a/n: lol this was something i threw together after listening to Katy Perry. could easily have a part two! let me know!
summary: The night after your friend's bachelorette party, you find yourself waking up next to a random, hot stranger.
warnings: mature language!
**my requests are open!**
When you finally began to stir awake, you were met with a relenting headache that pounded the back of your skull. You were face-down into a pair of thin sheets on a not-so comfortable mattress. You peeled your eyes open and saw that the room started to spin, making you nauseous. Closing your eyes for a moment, you reopened them to see the light flooding into the white-colored room. There was an overlook of the city and you smiled.
Where the hell were you?
You were about to really begin to move around, but was suddenly frightened by the sound of someone snoring lightly. Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you carefully and slowly turned your head to the side.
Laying directly beside you was none other than a man, a tall man at that. His curls were darker with a tinge of blonde through the ends and messy. He was on his stomach, the side of his face pressed into the pillow of the bed, his shoulders rising with each breath he took.
Who the hell is he?!
And that was when horror consumed you. You lifted the sheet from where you laid and glanced down at yourself.
You then couldn’t help but look at him.
But damn, his ass was nice.
“Oh shit,” You whispered under your breath, immediately pushing yourself to sit up. Glancing around what you presumed to be the hotel room, there were empty bottles everywhere.
What did you do last night?
Where are you?!
You pushed the sheets off of your body and began scrambling around the room.
Blue button-up, black pants, briefs, socks, nice shoes, keys to a Jaguar - wait a Jaguar? - cell phone, wallet. That was all scattered on the floor by the mystery man’s pile of clothes. You then looked around and discovered yours.
Dress, bra, panties, keys to the Camry, heels, lip gloss, wallet, phone, pepper spray.
What? You were a woman. You needed a weapon.
You hurried to grab the clothes and rush into the bathroom. Checking your phone, you saw you had multiple missed calls from your friend before it donned on you.
You were in Las Vegas.
For her Bachelorette party.
Every text you received was either from her or the bridal party itself. You groaned and threw the clothes onto your body, your hair a complete mess.
Scratching your neck with your left hand, you hadn’t noticed the shiny band on your finger as you texted Lily to let her know you were fine… not really though.
Wait a damn minute.
Shiny band? Your eyes averted back to your left hand to see a gold band with a few diamonds encrusted, on your finger.
Racing out of the bathroom, the mystery guy was still passed out on the bed, snoring away. You slowly dipped into the side you were last on and pulled up the sheet. Carefully you grabbed his left hand.
Shiny gold band.
“Oh no…” You whispered.
You trailed back to last night despite the awful headache and traced your steps.
You arrived at the casino with the bridal party. Lily insisted she wanted to take risks for the night, even if that meant she’d lose all her money in a game of poker. She was horrible at it. The drinks were continuously floating your way, especially when they caught the eye of the ‘Bride to Be’ sash that Lily wore.
You hadn’t noticed the handsome stranger eyeing you from across the room until he sauntered his way over, his royal blue shirt tucked into his dress pants with a black belt. His hair was pushed back and he looked inviting. You discovered yourself veering towards him, the bridal party the least of your concern when Mr. Tall, Blonde & Handsome were making an attempt to meet you.
“Hi there,” You giggled flirtatiously, taking a sip of your drink. He smiled and extended his hand.
“Hello there, gorgeous.” He spoke with a very prominent English accent that made your insides churn in excitement. Once your hand landed in his, that was just the beginning to the wild night.
The bridal party soon found themselves tangled up inside of a nightclub, the stranger whose name you discovered to be Tom Hiddleston tagging along. “It’s a bachelorette party. You sure you can handle that, Tom?” You asked him with a wink.
You felt the man wrap his hand around your waist. “I can handle anything, love.” He promised you, making your heart race quicker.
“If I wasn’t buzzed,” You laughed. “I would be screaming at the fact I met Loki in person.” You giggled as the girls were centered on the dance floor, you and Tom alone on one of the unoccupied red couches. He chuckled, sipping his own drink, a buzz stirring in his system.
“Feels nice to not have a woman freak out over me.” He admitted with a sheepish smile.
You gazed down at the guy, your thoughts crashing.
Where the hell did the rings come from?
And if they’re legit, does that mean you’re married to Tom Hiddleston?!
“Hiddleston, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever wanted to do?” You asked him, your head on his shoulder as your buzz intensified. Drunken words are sober thoughts, that’s what you always heard. Your friends are clambering the dance floor still while you remained in the corner, drunk and leaned up against Loki himself.
Tom took another sip of his drink.
“Go on a tour through playing the spoons.” He breathed out, making you suddenly burst out laughing.
“What the hell, Hiddleston?” You giggled, making his blue eyes find yours.
He laughed at you. “I can play the spoons, I’m serious. I got drunk one night, it happened, it’s all over the Internet… Maybe I can learn songs and do a tour.” He shrugged, kissing your forehead.
“What about you, gorgeous?” He asked you next. You quietly laughed.
“I wanna get married by Elvis.” You announced.
Tom stared down at you, nearly as drunk as you.
“My turn to say, what the hell?” He pushed you gently. You scoffed.
“We’re in Vegas! Why not?” You prodded.
Tom remained silent for a few moments before he pushed himself off the couch, extending his hand. You arch your brows.
“What?” You asked him.
“C’mon,” He breathed out, finishing the drink. “We’re going to get married by Elvis. And hope he has a set of spoons.”
You cursed under your breath and nearly tripped into the floor over your shoes which automatically made him stir, and that’s when your eyes caught the notice of something silver.
Oh no, no, no, no!
Suddenly, the handsome man turned over in bed. His eyes settled onto you, sleep still prominent in them. When he stared at you, he chuckled before he gazed underneath the sheets. His face contorted slightly but then his eyes nestled on the gold band that was sitting on his finger.
With one look at you, which seemed rather awkward, he inhaled deeply.
“Good morning, wifey.” He greeted, his memories obviously better than yours.
“Oh shit,” You cried out, falling against the bed.
Summary: What happens when Tom is forced to have a stronger social media presence? How does he respond when teacher!reader sends him a message with one of her student's writing assignments about Loki?
A/N: I’m constantly blown away with the positive feedback I’ve been given! Thank you to all of those likes and new followers. If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to send me a message. Any feedback you all have about what you enjoy, what I could improve on---please send it my way! I’m all ears!
What in the world was he doing? In what realm was any of this a good idea? These thoughts and more prompted Tom to push away from his desk and head to the kitchen. Pacing seemed like a useful strategy at this moment. He needed to move. To think. Although his hangover kept him from going on a morning jog when he first woke, the culprit now was the London rain.
He was supposed to change his password. He was supposed to sign-off the browser and never stumble upon Instagram or you ever again. You had asked who you were speaking to this morning and his act of cowardice was supposed to get you to show your true colors. Perhaps, send message after message incessantly, expecting an immediate answer until it escalated to the point when he wouldn’t feel guilty for his silence? Or—you could have lost interest at the prospect of potentially not speaking to a ‘movie star’? This morning was supposed to be a fluke.
“What am I doing?!” he shouted to himself, running long fingers through unruly curls. Palms slid down his temples and rested on beard-covered jaws.
If you were supposed to be a fleeting memory, why could he not get you out of his head? You lingered in his thoughts. He wanted to ask you questions about your profession, your ‘kids’, your life… He wanted that energy that’s created when two complete strangers learn about one another, piece by piece. The heartbreaking realization was this: he wanted a friend.
Now, Tom was a pleasant guy, affable to a fault, and certainly had plenty of friends. The majority of them all held the same common characteristic: their friendship was based on their shared profession. Being friends with those who hold the same career came with its own set of difficulties. Whether he wanted to feel it or not, there would always be a level of comparison between actors. Hell, Chris was one of his closest friends, but that friendship was born from competing to earn the role of Thor. It all worked out as it was supposed to in the end–that was true enough.
The fact still remained—he just wanted to be Tom. Not Tom Hiddleston. Not Loki. Although, Tom was having some troubles of his own at the current moment that had absolutely nothing to do with acting.
“That maddening picture,” he muttered to himself. The comical aspect of his frustration was highlighted as he directed his statement to a sleeping Bobby. The dog laid in silence, but Tom reacted as though he received an answer. The frustration morphed until a softer wash came over his visage. “You’re right. It was just a picture of her shirt. In fact…,” he paused, thinking over the pun that adorned the t-shirt.
He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but the words left him before he could stop. “Adorable. It was absolutely adorable,” shaking his head as he circled the living room coffee table. His eyes glanced at the standing clock along his mantel. In the privacy of his home, fingers came down to his side as he did the time difference math with slender fingers as a guide. He hated maths. Numbers didn’t click in his mind the way words could—but more importantly, numbers never moved a person. Numbers didn’t convey emotions.
“It’s not even the afternoon for her. It’s still morning. What time must it be there? She barely got any sleep. I couldn’t have helped matters with my messages earlier. I kept her awake—.” It wasn’t until an alert came from his computer, that he was pulled back to the moment.
What would people be thinking when they first saw that picture? I’m all ears.
By the way, that would be an idiom. In case you didn’t notice, like you didn’t notice poor Scott’s exclamation points.
Hovering over his chair to read the messages sent, he adjusted his glasses to get a better look at the screen. A deep exhale mixed with laughter came as he read your words. Would you ever let him forget that you hadn’t paid close attention to the boy’s words? Immediately, he appreciated the way that you continued to question him, yet still added humor to the comments. It eased him enough that he was able to settle back into his desk chair, studying the message. Your humor provided him with enough courage to respond how Tom would want to respond.
Hardly seems fair that I should answer your question, when you’ve yet to answer mine.
Type. Type. Stop. Type. Type. Stop. His tongue absentmindedly slid across his lower lip, analyzing the typing pattern with curiosity. Was he pushing too far?
Did I wear this shirt for you?
Ah, so you did read the question.
I chose to ignore it, much like you ignored all of Scott’s exclamation points.
Will you ever forget my transgression?
What sort of teacher would I be if I didn’t help you learn from your mistakes?
In isolation, it was an innocent question. To be honest, you could have meant it very innocently indeed. There was no proof anywhere in the conversation that should make him believe you were flirting with him. You didn’t even know who you were talking to, whether it be him or someone who ran the Instagram account. Still, Tom found himself scrolling up to look at all the previous messages you had sent, searching for any clue as to how he should take your current conversation.
His oceanic hues settled on a picture–not the Star Wars shirt picture, but rather one of the images that contained Scott’s writing. It was an image he hadn’t spotted originally when you first sent it. He wouldn’t tell you that he sent a message to you before reading over each page of his writing. When you reached the end of the story, you assumed that was all. Now he scanned the final picture with the word ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS printed on the top of the paper. The following words were obviously in Scott’s handwriting.
Thank you to mis. L/N. She never gave up on me. even wen i was acting like a fool. And thank you loki and my dog.
Tom sat there staring at the image for ten minutes. Words conveyed emotions and Scott had done just that as a writer. His love for you was evident in his effort, not just his thanks. This was why Tom didn’t change his password or log out of the browser. This was why he was already five minutes late for a conference call about season 2 of Loki.
You were the reason.
Meanwhile, you were having a mild panic attack in the middle of the district wide meeting for various reasons. You had asked this stranger whether or not they wanted to take your shirt off. Not just any stranger—someone connected to quite the famous actor. The logical side of you knew that this person couldn’t be Tom Hiddleston. He had better things to do than message you. However, the nagging inkling in the back of your brain kept whispering….’what if?’ What if you had just sent Tom Hiddleston a picture of yourself? What if you asked him if he wanted to take your shirt off? What if he was flirting with you? What if he referred to you as ‘darling’?
“Motherfucker,” you muttered to yourself, crossing your legs in an effort to ignore the warmth that developed in a particular location.
The woman next to you raised a judgmental brow at your word choice. You didn’t have the mental capacity to explain the movie montage rolling through your head of what you would allow Tom Hiddleston to do to you. Your word choice was the least of your problems. In your defense, you did a marvelous job keeping your language clean in front of the kids. When students weren’t around–especially when you were flustered, all bets were off.
After ten minutes had elapsed, you were sure that would be the end of it all. Until…
What if I promise to make it up to Scott? Will that be enough to have his teacher forgive and forget?
“Luke, I’m not angry about—yes, I know you were looking out for my image—No, I completely underst–,” Tom attempted to speak with his publicist whom he called as he continued to type away messages to you. He already had a plan formulating, but in order to make it happen—he was going to need Luke, which was proving harder to carry on a conversation with the man when he was apologizing profusely. He rattled on and on to Tom about his thought process about the social media image, especially now that Tom was sober.
It took Tom a couple of rereads before he recognized the quote, but when he did—even Luke could hear Tom’s amused humming on the other end of the line. “Everything alright, Tom?”
Are we in a game of questions?
Are we in a game of questions?
So you are familiar with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead?
Isn’t it obvious?
Who am I speaking to?
“Tom? Are you there?”
Wouldn’t you like to know?
Rhetoric. Two…one. Match point.
Are you also familiar with Shakespeare?
To be or not to be?
Is that a question?
OH! I see what you did there. That was clever.
Thank you, darling. However, game, set, and match.
“TOM!” shouted Luke, yet Tom gave no indication of being startled. Actually, nothing could pull the actor out of his contentment. You knew Tom Stoppard, enough to partake in a game of questions which the characters Rosencrantz and Guildenstern play together. Not only that, but they were two characters from Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
“Luke, I have an idea to increase my social media presence. I’ll need your help though.”
“You’ll do this without kicking and screaming?”
Ignoring his question, Tom referred to his action items he had jotted down as the idea came to mind. “How quickly could I get my hands on a Loki wig…and costume?”
Tag List: @help-i-need-a-social-life @sleutherclaw @lharrietg
summary: Being a part of President Loki’s reelection campaign, you never thought that you'd get the change to be with him in his office. Alone. pre-Nexxus Event (for Pres. Loki)
You smoothed down your skirt as you tried to hurry down the hallway. Everyone was working around you giving the feeling of chaos as everyone scrambled to finish the day's work. It seemed as Election Day drew closer and closer the office became more and more intense. You thought that it would be fun to join President Loki's campaign team as he worked for reelection.
When one of the assistants came up to your small cubicle desk and said that Loki wanted to see you in his office immediately, you felt your stomach drop. Instantly you thought that it was something bad. You'd only met the man a handful of times, and each time you were both intrigued by him and scared of him. The moment Loki walked into a room he commanded it and everyone paid attention.
Your heart raced against your chest as your mind raced through the possibilities of what he wants to see you for. You walked to the end of the hallway and stood in front of the double doors that lead into his office, two servicemen standing on either side. Showing no emotion, unmoving. You took a few deep breaths before reaching up to knock on the door. But before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door swung open and revealed the office behind it.
Slowly you stepped into the office and the door shut tightly behind you, the sound of the lock clicking cutting through the silence of the room. Leaning against the front of his desk dressed in a well-fitted suit was Loki. Your eyes scanned over his body slowly taking in every inch and detail of his tall frame. Even leaning against the desk he still loomed over you. His long dark hair was pushed back from his face, his golden horns perfectly placed upon his head and coming down along his cheekbones. Making them look sharper than they already are. You couldn't tell from the look that was on his face if he was either happy to see you, or ready to tear into you.
"Y-You wanted to see me, President Laufeyson?" You spoke, trying to come off confident as you stood in front of him.
"What is your name, darling?" His deep voice seemed to send a shiver down your spine in a moment. It was something that you never got used to. You spoke your name softly to him, a smirk coming across his lips.
Loki pushed off from the desk and took a few steps towards you. As his eyes traveled along your body you thought for a moment he could see through your clothing. See every inch of you. Your heart raced against your chest as you stood there still, Loki disappearing behind your shoulder. Soon his body pressed against your back and you were able to feel the heat of his body against yours.
"I've admired you for a while," He spoke into your ear, another shiver moving through you. Your name leaving his lips in a way that sounded sinful. "You've been with the campaign team for a while, and I've seen you standing in the background like a good little pet."
"I-I..." You turned to look over your shoulder towards him, "I'm sorry? What?"
Loki smirked and moved back around slowly till he was standing back in front of you. His tall, lean frame looming over you as the mischievous smirk seemed to spread across his face slowly.
"You'll do perfectly," Loki spoke
"P-Perfect for what? Am I in trouble?"
"Far from it," Loki turned and walked towards his desk and moved around it slowly before taking a seat in his chair. "I have an offer for you, not really an offer. But a request, pet."
That seemed to only cause the glint in Loki's eyes to grow more.
He rose his hand slowly and used two fingers to beckon you forth. Immediately it was like your body knew the command and moved towards him. Loki kept his eyes lock on yours as you swiftly moved across his office, around the desk, and towards him. You stopped right in front of him, Loki turning his chair towards you. Slowly he parted his knees and patted the top of his thigh, cocking his brow towards you in a silent direction.
You hesitated for only a moment before moving between his thighs and taking a seat on his lap. Loki pulled you closer to him and seemed to growl slightly as your body pressed against his. You were able to be enveloped by the warm scent that came from him the moment you came closer. It drew you closer and made you feel your arousal pool between your legs. There was no denying that Loki was incredibly handsome.
His hand moved along your exposed leg as your skirt seemed to move up as you sat on his lap. Your legs seemed to slowly part for him as Loki's hands seemed to travel up slowly.
"Are you devoted to me?" Loki asked, his hand caressing your thigh slowly it was making your heart race and feeling an ache build. Your body was reacting to him intensely and it both excited and scared you.
"Of c-course, sir." You spoke with a shakiness to your voice now, moving your gaze from his hand to his face.
"And you would do anything for me? Wouldn't you?"
Slowly you nodded your head.
"Then I have an offer for you. For you to simply be mine."
That mischievous smirk was back on his face, you felt yourself clench between your legs needing some sort of relief. "Yes, mine. You would solely be here to serve me in any way that I see fit. Wouldn't a follower such as yourself love nothing more than to serve their master?"
Deep down you knew the words he spoke were true. You wanted that. To serve this man however he wanted you to.
"Your body would be mine, and whenever I want you, you would be there to offer yourself to me." His fingers teased along with the fabric, teasing your slit through it and moaning when he felt how wet you were for him. "Soaked already?"
You stammered slightly but it soon changed into a whimper as his fingers pressed against your clit and slowly teased you through your underwear.
"I can practically smell you, pet," Loki spoke with a slight growl. "How I want to taste you," You gasped softly and moaned as he pressed against you more. You spread your legs for him, your leg brushing against his hardening cock. "You would like that wouldn't you?"
He paused, "Another time. Must see first if you are worthy enough for me. Even though something tells me that you will."
Loki's hand pulled away from between your legs causing you to whimper softly from the loss.
"On your knees." You moved quickly between his thighs on the floor, kneeling before him and looking up through your lashes. "Good girl,"
Loki moved to unbuckle his trousers, pushing them down enough to free his cock. You couldn't help the small gasp that came from you as he fully came into view. You felt your mouth water at the sight of him. His larger hand wrapped around the base of his hard cock, precum slowly dripping along his length, begging for your tongue to taste him. Your hands caressed his thighs slowly as you suddenly became eager to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue.
"Do you want me?" He moaned your name at the end, making you draw your eyes back towards his face. You nodded your head and gripped tighter to his thigh slightly. "Open up."
You opened your mouth for him as he threaded his long fingers through your hair and pulled you forward. You moaned at the taste of him against your tongue, eager to please him, loving the deep moan that came from him as you wrapped your lips around his cock. Your hand replaced his at his base, stroking what couldn't fit in your mouth. Slowly you began to bob your head up and down his length, moving faster the more accustomed you came to him down your throat. He seemed to be pleased any time he heard you gag around him slightly, his hips moving up to meet with your movements.
"Yes, such a pretty thing with your lips wrapped around me," Loki moaned and gripped tighter to your hair. "Look up at me, keep those eyes on me, pet."
You moaned around him and did exactly as he asked. Watching his face as you pleased him, trying to draw out every noise you could. You wanted to please him, to be his and only his. Loki tapped into a side of you that had been sitting dormant and waiting for someone to serve.
It didn't take long before Loki was fucking your throat, holding your head down as he fucked into your throat. You could feel his cock twitch in your mouth every time he made you gag. The heady taste of his precum along with your tongue and slowly dripping from your mouth along with your saliva. He was making a mess of you, something he wanted. Loki pulled from your mouth with a gasp, a mixture of his salvia and precum dripping down along your chin and towards your chest.
His cock bobbed in front of you and you wanted nothing more than to have him back in your mouth. But instead, he stood from his chair and quickly began to remove his suit.
"Strip, slut." Loki ordered. You moved into action quickly and stripped out of your blouse and skirt, throwing them to the side along with your bra and underwear. You went to kick off your heels when he quickly stopped you. "The heels stay on."
He moved towards you and grabbed your neck before pulling you tightly to him, bending down and kissing you deeply. His tongue moved against yours before winning dominance in the kiss almost immediately. Loki could taste a bit of himself on your tongue and it turned him even more. His cock was hard and aching for you, needing to feel your pussy tight around his cock.
Loki lifted you onto his desk, spreading your legs wide for him. He bent his head down to press his tongue against your slit. You couldn't control the noise that left you the moment he sucked on your clit. You jumped slightly and rose on your elbows to look down and watch him. Loki moaned against you as his tongue worked against your slit, taking in every drop that you gave him.
"L-Loki," You moaned, wanting to reach down and pull at his long, dark curls but the horns slightly in your way.
Loki pulled back from between your legs and glared down towards you, the darkness behind his eyes that made you freeze for a moment in fear.
"What did you just call me?" He spoke, his deep voice once again pulling you in and making you afraid at the same time. "You are to call me master, or sir. Nothing else unless I permit you. Understand?"
"Yes, I-I'm sorry..." You spoke, Loki cocking his brow towards you. "Sir,"
The smirk was back, "Good girl."
You fell back against the desk and let out a wanton moan as his fingers worked against you.
"Such a perfect little pussy for me, so eager." Loki licked his lips as he watched over you. Loving how your body reacted to him. "Never have tasted anything so sweet."
You could feel the need to cum slowly start to build, your legs shaking slightly as you withered beneath him. But just as you felt yourself start to fall apart beneath him, Loki pulled away and brought his fingers to his lips and sucked on them. You wanted that image imprinted on your mind forever. There was a hunger in Loki's eyes as he stared down towards you, seeing the slight mess that he was making out of you. He wanted more. He needed more.
His hand moved down to his cock and slowly stroked it as he looked over you, seeing the same hunger he felt within himself reflect in your eyes.
"Beg for it, slut." Loki ordered, moving towards to slowly tease your slit with the head of his cock. "Beg for me to fuck you."
"Please, please sir...I need to feel you deep inside of me. Fuck me. Fuck me and make me yours."
Your hand traveled down your body slowly as you begged, teasing yourself and even wrapping your hand around him and stroking his cock slowly. Loki grabbed one of your legs and pulled you down to the edge, before placing it along his shoulder. You were opened wide for him, exactly how he wanted you.
Loki thrust into you hard and nearly with no mercy, the two of you moaning at the connection. He stretched you with ache and pain that only made you clench around him and pull him in deeper. You were dripping along his cock causing an erotic sound to come from between you both. You reached to grip something on the desk as he fucked into you. You are panting and moaning beneath him as he took full control of your body. The moans, whimpers, and growls coming from the two of you mixed with the erotic nose of your bodies moving against each other.
Loki's grip around your thigh moved down to your throat, his pace becoming more erratic and harder. Loki was lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. It was like with every thrust you were pulling him deeper into you, pulsing and clenching around him sweetly.
"You gonna cum for me? Hmmm, gonna cum like a whore for my cock?" Loki tightened his grip on your throat.
"Y-Yes...please...please make me cum sir. Please."
"Give it to me. Scream for your master so everyone knows who's fucking you."
Your moan built louder and louder, not caring if everyone outside his office could hear you. The feeling taking over your body was too much, your entire body trembling beneath him. You were a babbling moaning mess, clearly fucked out, beneath Loki. He loved it.
Your back arched and you screamed his name as you came around him. You reached up and gripped his arm with your nails digging into his skin slightly. Loki let himself go and spilled his cum deep inside of you, grinding his hips into you, making sure every drop was deep inside of you. You could feel him cum inside of you and that only made you cum harder.
"That is, take every drop of my cum...god, such an eager little slut." Loki panted, leaning over you and supporting himself with his hands planted on either side of you. "Mmm, this pussy is perfection."
Loki slowly pulled out and moaned as he watched his cock pull out of you, both your arousal and his cum nearly dripping off his cock. He sat back on his office chair and watched as his cum slowly dripped from your pussy. You felt like you couldn't move, every bit of energy left your body.
"Yes, you'll do perfectly." Loki sighed as he sat in the seat, you sat up and looked towards him. Mascara running down your cheeks, hair a mess and clearly fucked out of your mind.
"Now come and clean the mess you created, pet."
You eagerly dropped to your knees and between his legs, looking up to him through your lashes "Yes, Mr. President."
This is my first Loki piece, so please be kind. I hope you liked, would love to know your thoughts.
We only got him for 50 seconds, but president Loki does something for me and I love it.
Summary: What happens when Tom is forced to have a stronger social media presence? How does he respond when teacher!reader sends him a message with one of her student's writing assignments about Loki?
A/N: Wow! Thank you all for the kind feedback! It’s so appreciated! I’m trying to pace myself---so I ended up splitting part 2 up and saving the rest for part 3. That makes sense, right? Oh who knows anymore....As always, just winging it over here...
You could quit. Find another job. Find another profession. Work at Disney World, perhaps? Maybe open a llama and alpaca emporium? These were the thoughts that went through your head on a normal work day. Though there was only panic and curses swirling around your sleep deprived brain as you had apparently hit the snooze button on your alarm. Not once. Not twice. But enough times so that for every 9 minutes, for the last hour, “Eye of the Tiger” blared directly in your ear.
Yesterday had been a mess of a day. Your class was off—full moon? Knowing that Thursday was essentially their Friday since they had the day off and you had to go to professional development? Whatever the case may be, they were off. The following questions had actually left your mouth yesterday—- “Why is there a pancake on your computer? Why is your arm covered in expo marker?” Oh—and the classic, “Did you just lick that?”
The answers were:
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
At a certain point, you threw your hands in the air. Literally and metaphorically. Kids deserved grace, especially a room full of nine and ten year olds. Adults have off days, so kids should be able to have them too. It didn’t stop you from muttering the lyrics under your breath, “Y’all gonna make me lose my mind…” To which three of your students called out, “Up in here! Up in here!” Even when you were so completely over the day, they made you laugh. Honestly, it’s one of the reasons you became a teacher. Your job was exhausting, but you were guaranteed to laugh each and every day.
Unfortunately, laughter didn’t make it less draining. Nor did your profession give you ample time to meet men. At least, that was what you were going to blame your lack of dates on, along with your continued conversing with your ex-boyfriend. What was the harm in still talking to him (six years after he crushed your soul)? You were friends! You weren’t dating anyone. He wasn’t dating anyone….seriously. Why couldn’t you both be mature about things and talk occasionally.
Because your heart belonged to him. He owned you. If he said jump, you’d ask how high? If he suggested drinks, you were buying a new dress for the occasion. And when he suggested going back to his place, you would follow him like a puppy—even though you were fully aware of what it would involve and how he would go radio silent the next day. It didn’t matter.
That’s why you had stayed up late into the evening messaging him over Instagram, because he didn’t think it was a good idea for you two to text one another. That should have been a red flag—and honestly, you weren’t an idiot. You knew why he wanted social media messaging over text…You knew this was him using you, but maybe–you were using him as well? You enjoyed the routine. Knowing what to expect. Knowing just how far this “relationship” could actually go. There was safety in playing the victim sometimes—whether you openly admitted it or not.
However, as you laid in bed, waiting for him to message you back, you found yourself drifting to sleep. He hadn’t messaged back in twenty minutes, but what if he was just getting ready for bed? What if a work thing popped up? (At one in the morning, reader? Really?) You had to stay awake.
All of this prompted you to remember your promise to Scott. He wanted Loki to read his narrative that he had accomplished all by himself. You told him you would try to send it to him. You didn’t realize that you’d be exchanging messages with Tom until you eventually passed out.
I have to ask…Who am I speaking to?
The question was never answered, but it didn’t quite matter since you had passed out moments after sending the message.
Now, you sat in an elementary school cafeteria with teachers from all over your district. There was no shame in your two coffees propped in front of you. Or your make-up free face. Or the impressively high bun you were sporting. Truthfully, you were just impressed that you managed to find clean clothes this morning. Your “METAPHORS BE WITH YOU”, complete with Star Wars font, was the first shirt you plucked from the laundry basket. It was teacher humor. Your kids liked it. You liked it. Who cares what anyone else thinks…
But as you sat in the meeting—pretending to listen to whatever drivel was being squawked at you, you snuck a quick picture of the shirt, minus your face for obvious dark circles, red eyes, blotchy skin reasons. There were some perks to being in large meetings. Everyone was essentially pretending to listen, just like you. No one around you cared that you snapped a picture of your shirt logo, mindlessly opened up Instagram, and sent it to the last person your message.
I wouldn’t mind you taking this shirt off of me.
Are you one with the force?
Your ex, David, adored Star Wars and you pretended to love it to the same degree he did. Stars Wars AND mindlessly flirting during a meeting? What could go wrong? Your eyes stayed glued to the presenter, waiting for your phone to vibrate with a response. You don’t see the constant typing, stopping, and typing again pattern from your recipient. Finally, you feel the slight vibration, signalling your eyes to look down.
I don’t believe I’m the droid you’re looking for.
Fuck. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks, memories from the night before coming to the forefront now. You hadn’t had time to mull over your conversation with whomever ran Tom Hiddleston’s Instagram account. No matter who it was (although you wish they would have answered your question from last night—who were you speaking to?), it didn’t change the fact that you just asked this person to take your shirt off of you. The proper thing to do would be to take a moment, take a breath, take it in….THEN respond.
Oh my God! Fuck. I’m sorry!
I can’t believe I
But your fingers send the messages off without even finishing the sentence in the last one. You’re going to throw up. You’re sure of it.
Obviously, you weren’t the one I meant to send that to…
This time, you do catch the typing, stopping, typing pattern. This guy had to think you were nuts. One day, you’re asking them to show Tom Hiddleston one of your student’s writings and the next day—you’re sending pictures of your boobs (covered in a witty shirt, but still very much your boobs).
That’s wildly unfortunate. I thought my appreciation of metaphors prompted the shirt. You didn’t wear it for me?
Was he—was he…No. That’s not flirting, Y/N. That’s carrying on a conversation in an attempt to take away some of your embarrassment. This isn’t flirting. It’s talking. You didn’t wear it for me?!
Every week I bribe Scott to write a story about another Marvel character. Hemsworth last week. Shooting for RDJ this week, but he was busy.
You wound me.
Now, I love Chris like a brother, but I very much doubt he would have appreciated Scott’s metaphor as much as I did.
Maybe not the metaphor, but what about the shirt?
Very, very much so.
What the hell did that mean? Two verys? Did that mean something? After analyzing students’ writing, a double set of very meant a great deal more than one very. Very. “Very,” you whisper as the word sounds so odd off your tongue. It’s lost its meaning and no longer sounds like a real word.
Is he a big Star Wars fan?
The pause between your question and the tell-tale sign of typing seemed to be an eternity. Although the logical part of you knew that this person had to be some sort of public relations person for the famous actor, it didn’t quite matter. You held your breath as you waited for this person to answer with how big of a Star Wars fan Hemsworth was or some equally nerdy fact about the great franchise.
Darling, no one is thinking Star Wars when they first see that picture.
Tag List: @help-i-need-a-social-life @sleutherclaw
a/n: this is something new I'm starting! A series based on getting a message from an unknown number, to which you find out is Tom Hiddleston... the idea sounded cute to me, ok? hope you enjoy!
| Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight |
Wattpad Version of Wrong Number
Link to Spotify Playlist
warnings: none... for now. will be a slight age gap I guess? reader is 25, so make that 15. Not bad though
“(Y/N), are you almost ready?!” Your best friend’s voice rang loud from downstairs. You were currently in the process of trying to decide between the emerald dress or the royal blue. Tonight was one of Hollywood’s biggest parties and you had the privilege of attending, thanks to your best friend being buddy-buddy with various stars thanks to her work in the movie business.
“Yeah,” You called back out. “Give me about fifteen minutes.”
Grumbling to yourself, you jerked both dresses out of the closet and surveyed them. Emerald would accent your curves, while the royal blue looked sleeker, sexier. It’s not like you were sixteen and trying to impress high-school boys. You were all but twenty-five and a grown-ass woman. Although you had the mindset of a thirty-year-old, which made you seem much older than truly spoken.
As you were about to yell for your best friend to come upstairs and just choose for you, your phone buzzed with a text message. More than likely it was from your boss, asking if you had the completed documents she needed for Tuesday morning’s meeting, to which you could say yes. You ensured before you had fun, your daily duties were completed, especially when it came to working.
You glanced down at your phone to see that it was entirely unknown to you with an area code you recognized as none other than California.
Thanks for a spectacular time, darling. Can’t wait to do it again. xo T.H.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. At first, you thought to neglect the message, but you smirked.
Not sure what we did that was spectacular, but glad I could rock your world.
Snickering, you smiled to yourself and put your phone down, only to have to sound off once again.
It was from the same number.
My apologies, I must have texted the wrong number. Nice of you to play along though.
You inhaled and read the text over, thinking maybe this was the time to block the number and never text again, but for some odd reason, you felt obliged to entertain the individual.
Funny. If you and this person had such a great time, you’d think you would’ve texted the right number. Or maybe she just gave you the wrong number.
Did that sound harsh? Playful? You didn’t bother to think it over. You quickly pressed send and thought of an idea. Snapping a picture of the two dresses side by side, you sent it to the random number.
Emerald or royal?
You pressed send and waited. A few minutes passed by and you thought maybe you had pissed the person off. As you were about to just say screw it and throw on the royal blue, your phone buzzed.
Emerald. It’s a ravishing color. Accent with gold.
Your mouth fell open slightly and you giggled, throwing on the emerald dress. Taking the texter’s advice, you accented the dress with gold earrings and a few bracelets. Strapping on a pair of heels, you were ready to call it done. Checking your phone, you saw that the person had immediately double-texted upon sending the dress selection.
Based on the situation we encountered, I don’t think I would’ve gotten the wrong number. Could be wrong though. Thanks for the entertainment though.
Laughing, you walked downstairs to see your best friend with keys in hand.
“There you are,” She groaned. “Are you ready?”
You nodded and walked out of the door, racing to your best friend’s car. You thought about what to send the person back. You didn’t want to end the conversation there, so you decided to amp it up slightly.
So you slept with her. Got it, you’re saying your sex game is off the charts. Typical man.
Immediately, a response.
Who says you can’t have a good time without sex being involved? Sex isn’t everything. And did you just assume my gender?
You begged to differ, but then again, you weren’t getting much action on the side lately. You had a few flings, a long-term relationship with a few men, but as of now, you were quite alone in your bed at night.
Oo, I pinched a nerve, didn’t I? Sorry. Calling it for what it is… and based on the premise of your text, I’d say you're a male.
“Who are you texting? You’re smiling like an idiot.” Your best friend questioned you suddenly from the driver’s seat. You snickered, shaking your head.
“Some guy randomly texted me,” You inferred that he was a man. You could be completely wrong, though. “Just having some fun.”
Ding! There went the phone.
No nerves were pinched. You think you’re hilarious. That’s perfectly fine.
Are you a male though? Serious question.
Yes. I presume you’re female?
You got it. You signed your text with T.H. What’s that stand for?
You waited for a response, only to have nothing for about thirty minutes. But when you did receive a notification, it was your Twitter. You and your best friend arrived at the party and before long, you pushed the guy’s random texting to the back of your mind as you danced and drank. The party was filled with Hollywood’s elites and your best friend proudly introduced you to many.
Before long, the night grew dark and you were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Once you arrived home and your best friend helped you into your bedroom for the night, your phone sounded off with a notification.
I apologize, I was at a party. But the T stands for Thomas, but you can call me Tom.
You read it over. Tom? You didn’t know any Tom’s. That was a first.
And the H? You tipsy-texted him.
Not too sure if I should tell you, yet.
Chuckling, you sighed.
You’re gonna make me work for it? Ugh. I’ll figure it out on my own. My first guess isssssss Harrison.
You sent the text and struggled to keep your eyes open.
As he texted back again, you read it over.
Harrison? Nice guess, but wrong. What’s your name?
Your fingers moved lazily over the keys of your phone.
(Y/N). you’ll have to work for the rest. But i’ll figure yours out… Thommmmass. Bet your ass is nice
Before your eyes officially closed, you read the final text.
Based on that text, you might be tired. Get some rest. We may talk again soon.
Summary: You work at the TVA as an analyst. Every day is the same- boring case after boring case- but your entire life changes one day when a new variant shows up
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: Reposting this b/c last time it didn’t end up in any of the tags and it flopped. Here’s to hoping my account won’t glitch again 🥂
The TVA halls were always eerily quiet. You used to be uncomfortable making your way through them, constantly looking behind your shoulder. But after being in the agency for- god, you don’t even know how long- it didn’t seem to bother you anymore. At least it didn’t now, as you ran through them, desperately trying to hold onto the piles of documents in your hands.
You didn’t expect to have such a prominent variant case come by you today until Hunter B-15 stormed into your office in full armor.
“Mobius is trying to reason with the variant. Get in there and fix it,” she said, slamming the pile of documents on your desk before turning around and leaving.
“Well, uh, okay then.”
You picked up the documents in front of you, carefully skimming through them before stopping at the first image you saw. It was of a lean man with smooth, pale skin and dark hair that flowed down right above his shoulders. His eyes, however, were what made you stop reading. They had a certain mischievous glint in them, almost a sparkle, even with the somewhat uncertain look on his face.
“No way,” you whispered as you scanned over his face again. “What the hell is the God of Mischief doing here?”
You’ve never run to see a variant before, but you had to see this. Once you reached Mobius’ office, you were completely out of breath, leaning on the pale beige wall beside you. You went to open the door and walk in, but stopped as you heard muffled voices.
“And then the Dark Elves attack the palace, and you think you send them to Thor. But instead, you lead them right to her.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re lying. It’s not true.”
“It is true. That’s the proper flow of time! And it happens again, again, and again because it’s supposed to, because it has to.”
“Where is she?!”
You took a step back from the doors to where you can’t hear, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You could easily tell Mobius’ voice, it was strong and firm. But the other… you’d never heard a voice that tortured before. It was almost reminiscent of a scared child.
You stepped back towards the door, putting your ear on it.
“You weren’t born to be a king, Loki. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That’s how it is, that’s how it was, that’s how it will be.”
“I thought I told you to get in there!” A voice booms from behind you.
You jump, quickly turning around to find B-15 behind you, a stern look on her face.
“S-Sorry, I was about to, I just got distracted-” you squeaked out.
“Move,” she said. You quickly stepped to the side, as she threw open the doors and barged into the room.
“What are you doing?” You heard her say as you peaked into the room behind her.
You’ve seen interrogation rooms plenty of times before, but you’ve never seen a hologram of the Avengers blown up in the middle of it. How do they always look so cool?
“My job. Is it yours to interrupt?” Mobius shot back, eyes glancing to your position by the door. “Oh hey, [Y/N], you working for her department now?”
You snapped out of your thoughts, turning back towards the three of them. And, for the first time since you got there, Loki looked at you, light eyes boring into your own. His expression was stone cold and unreadable, the scared child you’d heard in his voice nowhere to be seen.
“I, um, no, I just wanted to, uh, check out the var- situation. I wanted to check out the situation.” Your words just tumbled out with no coherency, causing heat to rush to your face. Your eyes dropped to the floor quickly, so you didn’t see Loki’s eyebrows slightly raise as he watched you.
“Anyway,” B-15 grumbled, rolling her eyes. “We have a situation.”
“There’s always a situation,” Mobius sighed, before turning to you. “Watch him.”
“Yes, sir,” you said back, giving him a weak salute.
You stepped further into the larger room as Mobius and B-15 made their ways out, the door slamming behind them.
“And who are you?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms.
“Oh,” you let out, surprised he actually talked to you. “I’m [Y/N]. I help Mobius with dangerous variants, but I’m not a field agent, I mostly research sequence violations and do paperwork.”
“Hmm,” he huffed.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence between the two of you. It thickened the air. You wanted to say something, but you didn’t know exactly how to go about a conversation with someone who wasn’t a co-worker.
“Y-You know, I heard what he said to you… about your mom.” You saw his shoulders tense and his face grimace. Okay, [Y/N], maybe not the best first impression. “He didn’t really mean it, though. He’s a nice person, but he’s also a trained agent. If you want answers, the best way to get them is by sparking an emotional reaction. It’s one of the first techniques agents are taught here”
Loki’s brows furrowed as he took in your words.
“That makes sense, I guess,” he said, shrugging. But he still looked incredibly uncomfortable, his arms crossed as if to protect himself as he scanned the unfamiliar room for an escape.
You sighed, walking over to the red chairs and taking a seat right beside him. His eyes no longer had the mischievous glint you saw in the photo- they looked haunted.
“There’s no point in looking for some sort of escape, you’re not gonna find one.”
His eyes snapped towards yours, glaring at you.
“We’ll see about that,” he scoffed. “And when I escape, I’m going to burn this place to the ground.”
“Oh, please, will you stop with all that conquering shit? Just because your life isn’t what you thought it was, doesn’t mean you don’t have a glorious purpose,” you told him, badly emulating his accent towards the end.
“Don’t mock me.” He tried to say intimidatingly, but there was no malice behind it. Instead, he ended up letting out a breathy chuckle.
“You had people that loved you,” you said softly. “I think that’s one of the best things time can give. But I don’t think that’ll ever happen for me here.”
Loki’s eyes trailed over your face, fully taking you in for the first time. He spent a good moment looking at you, at the longing expression on your face.
“How long have you been here?” He asked, his voice matching your softness.
“Too long,” you laughed before rubbing your eyes. “ It could be hundreds of years, thousands? Or maybe even a week, who knows. Time works so differently here”
There was a long beat before he responded. “I’m sure you’ll find someone.”
You smiled at him and you swore you could see the corners of his lips slightly lift.
“If it helps,” Loki started, his voice rising again to its previous grandiose state. “It looks like I’ll be here for a while…” He trailed off, his tone now playful.
You couldn’t help but let out a light laugh at his words. His smirk turned into a full-blown grin at the sound. He couldn’t help but think that he’d happily listen to it for the rest of eternity, even if he had to stay in this hideous beige jumpsuit.
I say it all the time and I will say it again: Tom Hiddleston is a BRILLANT actor and deserves all the awards for his performances! the way he portrayed the same character development of 10 years in just 50 minutes in a way that is so true to the character of Loki but still shows a different side of him is astonishing and shows us AGAIN just how much he cares for Loki!