#professor!loki
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Forbidden Lessons XII
Masterlist
Well, shit.
Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, coercion, unhealthy self-think, depression. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.
Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!
You shudder as you wait outside the closed door. The knock issued from your knuckles only seconds ago echoes in your head. You step back, bouncing on your feet nervously as you resist the urge to pace. You can't remember the last time you were still.
The answer comes in the form of Professor Barnes. He lets the door fall open as he greets you with a chipper expression, his sleeve rolled to his elbow as his hair tufts out awkwardly at his crown. As if he was playing with it in some trance of focus.
"Hi," he greets, "nice to see you."
"Um, mhmm," you nod and cross your arms protectively.
"So, uh, you want to come in? I assume you're here to chat... about the exam?"
"Uh, not... really," you swallow and squeeze your upper arm, "I can't... come in."
You try to hide how the thought scares you. How his invitation reminds you of Professor Laufeyson and his insidious trap. An innocent meeting behind closed doors.
You pull your arms apart and press your palms to your cheeks as you keep your teeth from chattering.
"That's fine," his confusion wrinkles above his brow but his tone remains even, "how can I help you?"
"Well, I..." your hand wanders down your neck and you tug at your turtleneck anxiously before scratching along your nape. You didn't know what to say, you came with a purpose and no plan. "Why did you ask Professor Laufeyson about me?"
His eyes widen in recognition, "ah, alright, I... suppose I could've been more discreet."
"Why?" You repeat and clasp your hands to keep them from fidgeting, swaying as you find it hard to stay in place.
"I was worried. Am, still. I know it's not my place so that's why I gave you that card. It is still my job to make sure my students are able to be successful--"
"You shouldn't worry about me," you say as you look down the hall, "it isn't right."
"I... I'm sorry if came across as anything more than what it was. Really, I'll give it up, okay? You know yourself. If you need help, I'm sure you'll ask."
You sniff and tap your toe as you face him. Your eyes glisten, "thanks."
"So you came to tell me to leave you alone? I think an email would've done the job," he chuckles thinly.
"Maybe," you nibble your lip, "bye."
You turn awkwardly, dragging your feet down the salt-stained carpet.
"What did Laufeyson say exactly?" his voice stops you short.
"He just said you asked about me," you murmur.
"And why would he tell you that?"
You shrug. "Maybe he's worried too."
"Maybe..." he drawls, "did you enjoy the conference?"
"What?" you spin to face him, chest thumping loudly.
"I was there. I saw you wandering around during lunch. I blinked and you were gone--"
"It was fine. I'm fine." You insist and turn on your heel, "I'll see you at the exam."
"Yeah, good luck," he calls after you with a sigh, "be safe."
You shake your head as you storm away. You feel shaky like you might split in two. You're scared. You don't know what to do. You don't know why you can't stop feeling this way. Ashamed, filthy, rotten.
You hate that he cares. You hate that Laufeyson doesn't. And you hate how you can't care about anything at all. Not your exams, not the hunger pitting in your stomach or the pain pinging in your skull. You just want it to end.
💚
You sit in the back of the classroom, deaf to the soft shuffle of paper as Professor Laufeyson walks between the desks, handing out the stapled sheets. You stare at the blonde head in front of you. The curled hair, fragrant with hairspray. You feel grimy, you look it. You feel yourself festering from the inside.
He lays down the exam in front of you and you don't react. He strides away without notice of your desolation. You wait and he declares the start of the three hours. You don't move at first, not until your tears drip onto the bold font along the front page.
You open the booklet and take your pen. Wiggly lines from your quaking hand, thoughts not quite coherent across each line. You read the question back and cross out what you've written, starting over.
Three short answer, you should do four but you skip the last. You don't know the answer, you don't know what he expects. You never knew what he wanted, not until it was too late.
You hunch over the essay portion. You press the ink into the paper so deep in nearly tears. You're stuck in a bubble of silence, undisturbed by the figures around you, the blur of reality drowning you. Tick, tick, tick... the noise of the clock dulls to a drone.
The door shuts heavily and a tut draws you up. You look at Professor Laufeyson as his long fingers rest on the corner of your exam. He wears a blank expression, no mask to hide his sinister truth. You let him take your half-finished test.
"Time's up," he announces.
You peer around. It's just you. Everyone else is gone. You're left undone. You nod and say nothing.
You roll the pens off the desk and take your student card. You bend to lift your bag onto the top as he watches you, squinting down at your sloppy writing. You drop the flap over the top of the knapsack and shoulder it.
You dare to glance at him. A surge flows through you and you can't stop yourself. You rush around the chair and shove him with all your strength.
"I hate you!" you shout, "I hate you! I hate you!" You hit his chest as he drops the paper and catches your wrists to still the onslaught of your rage. You're sobbing as you scream at him.
"Would you quit? This is inappropriate--"
"Isn't it inappropriate to fuck your student? To lie to them? To destroy them and just walk away?" You blubber, unable to hold back, "do you know what you've done?"
He scoffs as he squeezes your wrists, "I did what you let me do."
"Fuck you!" You cry out.
"It wasn't that good," he remarks slyly and flings you away from him, "leave before I report you. Any student that assaults an instructor faces expulsion."
"Assault?" you whimper as you grasp your tender wrist, "what about what you did?"
He snickers and bends to retrieve the paper. He walks away without concern and adds it to the pile on the table along the front. You huff and stomp towards him. He faces you, unafraid.
"You are ridiculous. Do you think I fear you?" he mocks.
You sniff and shake your head, "is there another? Someone else? Before?"
He exhales and drags his bag towards him, putting the exams inside. He is unimpressed by your interrogation.
"I'm about to meet her," he crooks a brow and peeks at you smugly, "you didn't truly think you're that special?"
You snarl as your lip quivers. The tears spill down your cheeks and dampen the collar of your jacket. You dip your chin down and wipe your face with your rough wool cuffs. You turn and walk numbly to the door.
"No," you whisper as you stop and look back at his indifferent shoulders, "but I wanted to be."
#dark loki#loki#dark!loki#professor!loki#loki x reader#bucky barnes#forbidden lessons#series#dark drabble#drabble#dark!drabble#ask drabble#mcu#marvel
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Professor!Loki x Reader: The TA - 3
TA – 3
Oh man. So I had a typo that became its own thing and made the sentence far better. See if you can spot it. And I gotta say, I'm a little geeky for how it ends.
It's a little choppy for time passing but we're finally gonna get to the nitty gritty and oh boy, oh boy (should this story include smut, please answer) Also comments are very much appreciated!
-
Classes came and went on Monday. The whole time you sat through each lesson, you waited anxiously for Professor Laufeyson’s class.
Finally it came time to attend and you hurried into the room, making sure you were plenty early.
None of the students had arrived yet, though it was only fifteen or so minutes before class.
You rushed in breathless, before composing yourself and walking with dignity to your place.
Professor Laufeyson smiled at you, though it could’ve been mistaken for a smirk.
“How was your paper handled?”
“It went well.” You replied. “I feel like I got a strong grade, the presentation went well too. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“I’m sure you could have.”
You felt your cheeks heat up and you quickly walked off to set up your things for the class.
So he had called your bluff. Shit. But on a more interesting note, he didn’t seem upset by how it had gone.
Class passed as uneventfully as it could for the fascinating lecture.
When it ended, Professor Laufeyson once more sat down at his computer while the students shuffled out.
Unsure of what to do, you started packing your bags.
“A moment, if you will.” He said right as you were standing to leave.
You turned back and stared at him blankly.
“I still have your time, no?”
“Yea, I guess so.”
“Good. I need things printed in my office.”
“Oh sure, of course.”
Professor Laufeyson stood up, carefully putting his things away before walking side by side with you to the door. When you reached it, he stepped to the side and extended his arm, motioning for you to leave first.
You smiled timidly and took the offering, scooting out into the hall.
Professor Laufeyson followed you and again you continued walking, side by side. He seemed to have changed his pace to match yours.
As you walked, his hand brushed against yours and you stiffened. Every instinct in you wanting to stop and acknowledge it, but you forced yourself to keep walking, staring straight ahead. You held your breath.
When the two of you finally reached his office, you sat down and finally breathed, gasping for air as quietly as you could.
Professor Laufeyson looked over at you while he stood at his desk. “Are you alright?”
“Asthma.” You lied. You couldn’t admit that the simple act of touching his hand had riled you up this much.
He nodded curtly. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
You suddenly worried he would remember your lie and hold it against you. You thought of other things he could hold against you, and you forced your mind from the gutter. “Sorry, I meant allergies, the dust in this building, you know?”
“Right of course, well if it’s difficult for you in my office…” He trailed off.
“No, no, just the hallways, that stairway gets stuffy.” You quickly explained, wondering what he would offer if you couldn’t work in his office. Maybe he would have a different TA and you’d be fired.
“Ah, yes. So I’ve heard.”
You managed a smile.
“Do you think you could handle printing these papers for me while I begin grading?”
“Absolutely!” You moved towards his desk to see what he wanted more specifically.
“There’s a copier in the corner. Just one print and the rest should be fine.”
“Gotcha.”
Professor Laufeyson let out a long suffering sigh. “I never get the thing to work for me. It always jams.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” You turned and walked over to the copier, back to him and began examining the machine. Right now there were no jams, all should be fine. Feeling eyes on your back, you turned around and gave him a thumbs up. “All clear here.”
“Where is the damned print on this page?” Professor Laufeyson scowled as he leaned forward to search the page.
“Hey, let me help.” You offered soothingly.
Arriving at his side you bent over, wondering if you should start wearing lower cut shirts for such times. Or perhaps that was highly inappropriate.
Lusting after your boss was probably more inappropriate.
“Ah, here’s your key.”
“Show me.” Loki kept his hand on the mouse and stared at the screen.
Biting your lip, you placed your hand on his and guided the cursor over to the desired location.
His hands were large and cool, easily engulfing the mouse. You thought of how they would look wrapped around your hand.
Even your chest felt flushed at that idea and you were suddenly grateful for your more modest attire.
You couldn’t see Professor Laufeyson’s eyes flicker down to your hand resting on his before he quickly returned his attention to the screen.
Once again, you accidentally brushed your chest against his shoulder and you felt yourself stiffen as you saw him straighten up.
“There?” He asked abruptly.
“Yea, see?” You tried to keep the choking sound out of your voice but succeeded in more of a high pitched squeak.
“Ah, I see now. Thank you.” He turned to face you and you saw he was close to staring at your chest if he wanted. Professor Laufeyson abruptly looked up at your face.
Now you cursed the modest attire.
You quickly moved your hand off his and gripped your wrist behind your back, waiting for his next move.
“I think that will be enough. The paper I need copying is already on it, I just didn’t trust it to work.”
“Right.” You scrambled over to the copier, not looking back. Once again, you felt eyes on you, suddenly very self-conscious. Now aware of each micro-movement, you thought of how each movement might look from behind and tried to act thusly. Should you try and accent your ass as you bent over or should you take the more appropriate approach and try and act subtle.
Part of you wasn’t sure if he was just watching to see how you did it, or actually looking at you.
Maybe it was time to start dressing different.
After you finished your task, you brought the papers to his desk and set them down. Professor Laufeyson nodded gratefully before asking you how the rest of your day had gone.
You told him about the spaghetti dinner, finishing your work, and then winding down with some dumb television show.
Loki nodded, staring expressionless as he listened to each thing you had to say.
You rambled for a while, talking about your day, your other classes. You didn’t have a lot of friends these days, being a graduate student and all. Most of the friends you had made had either moved on to different colleges or just called it quits when they got their degree. Tory was pretty much your only lifeline outside of class and work, but she was a few years behind you and more prone to traditional college life.
“Not you?” Professor Laufeyson asked.
“I mean, if she invites me to a party, I guess I’ll go. But binge drinking and being surrounded by sweaty co-eds just isn’t my thing these days.”
Professor Laufeyson smirked. “A more refined pallet.”
You laughed. “I mean, I guess.”
“What do you do instead?”
“So much studying.” You shook your head. “I’m constantly overloaded with work, and my thesis.”
“How is that going?”
This was a subject you were passionate on and you quickly began rambling about it. Discussing the things you had learned while researching it, getting annoyed by opposing viewpoints, and almost whining about how you had to agree with the opposing viewpoints just so you could write a more solid argument. You had been on so many forums while researching and the people there.
You stopped, realizing it had been almost an hour that you had discussed the paper. “Sorry, this is probably boring to you. Some dumb graduate student’s thesis.”
“I don’t think you’re dumb.”
“What?”
“Far from it. I find you engaging and intelligent, I think you will do well with this subject matter. And if I can be of any assistance, I would be more than happy for you to call upon me.”
Your heart swelled under the compliment and you nodded eagerly. “Sure, definitely!” With a sigh, you remembered the time. “I should probably leave before it gets too dark again. I don’t want to be alone on campus with all these creeps.”
“I can accompany you.”
You blinked and looked at him. Biting back a smile, and the urge to bite your lip, you said, “alright.”
“Stay longer, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of things to do for your work and you can do your classwork too. It’s probably much saner than the library and with a roommate.”
“Oh man, you have no idea. I mean you probably do, but still.”
Loki chuckled. “Yes. Quite true.”
-
And so your Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays passed. Each day you were there, you would stay late into the evening, studying in his office and having him walk you to your apartment.
Eventually you started visiting his office on non-class days. Claiming it was quieter and calmer than the library, just a better environment.
You loved the smell of old books, the wooden desk, and above all his musky scent lingering in the air. Not that you would mention that last bit.
For his part, Professor Laufeyson seemed pleased at your presence. It was evident he did not spend much time with his coworkers, preferring to be off on his own. But for cutting his ties with potential friends, he was lonely. At least you surmised by the way his face lit up when you walked into the room with your bag on your shoulder, and ready to talk about whatever bullshit of the day you had.
Professor Laufeyson even started opening up to you.
By his accent, he confirmed he was not from the states. Though he did not specify where, citing that it was a smaller country out around Europe that was often forgotten.
He had a brother, adopted, he was the adopted one rather. And you started to pick up on a strained relationship with his father. His mother did a great deal of traveling so he rarely saw her anymore, not that it mattered living so far away. He seemed sad talking about his mother and you could tell he had a very close relationship to her.
When Professor spoke of Frigga, there was a forlorn look in his eyes and a sense of lostness. He looked small and uncertain. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and hold him so he would return to his normal cool and collected exterior.
He had a love of poetry, and old literature and was quoting classics to you at different times. Especially his fondness for Shakespeare.
Then one day, when you walked into his office, Professor Laufeyson was standing with his back to the door, looking out the window.
“What’s up?” You asked, slowly setting your bag down. Unfortunately, you had given in to your desire to start dressing more provocatively. Even going shopping to get more flattering clothes.
Professor Laufeyson turned around. “Today is Wednesday, yes?”
You thought and nodded.
“I have a symposium this weekend. Out of state, I’ll have to take a plane there.”
You nodded slowly, expecting him to ask you to cover his class. You had started teaching different lessons for him while he worked on other research he was doing for his job. The two of you made a very cohesive team unit.
“I leave Friday, immediately after my class.”
“Right.”
“I was wondering if you wished to accompany me.”
“What?” You gasped.
“There will be a hotel to stay at. The speaking that you could attend different guest lectures if you wanted. I believe there’s to be a section on your thesis as well.”
Your mind blanked when he said hotel. Two beds of course. You quickly reminded yourself.
But to get such first hand experience for your thesis? To fly on an airplane, with Professor Laufeyson no less?
And what’s more, a weekend almost alone with him?
Your crushing heart swooned.
Outwardly you forced yourself to keep a relatively straight face as you smiled, all perception of calmness and replied, “Yea, I’d love y-to.”
Loki tilted his head and you quickly repeated. “Love to. I’d love to go.” Had you almost said “love you” to him?
Professor Laufeyson didn’t seem to catch it or he didn’t acknowledge it. He smiled. “Excellent, I’ll get you the itinerary for tomorrow so you can know how to pack and if there’s anything else you should bring.”
“This isn’t an inconvenience to you, is it?”
“To me?”
“Well, I imagine there’s a second plane ticket involved, and I’ll be trailing you around…”
Professor Laufeyson chuckled. “No, not at all. I was offered to bring a guest if I wanted and I figured you could benefit more than any of my colleagues.”
“Great! I don’t have money to afford that.”
“All expenses covered, darling, don’t worry.”
You shivered at the pet name and nodded. “Alright.”
-
Thursday passed like sludge, dragging on for hours before you could get to Professor Laufeyson’s office and hide away from the drudgery of underclassmen life. The conversations you held with people in some of your classes just felt so trivial after the intellectual conversations you had had with Professor Laufeyson. And everything about his office was just cozier and more inviting to you. Even the now warmer presence of your boss.
Professor Laufeyson walked you back to your apartment as he did every night, now that it was so dark earlier and much colder.
You shivered in the cold and longed for him to wrap his arm around you but that was just… well crazy.
He left you at your apartment, an air of anticipation about him and waited for you to get inside before you could hear him walking away.
-
Then Friday came and went, in a blur, and you were finally at his class.
You sat antsy at your desk, trying to take notes like you were supposed to, to make a test for them the next week. But your mind kept drifting to the animated way that he spoke. His arms moving and walking back and forth, gesticulating with his hands and the cadence of his voice.
Professor Laufeyson had taken off his blazer that day and was just in a tight black button up shirt. You could really see his defined features beneath the shirt and smirked to yourself at the strain of the buttons.
Your suitcase was tucked underneath his desk, so as not to raise a fuss with the students or set any rumors flying. Afterall, it was just a symposium.
And then class was over.
Professor Laufeyson walked to his desk, running his hand through his hair before impatiently looking at the slowly shuffling students.
One of the students, too intimidated by Loki, walked up to you and asked you about a point they didn’t understand. You did your best to explain, feeling Professor Laufeyson’s impatient stare on the two of you.
Then the student finally left and it was just the two of you.
“Are you ready?” Professor Laufeyson asked.
You nodded, throat dry.
“Good, I’ll drive us to the airport and then we’ll go from there.”
The two of you exited the building together, Loki holding your suitcase and you made your way over to staff parking. Evidently Loki had already packed with his things in the car.
Your mouth fell open when you stopped at the black Jaguar he drove. That didn’t seem right for a professor’s salary.
Professor Laufeyson walked around to the passenger door and held it open, motioning for you to get in.
You cursed yourself for wearing a shorter skirt and having to crouch so much to get in the low car. Trying not to make a show of it, you shimmied into the car as fast as you could and he shut the door behind you.
Then Loki was in the car and the two of you were off, racing to the airport.
The excitement in the air was palpable and Professor Laufeyson spoke the whole way there, explaining the weekend, the different lectures, how it would go, just things you needed to know. There was so much information you found yourself missing parts as you tried not to stare at him the whole time and instead looked out the window as much as possible. Without seeming rude, you hoped.
You arrived at the airport, parked, checked in, got patted down by the TSA, and then after a bit of waiting, boarded the plane.
You were in the nicer part of the plane where each row had two seats, the aisle and then the other two seats.
This was a nice symposium, very well paid for, you realized.
“Do you want the window seat? Have you ever been on a plane before?”
You shook your head. “I haven’t but yes, I’d love the window seat.”
Even with the somewhat spacious seats, you were still scrunched against Loki. He tried to keep his legs as close together as possible, but he was very tall for seats and evidently pained by it.
You tried not to think of his junk. Your mind drifting to dirtier thoughts about assisting him with any pain or joining the mile high club.
So, to keep yourself from anything untoward, you focused your attention on the window and the world passing below.
“What do you think?” Professor Laufeyson asked as you leaned into the window.
“This is incredible.”
“The novelty quickly wears off when you’re stuck between people or have been on a plane multiple times.”
“I don’t see how it ever could.” You breathed, looking out the window at the perfect square plots of farmland below.
Loki cleared his throat. “You have a hair hanging…” He trailed off.
You searched your face, running your hand through your hair trying to figure out which one was the offending piece. Then Loki reached forward and brushed a few stray strands of hair that had been hanging on your cheek and tucked it behind your ear. He smiled at you and pulled back.
Your breath was going to come in short quick gasps if you didn’t get ahold of yourself soon. “Thanks.” You whispered.
“Of course.”
Eventually the novelty of the flight did wear some. The seats weren’t very comfortable and the ceiling was low. You felt a little claustrophobic in this flying tube of people and the dull hum of the plane’s engines outside started to lull you to sleep. Leaning back in your chair, you tried to fall asleep and eventually, lost yourself to the dream world.
-
You woke up, head resting on someone’s shoulder, their head leaning against yours.
Blinking, and not daring to move and disturb them, you realized it wasn’t a someone, it was Professor Laufeyson.
His soft black hair tickled your skin as he dozed. You imagined the two of you looked very much like a couple.
Your face heated up and you quickly closed your eyes, feigning sleep.
Loki woke up, startled that he had fallen asleep. He moved to straighten up when he felt something heavy on his shoulder. Looking down, he saw that you had fallen asleep leaning against him. A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth as he stayed absolutely still so as not to disturb you.
-
Sometime between feigning sleep, you actually became asleep. You woke up and quickly pulled your head from Professor Laufeyson’s shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“
He held up his hand. “You’re quite alright. Airplanes have a tendency to put the most stoic person to sleep.”
The pilot interrupted you over the intercom before you could respond. “We’re beginning our descent. We’ve arrived at your destination.”
You quickly pulled away from Professor Laufeyson and prepared for the landing.
The landing was far scarier than the take off, but you managed to retain your dignity as you dug your nails into the armrest.
Then you were exiting the plane and through the airport and out to the waiting shuttle. It was a short drive to the hotel. You were ready to lay down fully, at least for a few minutes, before anything else happened.
Walking side by side, you reached the hotel clerk.
Loki spoke. “Loki Laufeyson checking in, with guest.”
“Oh, I see. Sir, you requested separate beds but there’s been a mix up.”
You and Loki exchanged shocked looks.
“What type of mix up?” Loki asked, his voice dangerous.
“Well it seems the hotel is booked solid and there’s only one bed.”
#loki x reader#Loki laufeyson#loki laufeyson x you#reader insert#professor!Loki#ficbit#multi chapter
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School Love Affair Event: Loki (of course I would choose Loki) college au, but both Loki and the reader are professors! Coworkers to friends to lovers 😌💖 They often hang out in each other's classes and the students love them!
omg this is such a good idea, i would've never thought of this on my own
school love affair masterlist
~~~
"Well class, that will be all for today. Remember to study for your exam tomorrow. I'll see you all next week!" You said as you finished cleaning off the blackboard. You watched and waved as students walked out the class. When all the students had left, you began packing up your stuff. You heard a knock on the door, looking up to see Professor Laufeyson (or Loki, as he insisted you call him) standing there with 2 cups of coffee and a bag full of pastries.
"I figured you could use some energy before you started grading all these papers." Loki said as they walked over to you and handed you a cup of coffee and the bag. You smiled as you took the items, balancing them in one hand.
"Thank you so much, that's so considerate. The next coffee is on me, I promise." You said as you and Loki walked out the door.
"There's no need for that. I was actually wondering if you could help me with something."
"Yeah, of course. What is it?" I asked as I looked over at him. They looked nervous about something.
"I was wondering if you wanted to meet up outside our classrooms? Like at a cafe or something? I uh, I-I need help with lesson plans and you're the best person I know at making them." They asked as they rubbed their hand at the back of their neck.
"Oh yeah, of course! I have like 2 more classes today though, so does tomorrow work for you?" You asked as the two of you stopped in front of your office. Loki smiled, nodding.
"Yeah that's perfect. Does noon work for you?"
"Yeah, just text me the location of the cafe. See you tomorrow, Professor Laufeyson!" You said as you stepped into your office.
~~~
You walked into the cafe, your planning binder tucked under your arm and your hand wrapped around the straps of your laptop carrier. You looked around for Professor Laufeyson - Loki - and saw him sitting at a table by the back window. "Good afternoon, Professor." You said as you sat down. Loki looked up from his book and chuckled, rolling his eyes.
"How many times have I told you that you can call me Loki?" He asked. You pretended to think for a moment before shrugging.
"I don't know- possibly 100 at this point? One tends to lose track after the first 25." You joked as you sat your planning binder on the table.
"Well try harder. Do you want me to go get you a cup of coffee?" Loki asked as they started to stand up.
"Oh you don't have to do that! I can go get it myself, it's not a problem." You said quickly.
Loki gave you a small smile, causing your heart to flutter. "I insist. I'll be right back." They said before walking away. They're so nice. You thought to yourself. Wait, I shouldn't be thinking like this. Loki and I are just co-workers. We have to be professional.
"What's going on in that beautiful little head of yours?" Loki asked as he sat the fresh cup of coffee down in front of you.
"O-Oh, nothing important. Just thinking about testing next week." You lied as smoothly as possible.
"Well, I'm sure you're students will pass with flying colors. After all, you are their teacher." Loki complimented as he looked at you. You blushed, taking a sip of your coffee.
"Thank you. Now, about these lesson plans."
~~~
These "lesson planning" dates continued on into the next semester, you and Loki meeting at that same cafe every Saturday to do you lesson plans. Loki had become more bold with their flirting, causing you to become even more of a blabbering mess in front of him. "You're cute when you blush." They had said to you one day.
You were currently sitting at the desk in your office, typing away as you responded to emails from students and other professors. You were so busy that you didn't hear Loki knocking at your door.
"Y/N? Are you there?" They asked as they waved a hand in your face. You looked up at them and smiled.
"Sorry, I was focused on these emails. What's up?" You asked as you have him your full attention. He looked like he was hiding something behind his back.
"I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me?" Loki asked nervously. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Loki was asking you out? I mean sure he had been flirting with you for a while now, but you thought it was in the way friends joked about dating. "Y/N?"
"Oh! Yeah, I'd love that." You said softly as you gave them a timid smile. They returned the smile and revealed what was hidden behind their back; a bouquet of your favorite flowers.
"Great, I'll text you later." Loki said as they walked out the classroom with extra pep in their step. You smiled down at the flowers, giving them a quick sniff. They're so adorable. You thought before getting back to responding to emails.
#school love affair 🏫#marvel#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson#professor!loki#idiots to lovers#coworkers to lovers#professor!reader#professor!loki x professor!reader#loki laufeyson x fem!reader#loki laufeyson fluff#college au
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I swear, if i dont see that gif of loki sleeping on his desk in a professor!loki fic I will cry, its gold
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Professor Loki with Norse tattoos (tattoos explained here)
#Loki#loki laufeyson#loki au#professor!loki#marvel#mcu#Loki fanart#marvel fanart#fanart#digital art#my art#tattoos#just Loki with tattoos#that’s all I really want
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Forbidden Lessons X
Masterlist
Another part? Sue me. (Pls don’t).
Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, coercion. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.
Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!
The car idles as you stare out the window. The freshly cleared roads give little comfort at the prospect of the long road home.
You chew your thumb as you glance over at the wooden moniker of the pharmacy. As if summoned, Professor Laufeyson emerges with a paper bag in hand. He doesn’t look happy.
The door opens and he drops into the seat, handing over the bag without looking at you. He gives another of his long sighs, a habit that’s underlined the tense morning. Strained silences and terse words. You feel as if you’ve done something wrong, yet all you’ve done is exactly what he wants.
“There should be instructions or what have you,” he shifts into gear and checks the rearview before craning to see behind him.
He backs out as you grasp the bag and open the top, peering inside at the long box. You slide it out and read the side then turn it over. ‘Dosage and indications inside’. You pop open the flap and take out the single pill in the aluminum shell. You unfold the sheets of instructions and squint at the tiny font.
“As I understand, it’s rather straightforward. You’ve seventy-two hours to take safeguards,” he turns out of the lot and turns up the heat.
“Um, yeah, sorry, just reading–”
“The chemist said the sooner the better. I know neither of us desire any other outcome,” he advises as he focuses on the road.
“Sure, uh,” you fold up the instructions, not wanting to argue.
You push the capsule through the seal and reach for the small bottle of water you took from the hotel. You place the tablet on your tongue and take a deep gulp. You swallow, keeping back as you nearly choke and cap the water, placing it back in the holder. You breathe out. Easy.
“Are you upset?” you ask.
“Upset?” he repeats dully.
“Mhmm, you seem… mad. Did I do something?”
“Well, that you didn’t mention your lack of precaution is a bit irksome,” he says, “but I’m more tired. The conference, the late night… I am a very busy man. You will understand when you’re older.”
You cross your arms and make yourself small. You feel miniscule, insignificant. Professor Laufeyson, esteemed scholar, and this pathetic, measly first year.
“I do long for the days I was but a naive pupil, when a lecture was the most of my worries,” he hums, “oh, but do not take it for granted.”
“I’m sorry, I… I understand.”
“You can try to,” he says dismissively, “but you can’t.”
He flicks the radio on and turns the knob, the deep tones of strings filling the car. You clamp your lips shut and turn your attention to the heaps of snow and grey sky.
You lean against the door, the shift grazing your tenderness and stoking a flutter in your core. The pain remains. What’s worse is how he seems to want to forget it just as much as you.
💚
You sit in the front row of Professor Laufeyson’s class, as you have every week since the first. You listen to his final remarks, his reminder of the upcoming finals, and tidings for the looming winter break. Students pack up as he does the same, intent upon his leather bag and the folio he slides into the pocket.
He folds up his laptop as you approach, your peers streaming out the double doors in a tired buzz. This late in the semester and all are wilting beneath the avalanche of exams and paper. You included, however, you find it hard to focus with the shadow of him lurking in your mind.
It’s been a week since your trip out of town. A week since you’ve seen him. Since he did what he did.
“Hi,” you stop on the other side of the podium, a smile.
“Mm, hello,” he barely looks up as you hug your notebook to your chest.
“How are you?”
“As well as any, I suppose,” he doesn’t look up as he zips up his bag, “is there something I can help you with?”
You flinch. When he looks at you, it’s cold and empty. Your chest sinks and your stomach tangles. You swallow down your embarrassment.
“It’s about the exam,” you lie, “is there multiple choice?”
He narrows his eyes and his brows raise, almost as if he thinks of you as a pest. He scoffs, “no, written. Completely. Short answer and an exam, as I said–”
“Sorry, I must’ve missed that,” you tamp down your hurt.
You don’t understand. All those things he said. He called you beautiful, he said you were all he thought about, that all he wanted was you. He made you feel like no one else ever did and now, you’re nothing to him.
He pulls on his jacket and hooks his bag over his shoulder. He checks his watch, “is that everything?”
You gape at him. That last week, cramping, bleeding, vomiting. You went back and read the booklet, it’s all to be expected but no less unpleasant.
“I’m not pregnant,” you say.
“Shhh,” he hisses as he steps towards you. You wince and back away, frightened by his abruptness, “do not say that so loud.”
“I…” your eyes round, “I thought you’d want to know.”
“Good,” he gives you a curt look, “modern science works. Like I ever doubted it.”
His sarcasm cuts deep, his indifference more so. What would he do if you were pregnant? If he had made an unfixable mistake?
You’re stunned. Like someone slapped you. Like time has stopped. The air traps in your chest as he tries to sidle by you. You turn to follow him.
“Did you ever care about me?” you ask as you trail his long strides.
He halts so you nearly collide with him and spins to face you. He jabs his finger at you as his eyes flare, “be quiet. You could get in a lot of trouble.”
“What? But you said— did you lie to me?”
He rolls his eyes, “I said what you wanted to hear and you believed it. You made your choices, you got on your back for me. Easily. I barely had to do any work. We both got we wanted.”
Your lip quivers as the tears well and spill over, “no, I…” you gasp, “you lied.”
“Oh, don’t be a child,” he sneers, “you shouldn’t open your legs like an adult if you can’t act as one.”
You stumble back, as if he’s struck you. Your chest caves in as your heart hammers. You shake your head and flick away the tears, “you’re a bad man.”
“And you’re a stupid girl,” he retorts, “now, I’ve more important things to tend to. Good evening.”
You gulp and turn on your heel, stumbling away from him, up the steps to the rear entrance, too embarrassed to follow him out. You hear the lower doors open and close before you can clatter through those at the top of the lecture hall. You burst through and hit the opposite wall.
You turn your back to the cold brick slide down down, hanging your head over your notebook as your tears stain the cover. You sniffle and sob in the empty hall, quivering as doom slowly consumes you. You put the heels of your hands to your eyes as you fall apart.
“Excuse me,” the deep voice startles you.
You snort and sit up as you mop your face. Your puffy eyes barely make out Professor Barnes as he bends over you curiously. You wipe your nose with your sleeve and he straightens as you push yourself to your feet.
“Hi, professor,” you utter.
“Are you okay?” he asks, looking up and down the corridor around him.
“Yeah, I…” you rub your lips together and wet them with your tongue, tasting the salt of your tears, “I just got a bad mark. I’ll make it up.”
He frowns and you shy away, “are you sure?”
“Yes,” you say, too quickly as you lift your bag and shuffle away from him, “I’ll see you in class.”
“Uh, alright,” he accepts with an air of confusion, “take care of yourself.”
You nod, but he probably doesn’t see it. What does it matter? No one could truly care about you.
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#loki x reader#professor!loki#drabble#series#dark drabble#ask drabble#dark!drabble#forbidden lessons#mcu#marvel
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soo, how do you feel about teacher/student AUs. I prefer college ones so no underageness......
outofmagic: I'll be honest, I actually do like college student/professor AUs. A few weeks ago, I wrote an AU where when Loki feel from the Bifrost, he actually fell into an alternate universe just outside of Hogwarts. Loki became a professor there and I definitely... I definitely have a thing for professor!Loki, either Hogwarts professor or just a regular college professor.
Underaged relationships though, those are things I don't like to get into. Those freak me out and, honestly, they freak Loki out too. He wouldn't ever consider sleeping with someone who isn't of age.
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More sketches of my Professor Loki!
And yes he would have ton of tattoos all related to Norse Mythology. Fenrir who swallows the sun meaning the start of Ragnarök, Yggdrasil on his forearm, Jörmungandr the world serpent on his bicep, and a raven over his heart that matches his brother’s
#loki#loki laufeyson#professor!loki#marvel#mcu#loki fanart#marvel fanart#fanart#digital art#my art#sketches#very messy sketches#norse mythology
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Forbidden Lessons IX
Masterlist
It’s Sinday. Please let me know if you want me to keep going with these.
Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, coercion. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.
Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!
You hold your breath as he slides his tip down your pelvis, raising himself as he pokes down along your folds. Your vision blurs as horror swells to your throat, heart pounding in your ears as the dim light of the lamp sparkles in the sheen of your tears.
You blink them away and close your eyes as you feel him wet himself along your cunt.
He leans into you, cautiously. You whimper as you bend your legs to cradle him. He plants his elbow as he caresses your forehead and down your cheek.
“Pet, it’s okay, just a little pain at first,” he pulls back, once more spreading the slickness with his throbbing head. He exhales and aligns once more with your entrance, “I’ll be good to you.”
He inches into you, just his tip as he twitches and grunts. He pecks your temple as his body wracks and you grip the blankets beneath in tight fists, toes curling as you hold in the agony. He rocks his hips gently, tilting in and out of you, just a little, slipping a bit further each time.
You turn your head and bite down on your lip, a gritty whine as he dips in deeper and deeper. The motion of his body is even and patient, stretching you more and more as your walls clench around him. He’s too much. It’s all too much.
A tear trickles out as he gets halfway in and he groans. You sniffle and let out a shrill cry. He hushes you as he pets your head, whispering in your ear, “it’s alright, pet, you’re doing so good, yes, you are. Almost there.”
Your body shakes as his hand wanders down your side, resting on your hip as he angles your hips and sinks in even further. You exclaim again at the strike of pain up your spine and he quickly smothers it with his palm, shushing you as he repeats his gentle encouragement.
“I know it hurts, it always hurts the first time, but you can do it. I know you can–” he sucks in air as he pushes past the resistance, almost completely sheathed in you, “you can take me, pet. You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”
He shakes as his muscles knot, his hand snugly across your lips as you murmur, tears cascading freely along the edge of his fingers. You lightly touch his side, just along his lower stomach, begging him to stop wordlessly.
He growls and slowly pushes himself back, turning his hand on your chin as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, hooking inside to press down on your tongue. You garble around him, biting down on his knuckles as he snaps his hips suddenly. He buries himself to his hilt and you kick out around him.
He looks down between your legs, snarling as he slips out of you to his tip then back in. You grab his wrist, clinging to him as you try not to gag around his fingers. He thrusts slowly, entranced as his eyes linger at the joining of your bodies. You shake uncontrollably as he speeds up, little by little.
He sighs as he slides out but swiftly presses against your entrance once more. He rams into you without mercy and you holler around his fingers. Your hand slips up his forearm as he drags his grasp from your mouth and to your throat. He pins you down as you rasp against his clutches, the bed bouncing beneath you as his rhythm grows harsher.
He bucks against you without restraint, his other hand spreading across your stomach as he holds you down. He loses all affection as he holds you against the mattress, using you as all control flies away from him. His eyes darken as they pinpoint on your body, weak against his.
His grunts and snarls fill your ears, adding to the dizziness of the pain flowing through your veins. You don’t like this. There is no pleasure in him conquering you.
You bat your lashes through the tears and let your head loll above his grip. You stare as the picture hung over the antique side table as the air grates in your tight throat. A woman in white sat by the river, tossing petals over the calm surface. She wears an Edwardian gown, light and careless in the breeze.
You glance at the edge of the window. The thick white snow trimming the edges and dimming the room. The frigid winter seeps in and crawls over you with the chill of your horror and humiliation.
There’s no going back now. This is it. He’s had you, every piece of you.
He rolls his hips and bends over you. He kisses your lips as he draws his hand from your neck and hooks his arm around you instead. He lifts you with him and you sink onto his lap with a squeal. He keeps his mouth on yours, suffocating your agony as he guides your hip with a steady hand.
You grasp his shoulders, trying to ease the pressure on your pelvis. Your flesh slaps against him as he urges you on, faster and faster, working your body like a toy. It doesn’t feel special anymore. It feels base and blemished.
He parts from your lips as he groans, hanging his head back to pant at the canopy. You let your head fall forward and dangle against his shoulder. You sob as he stills you, thrusting from below as he quakes.
“Oh, pet,” he growls as he ruts madly, “oh, here I–”
You feel the warmth flood into you, a squelching noise as his motion turns erratic, slowing in spasms as he eases you down. He huffs and drops his head down, nuzzling your hair as he keeps you on him, his shuddery breaths washing over you.
He gives a content purr and carefully lays you down below him, laying over you as he gathers his wits. He blows out and grunts, sliding out of you as a deluge leaks onto the quilt. You’re hollow and sore as he flops onto his back beside you, twitching as his shiny dick rests against his stomach.
You reach down to touch your cunt, his release dripping out and coating your fingers. You sit up and try to see it, a chill coursing through you.
He touches your back, fingers stirring your anxiety, “I… the condoms are in my bag,” he snickers, “I suppose I got caught up, but you are protected, yes?”
You stare at your slimy fingers. You’re numb as you shake your head, “no… I never…”
He sighs heavily, displeased.
“Ah,” he pulls his hand back, “well, let us deal with it in the morning.”
“Deal with it?” His sudden blunt demeanour alarms you, he’s almost detached as he sits up and drains the cold dregs of his tea and grumbles in disgust.
“We cannot have any accidents, especially nothing so telling as that,” he stands stretches his shoulder with a moan, “be a dear and put the kettle on.” He strides away, leaving you on the bed, alone. He calls back to you as he enters the bathroom, “and call for some fresh bedding. What a mess you’ve made.”
He shuts the door and you stare dumbly at the wood. You wipe away your tears with the back of your hand and slowly move to the edge of the bed. You smear the cum on your fingers across the quilt and ball it up, trying to hide away your shame.
Stupid. So stupid. You didn’t even think about a condom or pills. This could be very bad indeed but you trust him. He is your professor. He know everything you don’t.
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#loki x reader#professor!loki#forbidden lessons#drabble#series#dark drabble#dark!drabble#ask drabble#mcu#marvel
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Forbidden Lessons VIII
Forbidden Lessons | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
It’s Sinday. Please let me know if you want me to keep going with these.
Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, unwanted touching, coercion, fingering. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.
Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!
A shiver ripples through the warmth of his touch. He pushes the flannel higher and higher as you hug the pillow. He reveals your body inch by inch, kneading the flesh as he explores every nook and cranny. Exploring what’s never been discovered by any other.
Your muscles are tight, knotted, and he loosens them with his long fingers. You can’t help how your voice slips out. You can’t resist how good it feels just to be touched, more so to be tended to so diligently. The tension of years unravels beneath his delicate but deliberate attention.
“Is that nice, pet?” Professor Laufeyson asks as he bends over you, his whisper tickling your ear.
You hum in acquiescence, you couldn't speak if you tried. He trails along your neck, another tingle radiating down your back. He slips his hand along your shoulder and carefully nudges you.
“Turn over, darling,” he coos.
You blink in surprise. You think of stopping him. Of telling him you’re tired and pulling down the nightgown. How can you? After he’s been so good to you? You’ve come this far, haven’t you? To this hotel with him, it’s rather immature to think it wouldn’t go any further.
You let him flip you over and he bunches up the fabric beneath your chest, rolling it up to your chin. You lift your arms and blow out a quivery breath as he untangles it from your head. You only notice then he’s naked too, as you are. Entirely bare to those strange walls.
His arms, thick and long, lead to broad shoulders, corded with muscle, his chest equally defined but his stomach slightly softer with his years. You refuse to look any lower as he stretches out next to you, nestling closer as his heat roils over you. You shudder and give a pathetic squeak.
“Darling, you don’t need to be afraid,” he soothes as he caresses your cheek, “may I have a kiss?”
You turn your head to face him and give a small nod, lashes fluttering. He bows down to meet your lips as he frames your chin. His hand continues down your neck as his tongue dips into your mouth. Your leg bends slightly as a thrill rattles your nerves.
He kisses you more intently the lower he gets, trailing along your chest and cupping you gently, circling his thumb around your nipple. You murmur into his mouth and bring your hand to press against his firm muscle. He’s strong, despite his age. Or perhaps because of it.
He squeezes, pinching and tweaking until you whimper. A little rougher each time, dragging his hand across to linger on the other side of your chest. You breath him in, smothered, it’s too late to stop him.
Your thighs quiver as his fingertips dance down your stomach, gripping the soft flesh around your hip and brushing down to your bottom. You twitch against him, his lips parting to chuckle softly over you, “pet, it’s okay… I’m just… admiring you.”
He runs his fingers around your thigh and draws the line of your pelvis carefully. He presses his lips back to yours as he tickles the bottom of your vee, delving between your folds as he hooks a leg around yours. He pulls it wider as he rubs your tender bud.
You croak and dig your nails into his shoulder. Sparks ping into your stomach, radiating over your flesh, growing hotter as he twirls his fingers around and around. You arch your foot and your back as he easily coils your pleasure around his touch.
He urges further back, running his fingers back up to your clit then down again, edging along your entrance. You slicken beneath him, you feel it, you even hear it. You turn your face away and gasp at your own delight.
“That feel good, pet?” he purrs against your cheek.
You nod and stutter, “y-y-yes…”
“Mmhmm,” he kisses your cheekbone, prodding at your entrance, “you’re so soft, so warm.”
Your mouth opens in a silent cry as he pushes his fingertip against your cunt, slowly entering you. Your hand falls to his chest, fingers bracing him as his long digit gets deeper and deeper. The pain nips at the fog of pleasure and has you whimpering.
“Shhh,” he hushes, “it’s alright, pet, it will hurt a little, but I will be slow.”
He slides back then back in, over and over as your walls ache. He tickles you with another finger and slips it in with the other, stretching you around two as you cry out. He shifts to put his arm beneath your head, snugly against you as he rocks his hand.
He presses firmly to your bud as he moves his fingers in a steady motion. Your eyes bead with tears and you close them as you try to hold in the pathetic sounds of your agony. You can’t let him know. He’s been so nice to you.
He nuzzles your neck, kissing along the line of your throat. His fingers work more fervently, curving until a weight builds at their tips. He tilts his hand, the thrumming of your clit and tight intrusion mingling together in a ball of fiery pleasure.
You clutch his hair as you cling to him, arching your back deeper as he breathes against the top of your chest. He speeds up, groaning as he watches his hand, your heart beat hammering as he coaxes you towards climax. You sputter and groan, gulping and gasping as you succumb to the tides, sinking deep down into the roaring depths.
You spasm as your cunt clenches around him. He rubs your clit as he rocks his hand against you, drawing out your orgasm as you whine and slap your hand down on the bed. Breathless and weak, you twitch as he eases you down and his hand stills, fingers still buried inside you.
He lifts his head to kiss your cheek, then your lips, softly, unlike what he’s just done. The trespass that leaves you tender and torrid. He sighs and it glosses over you as he presses his lips to your temple.
He slips his fingers out of you, dragging them over your clit so you squeak, and leaves a wet line up your stomach. He pushes himself up and over you, knees settling between your as he frames your head in his hand, he hovers just above, gazing down at you through dreamy lashes.
“Darling, I think you’re ready for me.”
“Ready?” you blink dumbly, “what–”
He lowers his hips until his hard length rests against you and he wiggles, droning at the sensation as he quivers, “I cannot hold out any longer. Can’t you feel how much I need you?”
You swallow, eyes glistening as you wiggle your nose. You place your hands on his chest and tremble, “okay…” is all you can say.
“Okay?” he echoes as his pushes his tongue against his teeth and rubs against you, “okay, pet,” he repeats and kisses you once more, “how long I’ve wanted you, I can hardly believe you’re mine.”
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#loki x reader#professor!loki#mcu#marvel#drabble#dark drabble#dark!drabble#ask drabble#forbidden lessons
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Forbidden Lessons VII
Forbidden Lessons | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Another Saturday drabble.
Warnings: age gap, abuse of power, unwanted touching, coercion. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.
Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!
He stands at the window. You’re tired and a bit hungry for your own neglect. The snow nearly whites out the evening sky beyond his silhouette. He sighs as he leans on the ledge then pushes himself away. He faces you as he slips off his blazer.
“We won’t be able to drive through this. Many of the other professors spoke of waiting out the storm, suppose we might do the same,” he drapes the jacket over the chair and passes it, “I should have to reschedule my lecture for the morning. And you…”
“I will email Professor Barnes,” you hook your fingers around each other nervously.
“Tell him it is the weather, yes?”
“Of course,” you assure him. He doesn’t need to say outright what he means; don’t mention my name.
You nod and take out your phone. It’s almost dead. You always let it go until the battery blinks red. You have no one who calls, no one who messages. He nears as you open your email.
“Allow me,” he takes the cell as you start a new message. You let him and watch his finger tap over the screen fleetly. His tone is formal as he explains your absence in first person. He hits send without consult and hands the phone back, “it will suffice. I believe this weather calls for tea… or at least some manner of keeping warm.”
You look at your phone and black out the screen. You place it down on the chest of drawers with the mirror mounted above it. You see your reflection and his arm as he cradles your chin.
“Wasn’t that fun today? It was quite a thrill, wasn’t it?” he smirks and your eyes flit back to his. You shy away as you always do. How they burn as if they would sear right through you.
“Um, I guess, yes,” you don’t know what to say. You can’t tell him how you rinsed your mouth when he left, gagging, spitting up stomach bile until you were weak. It’s only because it was your first time. Because you’re learning. “It was.”
He hums and tickles along your neck, “we have a lot of time to wile away, we could… try it again?”
You wince. You don’t want to disappoint him. After all, he’ll need to pay for another night in the room. He’s not asked you for any recompense. It wouldn’t do to be rude.
“Or we can try something else,” he offers, “why don’t you get comfortable. Put on your night clothes and I’ll put on the kettle?”
You nod and give a tight smile. He leans in to kiss you, his tongue slipping between your lips as he purrs. He parts reluctantly and you wait for him to go before turning away. You grab your nightgown, the none so attractive flannel with the long sleeves, and hide in the bathroom to change.
As you come out, his shirt is folded over his jacket, he wears his undershirt still, his shoes kicked off, as he stirs through the canister of tea. You shove your clothes away and scurry onto the bed. You bed your legs under the length of your night dress and stare at the far wall.
His shadow moves along the edge of your vision. You fold your hands over your knees and think. You couldn’t imagine this. Not a month ago, not a week ago. He’s your professor… but all you’ve done, you can’t take back now.
All you’ve done and have you tried to resist? You can’t even eke out a no. You must want it. You must like it with how your body reacts, how it feels to have him touch you or the way you shiver when he calls you ‘pet’.
He puts a cup of steaming tea on the square table beside you. You thank him as he goes back around to place his own on the other side of the bed. He groans as he undoes his belt, peeling off his trousers and tossing them with the rest of his clothes. He lowers himself onto the mattress in only his briefs and the thin ribbed undershirt.
He takes a careful sip and you do the same, blowing over it to keep from burning yourself. He returns his mug to the wood with a clink and exhales, rubbing his neck as he stretches it, reaching back to knead his shoulders.
“How I envy you,” he utters through gritted teeth, “when aches and pains did not needle at me without reason. What more did I do but stand and talk?”
He chuckles and you mirror him again. You take a deeper gulp. He drops his hands and leans back against the pillow, crushed between him and the low headboard. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back with a sigh.
“How is the tea?” he asks as the china scalds your palms.
“Good,” you answer, putting it half-empty on the table, “are you okay?”
He opens an eye and peeks over at you. He gives a crooked grin, “you are so sweet, you know that? To worry about me.”
You purse your lips, cheeks alight with his compliment, “I… don’t like to see others in pain.”
“Ah, others… or me?” he wonders.
“Both. You,” you correct yourself, “Professor, I… is there any way I can help?”
He considers you. His brow arches and he looks away, almost meek.
“Well, I’d hate to ask too much, darling,” he lilts.
“Um,” you sink your teeth into your lip as you think, “your neck hurts? I could… try to… um, massage it?”
“You would do that?” he seems genuinely surprised.
“Sure, I… you’d do that same, right?”
“Oh, yes, certainly I would,” he affirms, “if it isn’t trouble, thank you. And be gentle with these old bones.”
He moves first, sitting up and pulling his shirt off. He flips onto his stomach as he crosses his arms beneath his head, resting it on the pillow. You hesitate. You’ve never done this before. You are unacquainted with affection, physical or otherwise. Among everything else, it feels overly intimate.
You get up on your knees and near him, sitting on your heels as you examine his long back, lined with muscles, his shoulders broad and equally toned, pale skin speckled with freckles. You hover your hands over him, slowly letting them down to spread along his shoulders.
You curl your fingers and trace your thumb up his neck. He purrs, almost a snarl. Your breath catches in your chest.
“Am I hurting you?” you stop.
“Not even close,” he groans, “please, keep going.”
“Oh,” you poke your tongue between your cheek and knead his muscles, firm and knotted.
His voice drones as you cautiously work his flesh, slipping down between his shoulder blades and trailing around them. The tension slowly seeps from him but only worsens in you. His warmth flows through you, a heat that has you quivering, sweating, adding to the sins already written in your ledger.
“Promise, pet,” he turns his face towards you, “you will be repaid in kind…”
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#loki x reader#professor!loki#drabble#dark drabble#dark!drabble#ask drabble#mcu#marvel#forbidden lessons
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Forbidden Lessons VI
Forbidden Lessons | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
He’s back again.
Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, unwanted touching, coercion, blow job. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.
Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!
“We cannot behave as more than student and professor,” Professor Laufesyon’s warning lingers in your mind.
You sit adrift among the sea of chairs, filled by strangers; all sorts of scholars, pupils and otherwise, from all around the country. You feel as lost as you did the night before in that hotel room. Uncertain of what to do, or even why you’re there.
You wring your hands as you watch your professor in the brief lull of the conference hall. He climbs onto the stage, shaking the hand of the master of ceremony.
The professor is wearing a fine suit, dark blue with a subtle plaid woven into it, trousers perfectly cut to his long legs, jacket finely limning his figure as he undoes the single button and faces the podium. He is a stoic figure, one that draws the large audience to silence as he smooths the pages on the slanted wood top. Much unlike the man with needy hands and lurid words.
You sit and listen intently with the rest of the crowd. You’re in the second row, rapt upon the stage. It’s easier to be lost in the dry papers than to think of your own existence. The cloudy night laced with distant ecstasy, the confused morning in the shambles of your first hangover. You don’t ask, but wonder, how one glass had you so affected.
You chew your fingertips anxiously as Laufeyson’s rich voice is projected by the microphone, falling over the hush, hypnotising. You stare at him. You consider him for the first time as more than just your professor, trying to see him as the man he is. What do you know of men?
All you know is he is certainly not unattractive. That he is doting and wistful. That he is easily overcome by his emotions, as you’ve seen time and again. That refined figure is more than the daunting professor that made you cower upon your first day of classes. For some odd reason, he prefers you, he sees you differently than any one ever has.
His eyes meet yours as he recites his research, his lips curve in recognition and he drags his finger along the podium. A deliberate reminder of the night before, of his touch roving your body. You touch your chest, unthinking and overheated, and he lowers his eyes as his grin remains.
You lose track of his words. You glance around, feeling as if the whole place stares at you. No one notices his lapse, his lingering gaze. You are, as usual, unseen. By all but him. It feels special that he could see you. Someone like him was the only one who ever has.
Time passes between slivers of sense and your wandering thoughts of the night before and what lays ahead. Your fidgeting self-awareness and suspicion of those around you. Laufeyson finishes, thanks the audience, and descends. You watch him take his seat at the opposite end of the row. Covert as he wishes.
There is another presenter before the master of ceremony announces an intercession for refreshments. You rise with the rest of the bodies, buzzing and eager for coffee and muffins, and shuffle along into the next hall. You don’t bother with a cup or sneaking a treat, you’re too anxious to eat.
You feel a presence and a roughness touches your hand, pressing to your palm as he passes, squeezing you before carrying on to the long table of chatting academics. You look at Laufeyson as he peeks at you over his shoulder and winks, busying his hands with a carafe.
You unfold the paper, a map of the facility, a circle around the staircase to the west and a note about a restroom on the second floor.
You scrunch your lips and give another look to the strangers around you. Slowly, you walk between them, shoulders down as you hide away the sheet in your pocket. You follow the signs towards the stairs and let yourself through the heavy door. You shudder as you climb, recalling the instructions in slanted cursive; slender and long like the man who wrote it.
Down the hall, to the left, carry on past the utility closet, and another left. You enter the bathroom, unlike the stalls below it is meant for only one. There’s a dish of potpourri on the tank of the toilet, some air freshener on the sink. You expect there is a particular professor that frequents this facility.
You shut the door and pace the small space. Two steps one way, then back, around and around until you’re dizzy. The door opens and you pause, for a moment, expecting that someone else may catch you there. It’s him.
He locks the door without looking and sighs.
“Pet,” he greets, wasting no time as he removes his jacket and hangs it from the hook behind him, “I could hardly focus in front of all those people. I could only think of you–”
“Really?” you press your hands together, “you did… good.”
“Ah, well, I suppose habit guided me,” he says modestly, “forgive my impatience but we haven’t much time before we reconvene.”
He rests his hands on his belt and you blink. Your heart plummets like it does when he looks at you expectantly. You pull your sweaty hands apart and stare dumbly.
“Come on, pet, I can’t last like this,” he grips himself through the fabric of his trousers, his arousal obvious, “won’t you help me?”
You look him in the eye, searching, and step towards him, reaching for his belt.
“Darling,” he stops you, his hand on your chin, tracing your lower lip, “your mouth…”
You quiver as he pushes past your mouth and plants his thumb down on your tongue. He coos at you as he urges you to your knees gently. He slips his hand away and unbuttons his fly, pushing wide the opening and wiggling down his briefs.
“It isn’t very… difficult, open your mouth, pet,” he pulls himself above the elastic band, stroking as you obey.
You stare at his swollen tip, his hand pumping as he places it against your lip. He rolls along the O of your mouth before poking inside. You gulp in surprise and his other hand comes up behind your head. He hushes you calmingly as he eases in, little by little.
The salty flavour of his flesh spreads along your tongue and he prods at the back of your throat before pulling back. He glides back and forth, his hips keeping an even motion as his fingers curl against your scalp.
“Pet,” he drops his hand from his length and grasps your chin, rocking into you steadily as he grips your head, “you must relax…” he hits your throat again, pushing against the resistance as he tilts your head back, “that’s it.” His fingers crawl down and he rubs his thumb along the front of your neck, “you’re doing so good, pet.”
He slips down further and you gag, squeezing your eyes shut as tears prick. He stretches your throat around him, dipping down until you can’t breathe, until he’s buried in you. He holds himself there before he retreats and you gasp at air, clawing at his open belt.
“Oh, pet,” he growls as he fills your throat again, “you are so good to me.”
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#loki x reader#professor!loki#drabble#dark drabble#forbidden lessons#dark!drabble#ask drabble#mcu#marvel
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Forbidden Lessons IV
Forbidden Lessons | Part 2 | Part 3
Oops, I dropped something.
Warnings: age gap, abuse of power, unwanted touching, coercion, drinking. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.
Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!
The room is nice. Bigger than your dorm.
There’s a bathroom to the left and a wooden counter along the other wall, with a stove top and kettle. The mini-fridge has a wooden door that blends into the vintage aesthetic, making it almost indiscernible from the drawers.
The bed is decorated with an antique coverlet, ruffled at the edges, pillows fluffed, and canopy tied back against the posts. There’s a warmth to the space even as your veins flow with ice.
The realisation of how far you are from campus, that you don’t really know where you are, drapes over you in a frigid sheet of sweat. You hug yourself as you peer around, tiptoeing to the window to look out onto the autumnal evening. You feel the cold radiating off the wooden pane as the glass fogs along the corners.
You’re drawn from your pensive daze as the door opens with a creak. You turn to face Professor Laufeyson as he enters, a smirk curving his lips as he sees you. He shuts the door with a short kick and plops the bags down on the cushioned bench against the wall. His cheeks are rosy from the dropping temperature.
You twiddle your fingers as they poke out from your cuffs, your corduroy jacket undone over the thick woolen sweater.
“Why don’t you stay a while?” he jests as he removes his coat and hangs it from the swooped peg of the rack next to the door, “so, do you like the room?”
“Um, yes,” you answer smally as you shrug off your jacket and cross the carpet to hang it beside his, “it’s nice.”
“Much better than a dorm, I’m certain,” he doesn’t move, looming closer as his hand brushes along the small of your back, “are you hungry? The hostess mentioned a carvery, we can even have some brought to the room.”
“Not very,” you lie. Your stomach is acidic and empty, but you’re nauseous too.
The prospect of even one night here, alone with him, scalds you with guilt. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have let him do what he did in his office and you shouldn’t have done what you did in the car. He’s your professor and you’re his student. You could ruin his life.
“Um,” you step away from him and touch your sleeves to your cheeks as you chew your lip. He breathes as you pace the floor and turn back to him at the foot of the grand bed, “how old are you?”
His eyebrow crooks in surprise. You suppose it’s an unexpected question. You don’t know exactly why you asked it. It doesn’t make a difference, he’s old enough.
“Forty-three,” he answers coolly, “I hope that doesn’t… scare you away.”
Your chest tightens. You would’ve guessed thirties but you aren’t very good at guessing. Now that you look at him, you see the lines around his eyes, across his forehead, and in the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t exactly look old, only defined.
“I…” you cross your arms to keep from fidgeting, shifting your weight on your feet, “I’m only nineteen.”
He’s unfazed by that. He gives a soft smile and a gentle nod. He comes closer to you, takes your wrist and unfolds your arm from across your chest. He pulls you around with him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He turns you to stand between his knees and lifts you easily into his lap.
He balances you sideways against him, his hand running the length of your back before settling around your hip.
“It is a big difference, I know,” he says, “just another twist of fate against us. But I’ve never felt like this in all my years. Forty-three, what a long time to never have this… delight.”
You lower your chin and such in your bottom lip. You don’t know what to think, what to feel. It’s all a cluster you can’t sort out. That flutter in your chest is a mystery because you’ve never felt like this before either.
“It is all new to you, you are young, I understand,” he nudges your chin up with his long fingers, “but know it is new to me too. To fall headlong into someone else.”
You search his eyes, his vibrant green irises that seem to see and know everything. Your lips part, speechless. You could never put the racing of your mind into words. He leans in slowly and kisses you as he cradles your chin. He’s careful but deliberate. It takes your breath away.
“Does that feel so wrong?” he asks, a question he asks again and again.
You shake your head. His mouth curves once more, pleased with you. He moves you off his thigh and sits you in his place as he stands.
“You’re nervous, I am too, so let’s calm ourselves,” he caresses your cheek and rescinds his touch hesitantly.
He strides away and bends to open the fridge. He takes out a small bottle of wine and reads the label. He sets it down and finds a corkscrew from the drawer above, removing the stopper with a pop. You watch him, teetering on the edge of the bed, hypnotised by his easy movement.
He returns to you with two glasses in hand. He sits beside you and holds one out. You take it cautiously and stare at the golden bubble rising up the sides. He watches you over the crystal rim of his own.
“Cheers,” he tilts his glass towards you slightly.
You stare then gently clink yours against his, “cheers,” you echo.
You wait for him and drink as he does. You scrunch your nose and cough, quickly reeling back as you cover your mouth. It’s bitter and sour at the same time. It burns your throat and nostrils as you swallow.
He chuckles and rubs your back, “it gets sweeter as you go.”
You nod and try to smile as you rub your neck, “I never… I don’t drink.”
“One glass cannot hurt, darling, and I am here,” he assures as he sidles closer, slipping his arm around you, “I will take care of you.”
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#professor!loki#loki x reader#forbidden lessons#mcu#marvel#drabble#dark drabble#dark!drabble#ask drabble
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Forbidden Lessons III
Forbidden Lessons | Part 2
I can’t stop now!
Warnings: age gap, abuse of power, unwanted touching, handjob, coercion. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.
Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!
“Do you have everything, pet?” Professor Laufeyson asks as he takes your bag, his fingers brushing yours and sending a ripple through you.
“I think…” you rub your neck as he slips your bag next to his in the boot, “are you sure this is okay?”
“Darling? Whatever do you mean?” He turns and snaps the lid shut, “we are attending a conference. I recall as a student, I had a professor take me to my first one. It was a rather eventful day. I still speak with him on occasion.”
“Oh, okay,” you wring your hands, an action that catches his gaze.
“I know this one is far away but the committee does have a very poor consideration of practicality. Last year, it was much closer,” he nears you and stills your hands, untangling one and raising it, bowing his head to kiss your knuckles, “besides, these long trips are easier with good company.”
Electricity courses from his touch and makes you tremble. Those last weeks he’s been getting closer and closer. Small, lingering caresses and flirty strokes. Patient but insistent.
He assures you that all will be will, comparing your secret romance to that found in a novel. Fated, but complicated by the trickery of reality.
You’re still uncertain. About him. About yourself. Before him, a man never even looked in your direction.
“We should be off,” he squeezes your hand before releasing it reluctantly, “we should be just in time for check-in.”
You nod and he escorts you to the passenger side, opening the door in an outdated gesture. A gentleman displaced in time. You lower yourself into the suede and leather seat, the luxury vehicle another epic of the past. Ivory paint polished to shine with large round headlights.
He gets in the driver’s side as you look out the window. It doesn’t feel as right as he says. Meeting off campus, away from curious eyes.
You glance over as he buckles his seatbelt and you do the same. He slips the keys into the slot, his long fingers gripping the slender wheel as he shifts into gear.
“I booked a bed and breakfast, they tend to have better service. Quaint, private,” he explains as he sets off, “it will take us a bit longer to get to the conference in the morning but only by ten minutes.”
“Mhmm,” you hum thoughtfully.
When he asked you to go to the conference, it seemed perfectly innocent. It’s a professional event, lots of other students are going too. Mostly third and fourth years, so you thought maybe that meant something. A special privilege for a shining student…
He didn’t mention the hotel until yesterday. Didn’t even tell you where the conference is until then. Still, you said yes, like you always do to him. Even when you don’t, he acts as if you have.
You lean into your hand as you watch the exterior through the window. His office flashes in your mind, his hand between your legs. Not just that one time, but several since. The last, he had your sweater on the floor, groping your chest before he once more delved beneath your skirt. You gulp down the shame.
As your mind sinks into self-castigation, you feel a tickle along your hand. He lifts it from your lap and peek over to watch him guide it towards his own. You don’t pull away. As always, you’re weak to him. He keeps his other hand steady on the wheel, green eyes beaming through the windshield.
You gasp at his open pants. He puts your hand on his hard length, pushing your fingers closed around him firmly. You wince. You’ve never even seen a man’s… parts before. He shudders as he holds you snugly, his body tensing as his stomach clenches beneath the argyle.
“Uh, wha…” you breathe in confusion as he clings to you.
“I thought since we have a long road ahead, we might make it pass easier,” he growls as he slides your hand up, groaning before pushing it back down, “haven’t I made you happy, pet? Don’t you want to do the same?”
You bat your lashes as your hand moves beneath his. He puffs and quakes at the sensation, gripping the wheel tightly until it squeaks.
“Keep going, pet,” he purrs as he draws his hand away, clutching the steering wheel as he pushes himself back in the seat, locking his long arms.
You obey, like you always do. It’s easier when all you have to do is sit still and let him touch you. He blows out between his lips, low snarls as you stroke him, up and down.
“Faster, pet,” he urges, “that’s it. You feel what you do to me?”
You’re silent as you watch the motion of your hand. It winds the spring inside of you, the spiral of curiosity and confusion. The unfamiliarity of the act and how it makes you feel. The shadow of wrongness that cannot override the desire to appease him. To hear him tell you how good you are.
“I’ve been so patient, pet,” he exhales, “I could not… keep on. Not for how you haunt me. For how much I long to do… to you…” he struggles to speak through shallow pants, “that I know I must wait and be gentle but I have… needs–”
He bites down as his body goes rigid. He hisses through his teeth and you slow, afraid you’re hurting him. He grunts, “keep going. Almost… there.”
You do as he wishes and his lashes flutter as he fights to keep his eyes on the road. His thigh quakes and he grits out as suddenly warmth spurts down your hand, slickening the rise and fall as he spasm.
“Oh, slow, slow,” he coos as he hits his fist against the wheel, “slow down, pet… like that.” he soothes as you ease your rhythm, his cum cooling beneath your palm, “oh, what a mess you’ve made of me,” he smirks coyly and sends you a wink, “naughty girl.”
You slowly draw away your hand and stare at the glistening sheen across it. Naughty? You thought you were being good. You reach into your pocket and pull out a wrinkled kleenex, not quite adequate to the task.
“In the glove box,” Professor sighs as he touches himself daintily, “there are some tissues. Best clean this up quickly.”
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#professor!loki#loki x reader#drabble#dark drabble#ask drabble#dark!drabble#mcu#marvel#forbidden lessons
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Professor Loki or Professor Thor?
Forbidden Lessons
Warnings: age gap, abuse of power, unwanted touching. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.
Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!
His fingers tickle the back of your neck, setting you on edge, the blur around the notebook's edges coming into focus. You lift your head and look up, realising the lecture hall is empty.
It was supposed to be a quick question. You didn’t expect Professor Laufeyson to sit in the seat beside you, a little too low for his long legs, and to lean in as he looks over your notes.
He peers down, pointing along your loopy writing with the nib of your pen. You hardly recall him taking it from you as he writes comments in the margins.
“I can offer some revised notes. I do post my PowerPoints on the course site,” he advises, playing with the back of your collar, rubbing the fabric between his fingers, “or you can visit my office hours. I do try to be as hands-on with those struggling.”
“Struggling?” you bat your lashes at him in horror, “I thought…”
“You listen well, yes, and you ask many questions but your last paper,” he shakes his head and closes his eyes grimly, “I know you can do better.”
“Oh?” your lips round as his green eyes flick open and meet yours. He’s close, very closer as his touch wanders from your collar and he draws you against the arm of the chair, gripping your shoulder as his thumb caress the top of your sleeve.
“You’re a smart girl but there’s a lot of changes that come with college,” he says, “I notice how… you sit alone. You haven’t made many friends, have you?”
“Well, I…” you look down, embarrassed. His fingers send a shiver through you. Should he be that close? “I study a lot and, um, my roommates are nice.”
“Oh, yes, but your classmates? They hardly seem to notice you. What a pity. I find it very hard not to, you know?”
“To what?” you squeak.
“To notice you,” he breathes as he leans in.
You turn away, burning from the heat of his proximity. “Professor, thank you for your help but I…” you pause as his lips meet your cheek.
You gasp and stand, nearly stumbling as your hips hits the folding desk and pops it up. He catches your notebook as he rises too. He blocks your path as you grab your knitted bag and reach for the book in his hand.
“Pet, please, understand, I only want you to meet your true potential,” he holds it just out of your reach.
“You…” you touch your cheek and keep your eyes past him, on the door.
“I was carried away, I apologise, but you are… so beautiful and I see you are unappreciated for that, it strikes my heart,” he speaks gently and presents the notebook, “I will not keep you from going. I did not mean to frighten you. Take it, go off. I’m certain, as you mentioned, your roommates will be eager to have you back.”
You take the notebook and flip the cover over. You slide it into the bag slung from your shoulder and inhale. You can’t help a guilty wince. Your roommates are all too busy for you. Sometimes you’re certain they forget you even live there.
“Thank you, professor,” you cross your arms, “I’ll see you next week.”
“Of course, pet,” he uses that name again, “I put my number in your book and office hours. You’re more than welcome.”
He turns as you pass him, striding lithely with you to the door. You pause and face him again.
“I’m sorry,” you say, not certain why you’re apologising.
“No, please, I am,” he touches his chest, “I should know better. I can’t imagine you’d want your first kiss to be an old man like me.”
“First– I… how–?” you croak and cringe at your unwitting confession, “it is only… you’re my professor.”
“In another lifetime,” he nods with a frown, “I shall have to keep it as it has been. In here.” He taps his temple.
You blanch and your chest heaves in surprise. You're trembling in fear and shock. You should go but you feel like if you do, it would be an insult. To run off, just like that.
“I will have to keep you to those thoughts that keep me awake at night and those dreams that hound my sleep,” he declares, “and I will have to look elsewhere as I give my lectures, as hard as it should be.”
Your eyes sting, as if you could cry. How horrible you feel for him. That you never meant to inspire the feeling in him, yet never expected any to yearn for you so passionately. It is both startling and sweet.
But he is still your professor.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper and reach behind you for the door, “I didn’t mean to…”
As you turn, he grabs the handle above your hand. He keeps you from pulling it and traps you against the wood. He presses his body to yours and inhales your scent.
“I just want to remember how you feel,” he hugs you with his other arm. He wiggles his hips and you feel the odd prodding against you. You quiver as he lets you go, opening the door as he parts, “good night, pet.”
You quickly move to flee, stepping back into him before scurrying through the door. Your chest tamps as you hold your breath and your soles scuff loudly in the empty hall. You stop at the corner and look back at him.
He watches you with a smirk, his hand resting on his belt, a lewd suggestion as he slowly closes the door.
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#professor!loki#loki x reader#drabble#ask drabble#dark drabble#dark!drabble#mcu#marvel
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My version of Professor Loki! 🤗
I have this headcanon that he’s a mess of a professor, smokes a lot thanks to stress, constantly up at 3am grading papers, wonders how he got into teaching, genuinely cares about his students progress but doesn’t seem like it, absolutely adores it when a student succeeds, and of course a jokester/prankster aka a menace to staff and students
#loki#loki series#loki au#professor!loki#marvel#mcu#marvel fanart#loki fanart#fanart#sketches#digital art#my art#I’m now obsessed with this#I will now make it everyone’s problem
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