn’t open. You tried again, but it failed again. Letting out a huff of frustration, you then looked at the keyhole- sensing how it was kept locked. How the gears were turned to seal it.

“Now- unlock,” you requested.

The little gears turned and there was a click. Then the door squeaked open. It revealed a dark room with no furniture or decorations. The light from the training room poured out to it- revealing the sword right on the floor before you.

“Now wield the sword near you without touching it!” you heard the duplicate instruct.

You concentrated, poking at it with your mind. Bringing it to move. Yet it did not. It stayed there. Dull and solid. When you really willed, it budged forward. Then it stayed put.

“Dammit!” you cursed beneath your breath. “Just move to me!”

The light from the windows shining through stopped as if someone drew a curtain over them. Turning, you felt the frustration boiling in you as more grey clouds covered the sky. And out of nowhere for an idyllic, sunny day! The god looked up with an easy smile, laughter in his voice.

“Well, Y/N- you definitely did that! IT didn’t move the sword, but it did move the natural elements! Another effect you may thank me for!”

You felt yourself unclench, your shoulders lowering. The clouds rolled away quickly and there was sunshine again. You saw how if you focused on the light shining on the floor. Curiosity crept inside you. When you willed it, the light stretched towards your feet. Like the waves of the ocean when it would cradle and creep softly right before your toes.

“So your mother taught you?” you asked him.

The duplicate vanished into a bit of golden mist. You turned around to Loki and walked closer to him. He nodded his raven head.

“Yes, she did, since I was small. I remember she’d start with little tricks. Like…like this one here…”

He opened his hand and out came little fireworks. Bright flashes of red, pink, yellow, and blue flying up and exploding into beautiful sparkles from over his hand. You gasped, admiring the bright colors. It was so sweet, so delicate, so lovely. So unlike the portrait of the devious trickster god who called himself anything but a wanted hero.

“Loki, that’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, smiling in delight.

He gave you a smile back. You admired the show as it went on and then it faded away. He folded his palm.

“It’s all a matter of practice- and it will be like swimming to you soon,” he said.

“I just hope so. It will have to be if I’m to fight Grendel….” you sighed.

“You will- just give yourself time.”

“Do we have time?” was something you wanted to ask. But you did not. You merely focused again on the sword, trying to get it to slide to you. It did not.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a nice rhythmic routine of your new life in Asgard- training so much in both body and magic. Even if it meant you were almost, always a little sore. Dining with these new people you had to call friends. Even Sif, despite her intense training sessions and sarcastic remarks every time she spoke. There was no report of any progress on Grendel. No news was good news, as the saying goes. It just left you more time to be prepared. It was hard to believe a month had passed by. In fact, you could hardly believe it when Thomas arrived one morning at breakfast.

“Forgive the intrusion, Miss Y/N, but I came to get your mail from home. Your parents begged me to send this over to you,” the baronet announced, handing you a letter. You opened it and read aloud.

“Dear Y/N,

We have not seen you in a long time. Please return home. Just for a little.

All our love,

Your mother and father.”

You folded it in your hands. It was Loki and his variants who sat a the table, all looking at you dumbfounded.

“Do you think you can visit back, my lady? I wonder if you still are sad concerning your betrothal,” Hal said.

“I don’t know if I can bear it alone….” you commented. The others looked at you and each other.

“I doubt I would be much welcome after that wedding fiasco,” Loki commented.

Jonathan stood up from his table.

“I will go with her. Y/N will not have to face it alone…” he volunteered.

You gave him a thanks as both of you beheld the portal to take you back. Trusting that you could alert Loki with your mind when you were ready to return. Just a bit of magic, the flash of rainbow colors bursting over you and the spy.

In a second, you both were right at the front door of your home. You knocked and were let in immediately. Sitting in the living room having an uneasy tea. They passed a plate of biscuits to Jonathan. He took a bite, keeping an uneasy smile on his face. A few crumbs fell on his pants which he wiped off. You felt your parents staring at the clothes from his time. Suppressing questions out of politeness. You only had one bite of your own biscuit, which tasted stale and bland. Looking over, you saw that the flowers in the vase on the table in the kitchen hadn’t changed since the would-be wedding. Shriveled, wilted, and dead.

“Now….Y/N, what is going on?” your mother asked.

“I am staying in Asgard. There is a great threat. A villain- he’s trying to invade. We are doing what we can to defeat him,” you explained plain and simple.

“When will you return home? Please, Y/N,” she begged.

“I don’t know, mama. Not for a while. This concerns all of our future, if not our safety. I…I wish I could…but I promised I would help them. And I will. I’m learning how to fight-”

“To fight!” cried your mother.

“Yes, and we have a clue on how to take care of it. Loki needs all the help he can get…”

Their frowns deepened at the sound of his name. Then your father leaned forward, his plate and tea untouched.

“Y/N- you are about to marry Reverend Ransome. We have to pick a new date already,” he said.

You set down your tea, feeling your hold on the saucer turn to a grip. Your breathing became sharp and your hands shook as the cup rumbled on the saucer. You set it down, but the shaking continued. Jonathan took out a hand of yours and held it in comfort.

“Mother, Father…I cannot be a vicar’s wife. Not anymore.”

Your mother blinked rapidly.

“But Y/N- you love him so much and you’ve loved him for years. You told us yourself. And he loves you!”

Your father looked down on you. His voice deep and serious.

“I remember the day he asked permission to marry you. You should have seen him, Y/N. Heard his words then. I gave him my consent immediately. You should see how the reverend is now- hear how his sermons are lately. He’s eager for you to return. He misses you. He would run right here now if it wasn’t for his errands today!”

Yes, you forgot to ask him what errands he is doing. The bastard is probably pleasuring Cora against a tree again by now. Why hasn’t the bastard asked her to marry him yet and put us all out of our misery? I delivered that letter- plain and simple. He couldn’t miss it in his own stupid church. He must have read what it said… you thought bitterly.

Your senses reached out to the woods. It confirmed what you thought happened in the past. You could sense the bodies. His fingers reached up. Then out. Could sense it when he brought it to his mouth and licked off the inside of Cora.

‘Cora, Cora- how perfect for her name. The first bit rhymes with ‘whore’ and begins with the same letter as ‘cunt,’’ your thoughts bit back impulsively. You swallowed the thought back.

But you looked down into your cup on the tea tray. Fighting the urge to cry, your breathing even faster.

“I have…ended things with him,” you explained.

Your parents nearly jumped out of their seats.

“Ended things! Y/N- consider your future! A stable life with such a good, moral man who loves you! Why?!”

You gripped the arms of the couch with your free hand, Jonathan held you back from standing up. You saw his lips move, to contain getting involved. Only to support you. You felt your heart pick up and your throat tighten. You decided to make the explanation quick and simple.

“Will slept with Mrs. Seaborne while betrothed to me. That was why”

Your father squinted his eyes, his nostrils flaring.

“Y/N- Sarah gave her handmaiden to Jacob. It’s not noble for a wife to be upset when this happens. Your duty is to forgive him and make him happy,” he said.

You glared at your father. Jonathan’s hand broke off from you as you stood up, raising your voice and meeting them where you stood.

“Papa, Will had and consummated an affair. He kissed, wooed, and made love to another woman while engaged to marry me. He has broken my trust and crossed a line. It’s in the very Bible he studies and preaches not to do this- and he did anyway. Even as I was sick and dying, he preferred satiating his lust than comforting me. Is that who you want as your son-in-law? Or your rector? Don’t tell me he won’t do it after we’re married. I don’t trust him to. He has crossed a line once- and once is enough! I will not and cannot marry a man like that! And don’t tell me it’s my duty to let it go and be some perfect vicar’s wife! I will not make myself pure when he cannot be pure himself! I will not make myself into a perfect, pristine doll all for him to throw away for another!”

There was silence. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock. Your mother put a hand to her mouth.

“Y/N…do you realize the scandal even the rumor of this would cause?” she asked hoarsely.

You had no time to respond, the door burst open. In were none other than Mr. and Mrs. Harris, and a neighbor, Mr. Brown. Everyone shot up out of their seats, even Jonathan.

“Please! Mr. Y/L/N! Where is she?” Mrs. Harris asked, her eyes full of tears.

“Who?” asked your father.

Their eyes turned to you. Mr. Brown’s face turned red as if he was about to explode onto you.

“Miss Harris has vanished. We fear the worst- a kidnapping. This is no doubt your daughter’s fault!” he said.

He pointed a finger at you. His voice was heavy with venom.

“The Trickster’s God’s Whore,” he spat.

You felt sick again.

“Stella’s gone missing. Where does he have her- where does Loki have Stella?!” Mrs. Harris pleaded, her lips quivering as tears twisted her face and fell down her cheeks.

“Another one to spoil her virtue to pleasure him?! The Trickster God has one- Why isn’t one enough?” Mr. Brown sneered.

“Please everyone- she is not in Asgard,” Jonathan reasoned, putting his hands out to calm everyone down.

“What! Stella! Missing!” you urged. You went to her parents.

Mrs. Harris burst into heartrending sobs and her husband half embraced you. His blue eyes, just like his daughters, still looked at you with careful suspicion, but not outright hate as his neighbor.

“Gone since this morning. We were out visiting, taking care of business. Her brothers were off at work. Her little sister was with a friend. Stella was left home alone. She told us she intended to stay today- letters to write. Our neighbors said they heard her screaming. When they rushed in, the house and her room were a mess…and she was gone.”

“Please, Y/N, she must be with you. Talking of the place you are when we asked her, this Asgard! Every time since you visited! The Trickster god must have enchanted her!” Mrs. Harris fretted.

“Why would Loki do that?” you blurted. “No! I swear to you- as someone who friend of your family-Jonathan is right! Stella isn’t in Asgard! If she was, I would know!”

The mother began to wring her hands. Then she brought out a scrap of paper from the pocket of her dress.

“But she…she must be enchanted…and abducted…why else would she leave a scrap of paper behind with nonsense on it!” Mrs. Harris wailed.

“Nonsense? What nonsense? What’s on the paper?” you asked.

She handed you the scarp of paper. It was big and lined, written in a hurry. As if she was grabbed while writing it. But it was Stella’s handwriting. You exchanged too many letters to know it was her hand.

There was only one word on it. But one word was enough.

It read:

“GRENDEL.”

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 5 months

Text

Last Updated: 2024-03-05

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Sir Thomas Sharpe stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

❆ Christmas at Allerdale Hall by sserpente • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Imagine spending Christmas with Thomas Sharpe at Allerdale Hall, while the Baronet is determined to make the holiday special for you, Lucille cannot be more cross with [you for celebrating the holidays]."

❆ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by just-the-hiddles • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Your sister and children have come for the holidays to Allerdale Hall but all is not merry and bright."

❆ London Blizzard by sserpente • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Imagine getting stuck in [London due to] a blizzard with Thomas Sharpe over Christmas."

❆ A Special Present by ladyfluff • 〔C〕 • ♡ • 𑁍 •

❆ Chilly by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❆ Darling, You Shouldn't Have by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❆ Mistletoe Kiss by sserpente • 〔F〕 •

❆ Snow Day by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || Thomas Sharpe Master Index

Authors: @just-the-hiddles || @ladyfluff || @sserpente ||

#Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader #Sir Thomas Sharpe x Female Reader #Sir Thomas Sharpe x Y/N #Sir Thomas Sharpe x You #Thomas Sharpe x Reader #Thomas Sharpe x Female Reader #Thomas Sharpe x Y/N #Thomas Sharpe x You #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Y/N #Tom Hiddleston x You #Crimson Peak Fanfiction #Crimson Peak Fanfic #Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction #Tom Hiddleston Fanfic

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sserpente · 3 years

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A/N: Requests from three anons. Sir Thomas Sharpe is back in time for Halloween! And he will be back for more after too. Enjoy, everyone! ;-)

Words: 2277 Warnings: fluff and smut, mentions of ghosts

“Are you quite mad? Do not look at him like that, you are a maid! Not a potential wife…” The chef shook her head. She had a habit of chiding you but how else were you supposed to look at him? Sir Thomas Sharpe was everything a woman could ask for in a man.

He was an attractive and kind gentleman, wealthy, gentle and intelligent. He never raised his voice in an argument during all those balls you had secretly watched him at all the while serving drinks in an unflattering gown.

“Sorry…” You whispered, accepting the plate filled with little appetisers she was handing you. Another night for you to keep your head down and feign respect for all those rich bastards. Sir Thomas was different—you knew he was. He said Please and Thank you and he would always make eye contact when you served him. And quite recently, his tender blue gaze would linger just a little longer. Not long enough for anyone in the room, let alone his harsh sister Lucille to notice but long enough for your heart to flutter in your chest whenever you were in his presence.

Sir Thomas Sharpe owned Allerdale Hall. You knew he lived there with his sister, working day and night to build a clay mining business to restore the old mansion. They said it was haunted and it had hence captured your attention ever since.

There wasn’t much to do as a maid. You rarely got days off and even when you did, you did not have the money to head out and experience society the way the wealthy did. Your wages sufficed for a pie at the local pub every other month or so, if anything. And so, your hobbies were of a more affordable nature—such as your fascination for ghosts.

He recognised you now. He recognised you from when you travelled all the way to Allerdale Hall by foot to explore the landscape and see for yourself if you could spot any kind of paranormal activity. He’d seen you, probably thinking you were spying or begging for food and money, prompting you to flee before he could stop you or utter a single word.

Tonight was going to be different. It was All Hallow’s Eve and the highest members of society had dressed up in fancy costumes—most of them were even wearing masks.

You were not only flustered to look him in the eye now but also scared that he would call you out. The reputation of this house would sink massively if a maid was caught spying somewhere, even if that wasn’t what you had been doing.

Avoiding him went surprisingly well for the first half of the evening. Thomas Sharpe was charming—everyone wanted to speak to him—not so much to his sister though, her cold eyes glaring down every woman who came near him. Perhaps she was just protective? Wanting the best possible choice for her brother when it came to marriage? You sighed, turning away before you could get caught staring again.

“Excuse me? Would you mind bringing me and my sister another glass of champagne, dear?” You froze. It was his voice. Oh no…

Stammering, you spun around, tempted to just flee. It wasn’t just recognition you saw in his warm blue eyes though. It was kindness, along with… affection?

Surely, you were hallucinating now. You had fallen head over heels for this man despite never actually having spoken to him. So how was this possible? This was your imagination. Your mind playing a trick on you, it must have been!

And the fact that he did not utter a single word about spotting you on his property made you fall for him all the more.

“O-of course… I’ll bring it to you straight away!” Hurrying away to heed his request, you took a deep breath once you were out of sight. His voice… like smooth honey and his warm and charming gaze… oh, stop! You were just a maid! There was no way this man would ever take an interest in you…

When you returned with the requested drinks, Thomas was speaking with the owner of the house.

“It’s been quite busy tonight, has it not?” He was just saying. “Surely, your maids deserve a break after all the hard work.” Thomas gave you a warm smile, making your heart skip a beat.

“They’re used to it.”

“I’m sure they are.” He turned to you. “Allow me to escort you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and while your lips parted, Lucille’s face distorted with utter dismay.

“Thomas?”

“I will be right back, Lucille.”

His smile was genuine too when he offered you his arm and led you through the crowd, through one of the side entrances into the dark garden that was eerily quiet at this time of the day.

“Sir… I appreciate the gesture but I don’t think it’s appropriate for a man of your status to be seen with a simple maid on his arm.”

“Is a maid not a beautiful woman as well? A woman who does not fear hard work?” Your lips parted once more. Had he just called you beautiful?

“Will you tell me your name?” He asked gently once you reached the calming darkness of the garden, away from curious ears and disapproving looks.

You told him, too timid to look him in the eye even if you could barely see him away from the many candles lighting up the house.

“A beautiful name. I take it you know who I am but still, allow me to introduce myself to you. I am Thomas.”

“Sir, I can’t possibly call you by your first name.”

“Please. I insist. It’s alright.” He spoke your name then, sending pleasant shivers through you. The pause that followed was peaceful—not at all uncomfortable.

“You… I saw you. What were you doing at Allerdale Hall the other day? Did you need something? Help?” Oh. Oh no. So he had wanted to wait until you were in private to confront you?

“I… I am so sorry, Sir.”

“Thomas, please.”

“T-Thomas… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t spying, I promise, I just… there aren’t a great many pleasures for a maid. I cannot afford expensive hobbies but I take… I take a huge interest in paranormal occurrences.” You confessed. “I heard Allerdale Hall is haunted and I… I wanted to see for myself.”

“Ghosts…” Thomas smiled. “There have indeed been incidents my sister and I have been unable to explain.” Another pause, your heart in your mouth when he smiled at you… almost timidly this time.

You shivered when he said your name yet again. “The truth is, I am smitten by you. I have been for quite a while. With every celebration, I would always look forward to seeing you rush around the ballroom to offer drinks and appetisers.”

Your lips parted. Were you dreaming? You had known Sir Thomas Sharpe for several months now. There was no way he would desire a maid he had never spoken to before. Well, until tonight.

“Forgive me my straightforwardness. But am I correct when I say you too stole glances at me?”

He stepped closer, noticing how the cold was beginning to take a toll on you. The darkness of the night had wrapped itself around you both like a blanket and yet, it was bitterly cold.

His gentle gaze asked for permission before he took a hold of both your upper arms and pulled you closer towards him, his face remaining only mere inches from yours.

“I want you to be mine with every fibre of my being.” He whispered. Tears were burning in your eyes upon hearing his words. You were touched, honoured and… hopelessly in love. “Come with me to Allerdale Hall.”

“No… I… Thomas… I want this. I want you, more than anything! But this isn’t right… a maid and a baronet… they will come for me. Society will banish me. What about your sister?”

“My sister… Lucille does not know. I am aware of the risks and I know that I am asking way too much of you. But if you came to Allerdale Hall as a maid… to serve us… then sooner or later we would find a way. And I would get to marry you.”

It was much. It was too much. His confession, his offer to live in a haunted place, a rich mansion of all places and to be his maid while you secretly shared a bond made of unconditional love? It was insane and yet… you found yourself nodding, allowing him to seal your plan with a tender kiss.

“I am going to the post office. There are letters that are in need of my signature. By the time I am back, I expect the kitchen to be all clean.”

Lucille hated you. A few weeks had gone by since Thomas had “bought” you from your previous boss and you had moved in with the Sharpes. Perhaps she suspected something. The secret glances, the coy smiles, the subtle touches.

Thomas had let you in on his most sacred and most terrifying secret—that he and Lucille had been romantically involved, that they had shared intimacy despite being related this closely. And that Lucille had been planning on using his charm to get him to marry women from wealthy families and poison them to return Allerdale Hall to its former glory.

Now thanks to you, it was as good as new. Anything you had been able to clean and tidy up, you had taken care of—and Thomas trusting you with the darkness that lay heavily over his family’s legacy made you love him all the more.

You loved visiting him in his workshop in the attic, too. It was usually late at night when Lucille would head to bed that you would sneak out of your small room and join him up there to steal kisses, touches and the most heavenly sex you could ever have imagined having.

Society would frown upon you if only they knew you had lost your virginity to a man you were not yet married to. But you would do it again. Over and over again, you would remember his hands all over your body, his sweet kisses and his lustful thrusts back in that dark garden where he asked you to become his…

You bit your lower lip, breathing out when the entrance door fell shut and you were certain that Lucille had gone. You still had some laundry to do before you could get started with the kitchen, else she would be mad the sheets were wrinkly.

Folding them up neatly, you lost yourself in your memories of Thomas above you, caressing you and worshipping your body until you suddenly heard the door of the storage room open behind you.

A pair of big hands grabbed your waist, pulling you close against a strong body. Thomas buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

“Thomas…” You whispered, his name leaving your lips like a prayer.

“She should be gone for two hours.” He said, his fingers grabbing fistfuls of the beautiful dress he had bought you and pushing it up until he had revealed your knickers. They came off fast, along with him unbuttoning his trousers and his own underwear.

Thomas leaned against the cupboard, one of his hands wrapping around your waist, the other stroking your breasts, one at a time. His waiting erection pressed against your bare butt cheeks and when he aligned himself with your entrance, finding you wet and wanton for him, a moan escaped your lips.

“Carried away by your fantasies, my love?”

“Always…” You choked out, gasping when he pushed inside and pressed you even further against the counter. You were trapped between him and the hard piece of furniture as he rocked into you all the while whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and when his hand slid down to where your bodies had joined, his fingers finding your clit and caressing it with circular movements that had you melt in his arms, you moaned. Over and over again, with every eager and hungry thrust until the entire storage room smelled of sex and desire.

Thomas knew which buttons to press, so to speak. He was an incredibly skilled and considerate lover and he never found his release without giving you yours first. He knew you were close when you pushed against his hand, your hips moving in unison and when you came, you clenched around him rhythmically, your tight walls gripping his length so tightly the baronet couldn’t help but give in to his orgasm as well. His warm seed filled you up until it came dribbling down your inner thighs.

Thomas jerked inside of you, dragging his climax out for as long as he could before cradling you in his arms.

“Tonight.” He murmured once you had both come down from your high and you could feel him soften inside of you. “We are leaving tonight. Lucille thinks I will take a trip to London for more advanced machinery parts. But you will come with me to assist me. In reality…”

He turned you around gently so you would face him. “In reality, I am going to take you to a church to marry you. No one—not even my sister—will be able to break that bond. I found a cottage just outside of London, in the east. We will find shelter there for the night. For privacy… and our wedding night.”

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ♥ ko-fi.com/sserpente Big hug!

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