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smolvenger · 6 months ago
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The Baronet Seeks A Wife, Chapter One.
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A Crimson Peak Multi-Part Fanfiction.
Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader Arranged Marriage AU.
Summary: England in the 1890s. When your spirited sister, Charlotte, defies your family by running away from her arranged engagement to Sir Thomas Sharpe, you are the one who must keep your family from scandal and ruin...by taking her place as the baronet's bride.
Word Count: >7K words. You may want tea and scones as a repast as you read this.
Warnings: Angst, some hurt/comfort, and fluff at the end. I attempt to convey the period as accurately as I can bc if you don't like it or find it interesting why write it. Period accurate attitudes of gender and social class. Mentions and discussions of sex, but no smut (yet...let me just say...after Bridgerton season 3 episode four...I have *ideas* heheheheh). Brief mention of childbirth. The fear of domestic violence is mentioned, but not portrayed. Grammar and spelling mistakes. If I miss something and you see something that could be triggering that I didn't mention, then it is your responsibility to please please please tell me. I will take full accountability for how I portray marginalized groups and sensitive subject matter and make sure to better my writing and make sure affected parties are protected.
A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad
Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson @steasstuff @anukulee @kimi01985 @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @giona45-5 @goddessgirl43
London, 1898.
“I won’t marry him!” your sister cried.
You have seen this scene plenty of times. You could recount it like a play production you had seen too much. You were sitting in the parlor, trying to read a book and rest your feet. But your mother and your older sister, Lottie, were on each other’s last nerves.
‘Lottie, you have to!” your mother insisted.
You found you couldn’t focus on the words. You only sat there in stillness, watching in silence. A maid walked by the door, her eyes flicking over to the scene, but then she kept walking down the hallway.
Your mother pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed as if in pain. 
Your older sister, Charlotte, was curling her fists on her side. The red dress, the new one father ordered for her at the shop, only made her seem angrier. She was literally burning with the fire of fury.
Mama let out a huff. Then she glared at Charlotte, her arms akimbo.
“Listen to me. Right. Now.” your mother began.
You felt bad for your mother. There was a lot on her mind. To have both daughters out in society at one time. They agreed it wasn’t fair for one daughter to go about having fun when the other couldn’t. Charlotte was older, so she was more experienced in being out in society. She made her debut it seemed ages ago. You recalled your own debut. You had your turn to wear white and curtsy before the queen before she dismissed you for the next girl. You were already beaming with excitement. Ready to enter the glittering, grown-up world of the London social season. Prepared to dine and dance in pretty dresses every April until August.
But every year, it seemed the bags under Charlotte’s eyes increased. Now years had passed since then. And mam still had two daughters who were still out. And unmarried.
Charlotte dreaded going from your country home to London for the warmer months.She hated the constant balls, parties, meals, picnics. She at least liked riding her horse in Hyde Park but loathed she couldn’t go faster. She would sneak out to smoke cigars. Bugs and reptiles fascinated her more than gossip. She scribbled down notes. She turned prickly if any man asked for a dance. She spoke boldly and even swore. She enjoyed the horse races and polo games and sports, but the art of feminine flirting was beyond her.
But your parents had plenty of money and two daughters. But only so much money could support so many seasons. And as the eldest, the pressure was on Charlotte. There was the occasional brave soul who proposed marriage to her. Only to face the inevitable, flat rejection.
So Mama and Papa took matters into their own hands.
Mama met enough people who networked her to cross paths with a single baronet. They porposed a marriage between him and Charlotte, to which he agreed. Your sister was engaged after a mere three meetings with the fellow. Not that you had a chance to meet him either. So no rejection. No proposal. A ring on Lottie’s finger forcibly placed on her like a child force-fed turnips to her mouth.
“Lottie, do you know how much that dress costs? The very one on your back? Every season, your father and I make sure you and your sister have new gowns so you may be presentable in public. That is what they demand- that eligible ladies always dress in fresh new clothes. So any gentleman will not scoff at you wearing yesterday’s rag. You may not like it- but this is for your future. For your family’s future.  May I remind you- You are the eldest. You must make a good match not only for your sake- but your sister’s future. If you marry well-then she will be set up to succeed. There are plenty of decent men with more than enough money to make you comfortable here. Every year, they ask to dance with you. Every year, at least one proposes. And every year, you say no. ”
Charlotte huffed, folding her arms.
‘I didn’t want to marry them. Any of them. I wouldn’t make them happy and they wound’t make me happy at all.”
Your mother glared down.
“You have had more than enough chances to secure yourself forever. Do you want to live at the mercy of your father’s charity all of your days? If he cut you off this minute and threw you out of the house, you would have nowhere to go, and no way to survive. Lottie, do you realize how many seasons you have had? Do you realize how much we must pay more and more for you both to be presentable when you are out? Do you realize how much this is costing us and yourself?” she scolded.
She caught her breath. Charlotte was breathing hard, and you could see glimmers of tears in her eyes. Mama stepped closer.
“Charlotte…you’re no figure of pity. Not yet. You have had plenty of chances- they still call you the Wild Rose of London. Your face won over dukes, earls-so many girls would have loved to be in your shoes!” she said softly.
Mama was right. Charlotte was considered the beauty of the family. When she made her debut, heads turned to look at her. Everyone, you included, thought she would make a match easily. After all, your father was in charge of a great business that made a lot of money. You were now part of the upper crust. So a pretty face, a decent family reptutation and a sizable dowry with her bold, vivacious character would have won someone’s heart. And in a way they did. The first man who proposed to Charlotte you thought was going to be like shooting a sitting duck.
Even though “spinsterhood” did nothing to dampen  your sister’s face,you were all proven wrong. Very, very wrong. 
Lottie slouched as much as she could in her gown and frowned. A habit she never abandoned as a child.
“Your father had to take action. You will be a part of the esteemed Sharpe baronacy and he will reap the monetary benefits. He is a nice man, pleasant, charming, and he will take care of-”
“So am I nothing more than a thing you auction off at a bazaar? Not a person with a heart? With feelings?” Lottie combated.
“We were going to be driven at this rate to ill repute, and financial ruin all because you wouldn’t marry!” your mother argued.
“Then why not let me wear an old dress?” Lottie shot back. “Or have me not do a season! Let me remain a spinster and paddle my own canoe!” 
“Sir Sharpe will take care of you. He promised it!” Mama assured.
“Being stuffy old Lady Sharpe and wasting my life in balls and parties is going to drive me to insanity! An arranged marriage- mama, it’s practically medieval!” Lottie shouted.
Your mother folded her hands.
“Your father has set it in stone. There is no point in this conversation. You are going to marry Sir Thomas Sharpe, and that is final!”
Your sister jumped up. She stormed off, slamming the door shut childishly as she huffed off to her room.
Your mother turned to you. You sat in your own blue tea gown, not expecting company. For a night of no events in the London season was a special treat. All of the picnics, lunch parties, park trips, operas, theatre, and balls were fun- but back to back, it was exhausting. But hearing your mother and sister yell at each other was ten times worse than the exhaustion. 
You stood up.
“Am I….a bad mother?” she asked. You saw tears in her eyes too.
You put a hand on her shoulder, a fine, matronly gown of dark green brocade. You offered her a handkerchief. 
“I only think you are a desperate mother put into a difficult situation.”
“She won’t listen to me. Much less your father…she only listens to you anymore. I hate we must do this…and I hate myself,” she sniffled. 
You patted her shoulder.
“Mama, let me speak with her. Let me help patch things up. Make her happy,” you offered.
She nodded. You exited the library, walking up the stairs to Lottie’s bedroom. The odd servant paused in their dusting to curtsy at you. You wold give them a nod and a smile, before you continued. Walking past vases of daffodils and over velvet rugs, you found the door locked shut. Crying coming from inside.
You knocked on the door.
“Go away, papa!” she fussed.
“Lottie, it’s not papa, it’s me!” you assured her.
Your sister went over and opened the door, letting you in and shutting it after you entered. With it’s wine red wallpaper, the place seemed to be dark as the sun was dipping outside. Her desk empty of any papers and her hat set on top. Her colllections of newspapers piled on one chair near her parasol. The drawer where she hid her cigars was kept with a lock and a key she dared not tell even you.
“Lottie…I’m so sorry you have to do this, and how miserable it makes you…it sounds like a nightmare,” you admitted.
You could see tears streaming down her face.
“Do you remember when I was eleven and asked mama and papa for a pet snake? They know how much I love snakes- they’d give me little toy snakes. I wanted a real one. I’d call her Cleopatra for the irony of it. But they said no. Every year I asked and they kept saying no.would always say no. They try….but they can’t love me, or understand me. And I keep trying to please them…and I keep failing and now…they’re throwing…”
She sat on the bed and began to cry. And you hugged her.
“Here….here…” you said. “My poor girl, my poor Lottie!” you cooed. 
“I want to go places. Have adventures and jolly, capital times.  I want to run, and explore and see things! Not be stuffy old Lady Sharpe in some stupid house having babies until I’m killed from it!” she mourned.
She shoved aside her journal and laid down on her bed. Tears streaming her face.
“It’s what you deserve…Lottie. A life like that! But now,  we need to think of what we can do and not what we can’t do,” you suggested.
You paused, thinking for a second. You leaned closer as she turned away. A gentle hand on her side.
“Sir Sharpe…you’ve met him, haven’t you? What is he like?” you asked.
“He talks about his stupid inventions all day,” she muttered from her side. “And he won’t answer anything about what his dead sister was like or what was in that old mansion.”
There were only three things you knew about Sir Sharpe as of this morning. He was a baronet. He grew up in a mansion called Allerdale Hall. He lost an older sister. But that was it. Now thanks to Lottie, the sum rallied up to four.
You leaned closer, more mischief in your voice. You hushed to a whisper.
“What does he even look like? Perhaps he’s at least handsome! Maybe at least…on your wedding night…” 
Lottie turned over, wrinkling her nose. 
“I’m sorry, YN, but he’s ugly! He has a big forehead, and big ears, and a big old nose!” she cried. Her voice far too loud for the question you asked.
She grabbed her pillow and hugged it around her.
“Don’t get me started on my marital duties. I could retch at the thought of it. If Sir Sharpe even thinks of going to bed with me, I’ll box his big ears off!” she decalred.
Part of you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Even Lottie’s own pretty, pink mouth was curved up in a small smile at her own words.
“Practice on that pillow!” you dared.
She hit the pillow again and again.
“This I’ll give Sir Sharpe and -this! I’ll give Sir Sharpe!”
She reached over and got her parasol and gave it a few more good whacks. Feathers were starting to burst out from it and litter the floor.
“Heavens, at this rate you’d have killed him!” you commented. 
“He would have earned it!” she replied.
‘“Then you’ll be a criminal and I’d have to bail you out of prison!” you replied.
“Oh no! Then I guess we must be outlaws and run off and live like Robin Hood and the rest! Better than listening to Mrs. Mean drone on about governesses!”
Both of you burst into laughter. The Means lived up to their name and every reception they found a new group of people to complain about. You both heard it all and had to silently look at each other to promise to only laugh at them when it was done.
You both laughed, smilng bright. How you missed the easy days of your younger years. You could play about and get in and out of trouble. You and your sister knew where to strike to hurt each other, but couldn’t live without the other. You fought as intensely as you played. You did everything side by side. You took her hand and hugged her again, even though she was still sniffling.
Lottie sagged her shoulders. Her hold on the pillow loosening.
“But…I’m unhappy. I wake up every day with this and I’m miserable. Like I can’t get out.” she sighed.
“Think of this….” you reasoned. “I hear husbands are easier to manage and persuade then fathers! Once you have money and you’re not under their thumb, you can go about as you want and do what you want! Idon’t think Sir Sharpe would stop you….”
You paused. A horrified shiver ran through you.
“Not that I…know much about him. Do you think he….did he ever…ever…hurt you?” you asked.
She shook her head.
“No, he hasn’t been less than gentlemanly. And he wouldn’t hurt me in any way after we’re married, I’m sure.” she replied.
You both sat on the bed and held hands.
“Then don’t be afraid, Lottie…maybe marriage isn’t a prison, but your key to freedom! Once you’re a married woman, you can do whatever you want and Sir Sharpe won’t stop you. And if he does anything, tell me. And I’ll box his ears!” you replied.
Lottie’s tears were drying in trails down her cheeks. Yet she smiled in spite of herself. Then you hugged one last time.
“I should ring for some cakes and mint tea from Anne! That will cheer you up!” you said.
As you rang the bell for them. Anne, one of your maids, hurried up. She took the order and promptly left. She returned with a tray in only ten minutes. You both relaxed on chairs as the tray balanced on a mahogany table.
Turning, you saw Lottie write about in her journal.
“Oh, croissants! My favorites,” Lottie cooed. She picked up one and began to dig in.
“I’m just glad you have thing that make you happy…I just want you to be happy, Lottie,” you said.
The pastry returned to her plate.
“And…YN…”
Her mouth opened as if to speak. Then she stopped. She reached over and held your cheek. Studying you carefully, as if you were a piece of art. A work she could only admire in person once before she had to leave. Something she had to commit to memory. There was a sad smile on her face.
There was a sad smile on her face.
“I want you to be happy too…”
She kissed your forehead and you smiled. As she helped herself to a big slice of strawberry cake. Her eyes were tired, crinkly.
“I think Lady Charlotte Sharpe has a ring to it. Like the heroine of a book!” you said.
Charlotte turned to face the window. The sun melting down and the sky promising night.
“But this isn’t a book, this is reality…” she responded.
She looked at you and then at the ring on her finger. The engagement ring already commissioned. Costly and pretty, but useless and ominous on Lottie’s hand.
“I think you would have liked him...” she said.
“Sir Sharpe will be nice to have as a brother,” you replied.
She looked at you. But said nothing as she nibbled on her croissant. As the tray was partially emptied, you excused yourself. But Lottie caught your arm. You saw her lip quiver. She leaned closer, her voice quiet. And Lottie was not a person who liked to be quiet. 
“I’ll always remember that your words. That we must do what we can and not dwell on what we can’t. Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for the tea, too.”
By dinner time, she was quiet. She dressed nicely and ate modestly. Then went to bed without a word to you.  As you went back up to change for bed. How unlike her! Your sister was chattiest at night! But you but shrugged it off. She was probably just exhausted. London’s balls lasted from night until six in the morning and you would be lying if you said they didn’t take a toll on you too. And you would need some rest if there were to be callers, a garden party, and maybe a horse ride in the park  the next day.
❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁
When you awoke the next morning, the sunlight streamed like melten butter into your room. Outside, it was another lovely day in May. People were already tittering about the Ascot opening later this month.
Your maid helped you into your day outfit of a white lace skirt and a blue skirt with flowers patterned with silk. You only hoped Lottie had improved. Before breakfast, you would check.
You knocked on her door.
“Lottie! Good morning!”
No reply.
“The chef is making us bacon! It’s going to be delicious!”
No response. 
You beat your fists against the door.
Nothing. And she was a light sleeper.
“Lottie?” you called out louder.
You realized the door was unlocked and opened easily.
She was gone. Servants followed you inside. Her bed wasn’t made, there was no sign of her.
“Is she in the garden? Is she riding in Hyde park this early? ” you asked Anne. But the maid shook her head.
Then, to your shock, you saw there was a piece of paper on it. And a ring. Coming closer, you saw it was her engagement ring.
You felt the world pause as you read her handwriting.
“Hello everyone,
You need not fear, for I am not hurt or seduced by some scoundrel.
I cannot be Sir Sharpe’s wife.
I love all of you. But I cannot do this. This is not what I want for my life.
I shall be safe, do not worry.
But do not try to reach me for some time.
All of my love.
Charlotte Y/L/N.”
Breath knocked out of you. You stood frozen. You hardly heard your parents rushing in. You didn’t feel your father snatching the letter from your hands. Looking down, they were still in the air and shaking.
Your mother began to sob.
All of your plans were canceled. A private detective was hired and Charlotte’s lady’s maid was fired for permitting this. Though the sobbing maid insisted she didn’t know where Charlotte went. All day long, people scurried about in a panic. 
You felt tears well up in your own eyes. Alone in your room, it was your turn to burst into crying.  It was already as if your dear sister was already dead.
You recalled the letter said she was unharmed. She wasn’t about to be left pregnant with some scoundrel’s bastard. She hadn’t…taken her own life and for her to return only as a corpse. As far as you knew, no news meant she was alive and safe. That would have destroyed you. Taking hope in that, you went back to put on a brave face to your family.
There was the odd caller in the afternoon. But their noses were upturned. Knowing they would report anything and everything. The slight smiles on their faces as they looked about made you want to scream.
Why didn’t Charlotte think about this? The next day, your grief boiled to a silent rage. By running off and vanishing, it meant there was a scandal. And now society would all turn their faces away from you. They would frown and whisper and gossip. The unvirtuous daughter who ran off. And no one would want to go to your parties or dinners. No one would want to see you or associate with you. And no man would ever want to marry you, knowing you were the sister of the runaway spinster of a disgraced family.
That last part pained you. Not that you knew from Charlotte there was shame in being a spinster. But…you hoped to fall in love. Not just to marry a man of stability, to meet a wonderful, nice man who made your heart patter fast. To be kissed and receive valentines and dance and have him drop to his knees, begging for you. Just like in the fictional books you loved. 
But the days dragged by. The detective returned after a week and shook his head. And the hope for anything good in your future seemed more and more like a fiction itself.
❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁
You paced about in the gardens one afternoon. It was better to do something with your anxious energy. Two weeks and no sign where Lottie vanished. You sat by, hoping the coolness of the breeze drifting through flowers would calm you. But not even the loveliness of an English June could distract you.
Anne stepped forward and curtsied.
“Pardon me, Miss. But your father wants to have a word with you in private,” she announced.
She led you up, taking you to Papa’s study. It was a room in dark green, his favorite color. A few books lined up the walls and his desk was placed behind the window. Your father was staring outside when he turned around as you were brought in.
“Ah, sit down, my dear,” he requested.
You obeyed. Sitting on the wooden chair before his desk. Your father brought out a decanter of brandy and poured himself some in a little glass. You noticed it was a generous amount. Not that you would blame him.
He poured himself a second glass and offered it to you.
“I have some news with you, Y/N…” he began.
“Have they found her?” you asked with hope.
“No. And that is exactly why I have to tell you this…”
If there was no update, then what could it be? You wondered. You took the cup and held it in your hands. A little hesitant to drink it yet since it was still so bright in the day.  It didn’t feel right to drink such a spirit so early to you. Something was brewing- you just had to let him say it. 
“The engagement between your sister and Sir Sharpe it was…it is still and shall be beneficial. To us and to the Baronet. We must be respected by all sorts of society through connection to the baronacy. He needed the money- his own little toys wouldn’t be enough to sustain a gentleman’s life. And with Charlotte’s disappearance- you understand why we don’t have as many visitors as we do?”
“It’s a scandal, papa, I know.” you replied.
“But…we must return to society. We cannot show up defeated. We cannot let them beat us. We cannot become a laughingstock or a figure of pity.”
Where was he going with this? You held your tongue and folded your hands. The drink carefully balanced over your lap. He was only repeating everything you already knew.
“There is one way out that solves all our problems. Especially if at this point, Charlotte isn’t to be found…”
“We can’t give up on finding her, on making sure she is safe!” you insisted.
“We have more immediate matters..” he continued.
You raised the glass to your lips, taking only a sip. It burned down your throat onto your churning stomach. Your father looked directly into your eyes.
“ I have one daughter left who is out. But YN, I don’t think there are many gentleman who will want to associate with a ruined family. No gentleman will consider you marriage…But…”
“But?” you prompted.
“But there is one gentleman who doesn’t think so…” he continued.
“Who?” you asked. You put both hands over your cup.
Papa looked directly into your eyes.
“Sir Sharpe.”
Your throat tightened. Part of your vision went dizzy. You began to piece together where this was leading. Nausea gripped your insides as your hold on the glass turned into a grip.
“He knows he needs our money and to be back into society. We still need the respect of his title…and we have a daughter left who must be taken care of…”
You found yourself hyperventilating. Words choked out of you.
“Am I…am I…”
“YN, you are going to marry Sir Sharpe in your sister’s place this coming month.” he announced flatly.
A sound came out of you. You put a hand over your mouth. You now knew what Lottie felt. Your whole body went tight. You had to catch your breath. How glad you were to be sitting, for your legs were already shaking bad and your vision was spinning. You looked down at the floor, trying to pull yourself together. Your father kept talking.
“Now, I know this isn’t pleasant. Especially for a romantic such as yourself. I know you have yet to be formally introduced to him. But, Y/N, my dear- we have to be practical about these matters. There is no respectable solution to this problem at this point, if Charlotte is to not return.”
He was right. As twisted as this was, was there another option? 
Who would want to associate with a family who couldn’t keep an eye on their eldest? Who would want to invite a family who let their daughter run away to their breakfast party? Who would want to court the sister of the woman who ran off from her own marriage? Who would want to marry the daughter of disgraced family? 
The more you thought about it, the more you realized there were few options. You were now too socially stained to marry anyone. Your days would be spent alone. Sitting in your house as others lived their lives happy and free, laughing at you behind closed doors.
Your family had no other options out. 
A marriage to a man who belonged to a knighted family would earn you respect. It would be telling society that at least one man from a respectable house saw worth in you. You would still go to events not as a figure of pity and ridicule, but as one of them- even ranking above them.
You didn’t want to be a figure of ridicule. Someone who everyone would smugly turn. Whispering to each other “how glad I am that I’m not her!”
You had to marry. And marry well.
You would never be proposed to at this point. There would be no courtship. No dances. No poetry. No marriage proposals. No valentines. No love letters. No Passion. No balls. No laughter.
But there was never going to be a proposal like this.
No future. No safety. Nothing if you denied your father or refused him or rebelled as Lottie did.
You would just be tied and tethered to a ruined family all of your days. But becoming Lady Sharpe would free you from that. You could start anew. Spring again like a wild tiger breaking out of its cage to bear her claws.
And this was your only chance.
“Yes, papa. It will be an honor.” you replied. You would do your duty, as all daughters must.
Father walked out from behind, abandoning his drink. He put a hand on your shoulder and then pulled you for a hug.
“There’s my brave girl,” he said.
He released the hug.
“Alright, Sir Sharpe is going to visit at dinner tomorrow. And my associates at work will be there too, to celebrate. That way, you will have a formal introdution and you won’t be walking down the aisle to a complete stranger.”
You felt your fists grab your skirt. With your free hand, you grabbed your cup of brandy and downed it in one gulp. The burning ran through your body, and you prayed it would calm your racing mind.
“Do I need to wear my nicest dress?” you asked. You at least didn’t want Sir Sharpe to think he was settling from the society beauty. Downgraded from the Wild Rose to her frump sister.
“Considering he has already said yes to this arrangement, I doubt wearing your ugliest dress will do anything to about the matter,” replied your father.
❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁
Anne dressed you in a cream dinner dress of country silk and velvet. Your sleeves puffed like clouds. there was lace as a “belt” around your waist. The bottom showed an underskirt that was a color between light brown and pink. Anne had hair like yours, and knew how to style it as you liked. Your dress almost white in the light. Already you were going to meet Thomas looking like a bride.
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed seven o clock. You thought you would sweat through your dress. Part of you was tempted to lock the door and not step a foot out the whole night. But you knew you could not delay the meeting anymore. At this rate, you would just meet him on your wedding day. You just had to get it over with.
Besides, you were going to spend the rest of your life with him until only death or divorce did you part. You were just holding back the inevitable. 
“You look beautiful, miss,” she gushed as she looked at you.
“I wish I was as pretty as Lottie, sometimes. Or as brave as her…” you lamented quietly.
“Don’t compare yourself to her, miss. You know she has her own sufferings. And it will only make you more unhappy.” Anne advised, giving you a pearl necklace. She attached it to you from behind. 
 Both of you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Anne leaned in closer with an encouraging smile. “Just think of all this like armor to a battle, Miss Y/N. You can’t give up the fight, yet.”
I can be brave, like Lottie. I can fight, like she can. You thought. How could you be as stupid as to forget your own advice to her not long ago? You would do your best to find the way to make it a good situation. Manipulate your position and standing to your favor, even. For that was what women always did. For being the “weaker sex”, they always found a way through to survive. So what made you think you would just cry and pity yourself all of your days?
You reminded yourself of this. Still you felt heart racing hard as if the gallows was what awaited you next month and not the altar. Holding your head high, like a queen in her palace, you walked out of your room and downstairs.
A few women had shown up in the foyer. They eyed you greedily but you would not give them a figure to be pitied. You kept a stoic face as they offered a few tepid congratulations. But you felt so buzzed with anxiety, you only half heard.
“We’re so happy you found a husband,” said one.
Husband- husband! A husband! A fiancee! How was it that it happened already? And with no romantic proposal in a moonlit garden away from a ball. Just in an office that smelled of whiskey with your father relaying that you were now engaged. And your husband- no, you weren’t married yet, no need to panic now. Though you saw no men around, you knew that your fiancee was under this roof. 
You didn’t feel ready. You felt like you were just an adolescent playing dress up and not a grown adult. 
“Ah! There you are, YN!” your father greeted as he walked over, dressed in his evening tuxedo. He offered his arm.
“He’s in the library, sharing a drink with the other men. I think it’s time I introduce you both,” he announced.
Swallowing, you took his arm. The one thing keeping you afloat in the ocean of turmoil raging inside you.
Papa walked you over to the library. Your heart picked up as if you were running. In just a few short seconds, you would see the man you were bound to for the rest of your life. Your mind was itself running at a hundred miles a second and you felt yourself shaking like a leaf.
Father turned to the door and your fears screamed inside of you.
You dreaded what your sister said. Her voice ringing in your ears bemoaning Thomas’s apparent ugliness.
“He has a big forehead and big ears and a big old nose!”
He was ugly. You had to settle for that. But what made you were frightened was that perhaps he was a bad person. Perhaps he would hurt you, betray you, break you even.
Wait…didn’t Lottie say herself he wouldn’t treat her in that way? But…you weren’t Lottie! He could act completely differently…
No…you were forming an entire judgement on someone you hadn’t even met!
But, even if he wasn’t handsome…perhaps he would be a nice man. Men didn’t have to be handsome to be good. They could be kind, respectful, patient, gentle, genuinely kind husbands.
So which one was he? A kind, pure soul? Or an irredeemale monster?
Both? In between? Neither? There was only one way to find out. And the answer was standing with the other men beyond that wall.
You took in a deep breath, your father opened the door.
The dark green, musty library already smelled of cigars. Lottie would have loved it. There was a bit of laughter, as their smoke floated to the air. Cups of whiskey was passed and there was talk of this and that issue in Parliment. So many men in black suits like a horde clamored around, as if each one was copied from the other.
Your father cleared his throat.
“Gentlemen, may I introduce to you my daughter, Miss Y/L/N.”
Once, it was Lottie who was “Miss Y/L/N” and you just went by Miss and your first name after. But now that she was gone, you were promoted up. You were Miss Y/L/N and the family’s fortune and future were already on you like a yoke you had to drag across the field.
“It appears that for one of you, you are about to be a very lucky man next month…” your father continued.
One by ones, heads turned to see you. Some in curiosity. Some in boredom. Some in hunger seeing your neckline. You were already making guesses as to who your fiancee was with each passing face. Already one man had a curled mustache. Another had grey hair with busy sideburns. Another round spectacles and short brown hair with a mousy face. Most of them were wrinkled, lined with grey, with a gruffness to their demenaer.
“Sir Sharpe,” your father announced, turning his head.
Your eyes followed at once. That is him- you thought. That  is him! That is him, that is him, thatishimthatishimthatishim-
An old man patted a hand on the shoulder of another. The younger had hair had longer, dark curls He was so deep in conversation with someone that he almost forgot. The grandfather nudged him. The younger figure paused.
“Thomas! I believe your lady is here.”
Then he turned around. 
Thomas Sharpe was the handsomest man you had ever seen. 
The breath you had was knocked out again as you took him in. What on earth was Lottie thinking? Looking at him, you began to question her taste and strength of vision.
Thomas was a tall man with a hair full of raven curls. Slender, but not thin for he had a broad chest. Soft blue eyes that only contrasted with his dark hair and a face the color of porcelain. You now understood the fairy tale of Snow White and why she was the fairest in all the land. For the male equivalent was here before you. He had high cheekbones and large hands. He looked like the hero of a Bronte novel, but one if the author confirmed his handsomeness rather than his ugliness. 
He looked into your eyes and he smiled at you. Butterflies fluttered around your stomach and you could feel your eyes widening.
Your father gestured at him and he walked over.
“Sir Sharpe, this is my daughter.Your fiancee.” your father announced.
“Miss, I am glad to finally be acquainted with you. You look beautiful, tonight,” Sir Sharpe greeted. 
He raised your hand to his lips and looked right into your eyes as kissed your hand. A gasp could not even escape your throat. Something was stirring beneath you when his lips touched your gloved hand. You felt a sensation you dared not name in the most private part of you. 
Finally, steeling yourself back to the earth, you remembered basic etiquette.
“Thank you, Sir Sharpe. I am glad to make your acquaintance as well,” you replied with a curtsy.
Sir Sharpe sat across from you at dinner. You hardly said a word unless someone asked you something. 
You couldn’t believe this. You couldn’t believe him. You somehow found your appetite again and ate. But you felt self conscious with each bite. Thomas was watching you- what was he seeing? Would he judge you? You moved even more carefully and properly as you could.
 Every time your eyes met,  Every time he looked at you, a heat rushed through your whole body and your eyes would return demurely back to your plate or the napkin on your lap. When he smiled at you, you felt as if you could die. You had to remember your feet was touching the ground as you wiggled your toes in your pointed shoes.. 
He spoke poliely when asked to, but mainly listened. There was polite talk about the weather or the Ascot opening race. Thomas would ask you about what you thought and you found your replies were timid. You didn’t want to make a wrong move, you didn’t want him to hate you, you didn’t want-
Then your father stood up, raising a glass.
“Now, everyone,” he declared. “Let us have a toast. To Sir Sharpe, the delightful Baronet who I have the honor to call my son in law not long from now. And to the marriage of my beloved, dutiful daughter-”
You found yourself looking down. Dutiful, dutiful. This was why you were here. Lottie was not dutiful and broke everything. But now here you were to fix it all. For everyone’s sakes, including yours. It would have be you thrown to face the unknown of marriage to this unknown aristocrat. Yes, he was handsome. But he was still a stranger.
“Cheers!” toasted your father.
Everyone replied with cheers as they clinked glasses. Thomas gave you another smile and clinked yours. You felt yourself become timid. His looks, his smiles, and you were acting no better than an loony adolescent.
Thomas delayed going to after-dinner sips of brandy with the other men. He remained in the parlor with the women sipping on coffee and went to you. He led you over to a corner away from nosy mamas. He spoke lowly, for you to hear.
“How are you, Miss Y/L/N?” he asked.
“If I must be entirely honest, I am afraid,” you confessed.
His eyes softened at you. They were the color of a spring sky. You had never seen eyes as blue as his.
“YN, I know this is sudden. And I’m shocked as you are. But…”
He offered his hand and you took it. Your glove over his skin. Then he placed his other over yours, and already you found yourself chilled comparing his large hand to your own. To feeling that one bit of touch. For now you were almost married, and to touch was permitted.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me…I will try to make you happy, with everything I can.” he promised.
“Nothing will happen to me. You won’t hurt me. And you won’t let anyone hurt me, will you?” you asked.
A shadow of sadness passed over his face.
“No. I won’t.”
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lulubelle814 · 5 months ago
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A Marriage of Convenience - Part 2
Part 3
A Marriage of Convenience Masterlist
Main Masterlist
The first test came at an abruptly arranged family dinner. “You would marry in haste? To this secretary? This must be one of your schemes to secure your place as my successor, and I will not stand for it! 
Loki sighed deeply. “I am aware of how this must seem.” His fingers entangled with Eva's on the table. “I assure you. It is not. This is the result of your meddling, your attempt to spy on me. We've grown close over these past few months. I know it seems quick, but we had no desire to wait. Even you can admit that love is not always patient.”
His father scoffed at his words as he watched his son kiss the hand of his new bride. “She is my better half, and I needed to make her mine before she would realize how much better she could do.” 
Frigga laughed a little.  She knew her adopted son had little patience for much of anything, but she could sense there was something not quite right; however, she said nothing, opting to see how this would play out, believing Loki would come to realize he’d met his match.  Yes, Eva was a quiet girl, but Frigga saw a strength deep inside her.  It just needed to be let out, and Loki was the perfect man to do so.
“I wish we could have been at the wedding, but Loki is not known for his patience.  Please, Eva dear, tell me about it?”
Thankfully Eva and Loki had spoken about it, but not in great detail and was both surprised and relieved when Eva answered but didn’t quite stick to the agreed upon story.  “We never said anything at the office.  We didn’t want to bring attention to ourselves, stir up rumors and such.  So we kept it a secret.  He didn’t care for me at first, when Odin first assigned me to Loki, but over time, Loki and I became close.  We’d started dating before we even realized we were doing it, only hanging out as friends at first.  I can’t speak for Loki, but I fell hard and fast.  It was like the missing part of me had finally been found.  A couple of weeks ago, we were walking about on an extended lunch and ended up in front of the courthouse.  Next thing we knew, we signed papers and came out as husband and wife.  I couldn’t be any happier, and I have Odin to thank for it.”
Loki had to keep from choking on his food when she thanked Odin.  That was not something he’d thought of putting in their story, but it was a nice touch.  Reaching over, his hand found hers, fingers intertwining.  “It was like magic.”
Odin turned a few different shades of red as Eva spoke, but when she thanked him for the two getting together, he lost his shit, standing up and storming out.  There was nothing he could do because he was the one pushing Loki to find a wife, and Loki took great pride in this as his father had always given him a hard time.  He’d have to remember to get his fake wife a thank you gift.  
“Don’t mind him.  Business has been crazy lately, and it’s left him quite stressed.  Eva, I don’t see a ring on your finger.  Loki, you have to get that fixed very soon.”  
“I agree, mother.  It was very spur of the moment, and I’d planned on taking my dear Eva to Harry Winston this weekend so she can select the ring she deserves.”  Eva nearly spat out her food.  She’d heard of Harry Winston but didn’t dare think she could ever even afford to step in the store, much less get an engagement ring from there.  She could practically buy a car for what Loki would spend on a ring there!
“I think that is the best place to take her.  You’ll have to let me know what you select.”  The three of them concluded their dinner a few moments later.
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Once in the car and on the way back to Loki’s place, he gave a startling laugh.  “What’s so funny?”  Eva was confused, but Loki continued to laugh.  “I have to thank you, darling girl.  I’ve never seen Odin so angry!  You played your part very well, and I thank you for it.”  He lifted her hand up and kissed her knuckles as he continued to drive, leaving her a bit mystified.  Why would someone want to upset their father that much?
“Loki, why in the world are we going to Harry Winston for rings?  They’re absurdly expensive!”
All he did was smile when responding.  “Because, dear Eva, you deserve the best and should also look the part.  This is part of what we agreed upon.”
“I don’t need some giant, gaudy ring on my finger!”  He patted her thigh.  “Relax, Eva.  When the contract is over, you can keep the ring or sell it.  It’s up to you.”
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There was no arguing with him, and that’s how it remained when he practically dragged her to the Harry Winston store that weekend.  There was one he tried to get her to agree on, but she was adamant it was both too much, and too gaudy.
She looked around, trying to find something they could perhaps agree on until she saw one particular ring.
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“Madam has an excellent eye.  This is part of our bridal couture collection.  This particular one,” he spoke as he pulled out the ring, “has a 5 carat center diamond with 36 pear and round shaped diamonds surrounding it.”
“No, no.  I was just looking.  That’s much too nice for me,” she tried to protest.  The gentleman behind the counter carefully removed the ring from it’s soft pillow and gestured for her to try it on.  “Really, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”  That man was going to be the death of her.  “That ring is perfect for you.”  Loki took the ring from the salesman in one hand and picked up her left hand with his free one, sliding the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.  “It’s like it was made for you.”  The gentleman behind the counter wholeheartedly agreed.  “It’s a perfect fit.” 
She couldn’t find it in her to disagree with him.  This ring was like something out of a cheesy rom com where the handsome millionaire fell in love with the dog walker.  ‘Holy shit!  That makes me the dog walker!’ She kept that thought to herself.
Before Eva knew it, they were walking out of the store, that ring remaining on her hand while Loki selected a simple platinum band.  “Why do you get the simple ring, and I get this giant one?”
Loki shrugged.  “I’m not much of a jewelry guy, but I couldn’t not wear anything.  And that ring is perfect for this charade.”
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When they arrived into the office Monday morning with a ring on her finger that she swore could be seen from space, the news of their marriage spread like wildfire and ended with the ladies of the office planning a post wedding engagement party, wanting to hear all the details and celebrate her ability to ring in the notoriously emotionally stunted, intransigent man who didn’t believe in marriage.
Little did she know that Loki was receiving similar treatment from the gentlemen in the office; however, he politely told them to mind their own business and fuck off.  Eva wished she could do that.
Dividers by @jiyascepter
Taglist: @vbecker10 @eleniblue
Taglist is open!
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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 11 months ago
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Last Updated: 2024-03-05
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Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Sir Thomas Sharpe stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
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✑ Wedded│Prt. II│Prt. III by yespolkadotkitty • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •
Summary: You and Thomas spend your wedding night exploring each other in every way possible.
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✑ Child Named Sharpe, the by smolvenger • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
Summary: "You and Thomas Sharpe welcome your first baby and his second, as Thomas himself faces his own demons regarding his past."
✑ Corsets and Courtship by babybluebex • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 •
Summary: "Your father's business partner comes to your home in hopes of discussing the future, and you both get more than you bargained for."
✑ Fill You by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary:  "Now that you and Thomas have married, he is determined to have you with child come hell or high water."
✑ It's Something Special by lady-rose-moon • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Even though you had been married to the Baronet for three months now, you hadn't been touched by him. Until today..."
✑ My Sweet Baronet by lady-rose-moon • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Being married to Sir Thomas Sharpe had some... inconvenient setbacks but you are sure to worth through them with your husband."
✑ Ocean Eyes by andsheloved • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "When your own mind seems shattered, you're reminded of who will always be there to pick up the pieces."
✑ Please Forgive Me by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "After nearly being killed by Lucille and discovering Thomas'... role in the whole affair, the two of you [move] to Paris [for] a fresh start... unsure if you [can] forgive [him]..., you agree to attend the Paris Exposition with Thomas [to begin] moving forward."
✑ Secret Affair by sserpente • 〔E᜶F〕 •
Summary: "Imagine [Sir Thomas Sharpe falling in love with you, a maid]. He invites you to live at Allerdale Hall, to serve him and his sister Lucille... All you have to do is keep the affair a secret from her."
✑ To Escape by lady-rose-moon • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "After [discovering] the dark truth about Allerdale Hall, you confront Thomas. [Over] time, you [and your husband plan your escape]."
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✑ A Definite Answer by laufeyamp • 〔F〕 •
✑ A Favour by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔F〕 •
✑ Are You Sure? by tomhiddleston-is-mischief • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ Buried by colorsunimaginable • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Desperate by lady-rose-moon • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Family by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ His Happiness by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Indulge Me by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 •
✑ Kiss Me by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Memories by tomhiddleston-is-mischief • 〔F᜶A〕 •
✑ No. by ladyfluff • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ Not Stopoing by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Reading While He Works by foxgloveprincess • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Reading with Sir Sharpe by wanna-rock-n-roll-in80s • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Straight Through the Heart by the--blackdahlia • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Sweet Tooth by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 •
✑ Trapped by ladyfluff • 〔A〕 •
✑ Touch Starved by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Within the Strongbox of My Heart by frostbitten-written • 〔A〕 • ♡ •
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See Also: Navigation || Thomas Sharpe Master Index
Authors: @andsheloved || @babybluebex || @colorsunimaginable || @foxgloveprincess || @frostbitten-written || @just-the-hiddles || @lady-rose-moon || @ladyfluff || @laufeyamp || @smolvenger || @sserpente || @the--blackdahlia || @tomhiddleston-is-mischief || @wanna-rock-n-roll-in80s || @yespolkadotkitty ||
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five-miles-over · 2 years ago
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Little Darling
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Pairing: Loki x Reader
Summary: Living with the God of Mischief in London comes with finding many surprises, and one of those surprises happens to be a four-year-old named Tom Hiddleston.
Word Count: 4,092
Warnings: a few swearing instances, established roommate relationship, but mostly fluff
No one had ever said that living with the God of Mischief would be easy, let alone boring. Sometimes, you'd come home to your shared two-bedroom flat in London and find the entire living room filled with stray cats, one of whom wore a name tag that said 'Hel'. One time, you woke up to hear neighing in the bedroom only to hear your Asgardian flatmate staunchly deny the existence of a horse within the premises. There was also the time when you found your Tupperware lids changed from red to green; that was one of the most tame incidents since you started living with Loki. Then there was the time when you found Loki sitting inside the kitchen shoveling spoonfuls of strawberry cheesecake Ben and Jerry's into his mouth while the radio played Elton John's version of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight". The morning after that, you found the flat perfectly immaculate - the floors sparkling clean, the sink clear of all dirty dishes, the carpet free of coffee stains, and a bouquet of freshly-cut flowers on the kitchen table. You swore he used some of his powers to do the job, but still thanked your flatmate while he smirked like he held the world in the palm of his hand. 
And in today's case, you woke up to find the strawberry jam completely empty after you had just bought a new jar two days ago. If it hadn't been for your roommate giving you the silent treatment until you agreed, you wouldn't bothered to set foot inside a Waitrose on a Thursday evening. It had already been a long day, too demanding. All you wanted to do was come home, eat some ice cream before Loki can finish it all, and then binge-watch one of your favorite shows. 
You placed your bags of groceries in front of your apartment, reaching for your keys. When you opened the door, the flat was completely silent even though the lights were on. "Loki?" You called his name a few more times, locking the door behind you. Maybe he was out with his brother, or indulging in some mischief that may or may not end with him being punished by the local magistrate or worse, Asgardian justice. With a sigh, you wandered towards a new book cast on the coffee table.
'Norse Mythology' by Neil Gaiman…what could Loki possibly be doing with this book? Fact-checking himself?You wouldn't have given it a second thought, but there was a black leather wallet next to the book. It couldn't have been Loki's because well, Loki's wallet would've been enchanted with some spell that caused it to self-destruct whenever you or anyone other than Loki himself picked it up. You knew it was wrong to snoop, but assuming that this was a stolen wallet, you figured that you might as well open it anyways. If you knew whom it belonged to, you could call them and return it.
Inside the wallet were a few debit and credit cards, a twenty-pound note, something small related to UNICEF, a supermarket membership, and…a business card with the telephone number of a London talent agency. You raised your eyebrow only to drop your jaw when a small photograph came between your fingers. It was a photograph of a familiar man with sky blue eyes, defined cheekbones, and short curls that were a mixture of ginger and Golden Retriever blond. He was sitting next to an elderly woman with white hair and a genuine smile - his mother perhaps? Never mind that, Loki really messed up this time.
You slammed the wallet onto the table and anxiously looked around the rest of the living room. The cushions were ripped into shreds, the sofa covered in feathers and cotton pieces. In the center of the carpet, there were strands of what could only be pet hair and a small pair of grey boots that Loki would never be caught dead wearing. "Loki? What the fu-"
"Mister Loki's not here!" The voice of a little boy could be heard from the kitchen.
You turned your head almost immediately. There's a child inside the house? Did Loki have a son you didn't know about or something? Is that child even Loki's? Tightly gripping the bags from Waitrose in one hand, you made your way into the kitchen.
At the center of the small, round dining table sat a small boy with blonde tufts of hair parted in the middle, almost giving a small curtain-like effect on his forehead. He wore a navy blue jumper and pinstripe pants, swinging his legs underneath the table. Lost in his own little world, the little boy played with a stuffed brown dog. 
"Hello…" You greeted the child and slowly opened the refrigerator door. 
He looked up. "Hello!" 
The first of the groceries that needed to be put away was the ice cream. Along with the jam that Loki asked for, you bought two pints of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, some French cheese, a loaf of bread, and a stash of Cadbury bars in various flavors. 
"Who're you, miss?" The boy chirped, still holding the stuffed dog.
You told him your name while putting the rest of the groceries in their proper place. "I live here." As proof, you reached into your pocket and showed him your key. "What's your name?"
"I'm Tom," he brightly introduced himself.
"It's very nice to meet you, Tom." You pointed to toy in his hands. "And who is that? Is that your little doggie?"
"Yeah, his name is Bobby!" Tom places the stuffed animal on the table. "You can pet him." 
"Does he like to be petted?" Sitting across from him at the table with one of the Cadbury bars while Tom enthusiastically nodded, you gently stroked the dog's tiny head. You bit the inside of your cheek before asking your next question. You just had to know, your gut instinct was telling you to. 
"Tom…" You folded your hands and leaned slightly forward. "What's your last name? You know, most people have a first name and a last name. Tom is your first name. What's your last name? Tom…"
"Tom Hiddleston."
You gulped, slowly unwrapping the Cadbury bar. Okay, now there might be a bigger problem than the stolen wallet. The real Tom Hiddleston had to be in his thirties or something, at least according to your knowledge. How did this kid have the same name? More importantly, how did he end up in yours and Loki's apartment and what is he doing here? 
"Tom Hiddleston," you repeated to yourself before breaking a piece of the Cadbury bar and putting it inside your mouth. Then, you offered the bar to the boy. Letting the chocolate melt inside your mouth, you watched as he broke off a piece for himself and ate it. "Do you like chocolate?"
"Yeah!" 
"I love chocolate. Do you know who Mister Loki is?" You broke off another piece of the Cadbury bar. 
Tom nodded, "He's a god."
"Yes, what kind of god?"
"He's a funny god!" Tom giggles, "He likes playing pranks!"
You couldn't help but laugh too. "Yes, he does like to play pranks. What about you, do you like pranks, Tom?"
"They're funny."
"Yeah, I think so too." Only sometimes, you thought to yourself. Just then, your phone vibrated and you excused yourself to go answer it.
Loki's voice came through the other end. "Ah, it's you. Are you home, pet?"
Your smile disappeared in an instant. "Loki, you have a lot of explaining to do," you snapped, furrowing your eyebrows. "There is a four-year-old sitting in our kitchen, and he says his name is Tom Hiddleston. Also, why the hell did you steal someone's wallet?!" 
"Is he cute?"
"Loki, I swear to -"
"You adore him," Loki teased.
Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair. "Yes, but Loki… Look, I'm going to call the police as soon as this phone call is over, so they can return this wallet to the rightful owner."
"Or you could just give it to the boy. He won't know about half the things inside it."
"Loki!" 
"It's his wallet anyway."
"What?" You winced, needing to take another breath. "Loki, you're crazy."
"He deserved it," Loki nonchalantly retorted.
Slumping onto the sofa, which was still covered in pillow feathers, you held the mobile phone to your ear. "Explain," you demanded. From the corner of your eye, you could see little Tom feeding himself another piece of chocolate.
"I was having a morning stroll in the park after you'd left for the day, and I came across this man named Tom while he walking his dog.  He asked over and over again if I was the God of Mischief, and kept asking all these questions, including if I was familiar with some company called "Marvel"," Loki explained in an exasperated tone. "Then, his dog jumped on my leg and barked incessantly."
"And then?"
"Then he introduced himself to me, gave me a suffocating hug, apologized for the hug, and asked so many questions about where I was living and what I was doing in London. It was like talking to an exuberant child."
Your eyes widened like saucers. "So you turned him into one?!"
"More or less."
"And that was his wallet and his book on the table? Loki…" You groaned, rubbing your forehead. "Change him back. Please."
"Oh, how I love it when you beg, my pet," Loki snickered before sarcastically replying, "I'm totally convinced."
"Ugh! Could you at least give me Doctor Strange's number or something?!" You inquired, knowing the breaking news that would flood the internet if anyone found out that an internationally-renowned actor was transformed into an innocent four-year-old. "He needs to be changed back into an adult."
On the other side, Loki merely laughed. "No need - I assure you Doctor Strange has the appearance and the behavior of an adult."
"Fuck you!"
"Careful," Loki playfully reminded you. "No bad language in front of the children."
"You're taking care of dinner for three tonight. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal clear."
As soon as Loki ended the call, you put your phone aside and returned to the kitchen.
The little one looked so sweet, playing with the dog and singing to himself. Forgetting about the police and the wallet, you sat across from him and took a piece of chocolate.
"Tom?" You gently called, getting his attention. "Tom, Mister Loki will be coming home soon, alright? In the mean time…perhaps we can talk. Is that alright with you?"
"Sure." Tom nodded, looking up at you with a sweet smile. "You're really pretty."
"Thank you, Tom. You're very sweet." You tilted your head to the side ever-so-slightly. Since it was just the two of you in the kitchen, perhaps you could find a way to while away the time until Loki showed up. "Do you like to listen to music?"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah? Well, maybe I can turn on the radio and we can listen to some music. Would you like that?"
"Okay." Tom climbed out of the chair, following you as you approached the radio sitting on the kitchen counter.  You flicked a switch and turned a knob as it adjusted to a station playing 80's pop. Perhaps your darling little guest might know one of those tunes. 
"She's been living in her uptown world.," the voice of Billy Joel emanated from the little radio. "I bet she's never had a back-street guy. I bet her momma never told her why.
I'm gonna try for an uptown girl…"
"Oh! This is one of my favorites!" You gushed, shimmying your shoulders in time with the music and smiling. 
"She's been living in her white-bred world
as long as anyone with hot blood can. 
And now she's looking for a downtown man. 
That's what I am."
Tom called your name and tapped your wrist. Turning around, you found the little boy standing in the middle of the kitchen. "Watch this," Tom said before doing a pirouette, just like the dancer Wayne Sleep did when he performed this song with Princess Diana in December of 1985. The little boy spun around on one foot a second time before finishing with a dramatic bow. 
You laughed with appreciation and clapped. "Bravo!"
"Come dance with me, Miss. Please?" Tom looked up at you with puppy dog eyes.
"I would be delighted." Taking Tom's little hands in yours, you couldn't stop smiling as the two of you danced in the kitchen to the rest of the song, moving your shoulders and hips. Meanwhile, Tom couldn't stop giggling, looking up at you as if you were the only lady in the world and dancing with you was a dream come true. At one point, you lifted your arm up and twirled the little boy as gracefully as possible, causing him to blush.
"My uptown girl.
You know I'm in love
With an uptown girl"
"What's going on here?" Loki smirked, amused by finding the two of you dancing as the song came to an end. He placed six boxes of Chinese takeaway onto the dining table before helping himself to the Cadbury bar laying around. "Have you been missing me?"
"Mister Loki, you're here!" Tom promptly rushed to hug him, throwing his arms around Loki's legs. 
"Oh, get off, you exuberant little-" Loki was about to push the child away before he caught a glimpse of you giving him a little scowl. The God of mischief relented, patting the little boy on the back with a small smile. "Let's eat?"
You nodded. "Tom, wash your hands please?" You directed him to the bathroom, and watched him dawdle. The radio was now playing "What's Love Got to Do With It" by Tina Turner, a song you hadn't heard in years.
"You adore him," Loki teased you again while the two of you set the table with plates, forks, and cups.
You shook your head, warming the food in the microwave. "He's fun to be around, I'll admit it. By the way, thank you for choosing the fried rice and not getting the plain vegetables." 
He winked at you. "I also remembered to bring two extra fortune cookies, just in case you don't like the fortune inside the one you eat first."
"Thank you."
"I believe now would be a perfect time for you to apologize for telling me to…what was it, my pet?" Loki goaded you. "Fuck me?" 
"Huh?!" Right on cue, Tom pranced into the kitchen and sat down at the table. You snickered at Loki, and ruffled the little boy's hair. You and Loki sat on either side of Tom, and began to help yourselves to the egg rolls, fried rice, pan-fried broccoli with oyster sauce, and a kung pao dish. 
You pointed out each dish to Tom, and invited him to try some. "Thank you, Mister Loki." Tom said in a sing-song voice before putting his fork into a piece of sauce-covered broccoli. 
"You're very welcome, Tom." Loki almost beamed, unable to deny the joy he felt at the little boy's words. The two of you exchanged a smile while all of you continued eating. 
"Mister Loki?" Tom piped up after some time. "Do you dance?"
"Tom, I'm a god," he reminded the boy. "I don't indulge in such trivial things."
Tom proudly told Loki about how the two of you danced in the kitchen, how he showed off his ability to pirouette, and how he held your hands. "You should dance too, Mister Loki!"
"Do you like her?" Loki mischievously asked the boy about you. 
"Yeah!"
Loki and you chuckled. "So do I," he told the boy. 
Tom cheekily grinned, holding an egg roll in his fingers. "You fancy her?" 
The God of Mischief sharply denied, fighting the warmth flooding his cheeks. "Hang on just a second -" 
It was Tom's turn to laugh, his blue eyes sparkling with joy. His laughter rang through the kitchen, like a bird singing for all to hear.
"Tom," you ate a spoonful of fried rice, "what should a person do if they fancy someone? Let's say a man fancies a lady, what should he do?"
Tom shifted in his seat for a moment. "Uh…" He took a bite of his egg roll, chewed, and swallowed. "Uh…he should say 'you're…you're," Tom slowly answers, trying to find the right word, "you're beautiful, and…I fancy you."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
You turned to Loki and smiled before looking at Tom. "That's a very good answer, Tom. Good job."
"And do you fancy Mister Loki?"
Loki grinned mischievously as he waited for your answer.
You took a deep breath. "Well…I do like Mister Loki very much. He is funny…he is a smart god, as you probably know."
"And is he handsome?" Loki interjects.
Shaking your head, you scrunched your nose for a moment. "He can be, when he isn't being such a pain."
Tom laughed some more. "You fancy Mister Loki!"
"Tom, eat your food. Don't forget about the veggies."
"Don't forget about veggies," Tom mimicked you, earning a laugh from Loki. 
Once the three of you had finished eating, Tom asked if he could help you with the dishes. "Of course, Tom." You brought a chair close to the sink for the boy to use as a step stool. Nodding his head along with the music from the radio, Tom rinsed the soap from the dishes after you scrubbed the leftover food and grime off of them.
"You've been very helpful, Tom. Thank you." You ruffled his hair again when he put the last plate in the drying rack. "Would you like some ice cream as a reward?"
"Yes, please!"
You retrieved one of the pints from the freezer, and put three scoops into bowl for Tom. He gleefully thanked you with the same sing-song voice and strolled into the living room while eating. 
Following Tom into the living room, you were surprised to find the living room in perfect condition. The feathers from earlier today were gone, the carpet was free of hair, and the grey boots - presumably Tom's - were neatly tucked into a corner. 
Loki walked into the living room, carrying a stack of folded bedsheets. He knelt before the sofa and began to arrange them into a makeshift bed. "He can sleep on the couch tonight," the God of Mischief commented, placing Tom's stuffed dog Bobby onto the blankets. 
"Thank you, Mister Loki!" For the second time that night, Tom hugged Loki. But this time, Loki hugged him back, holding the boy in his arms for at least a minute. 
"You're welcome. Now go with her and get ready for sleep."
Giving Loki a "thank you", you led Tom away and gave him a spare toothbrush to use for the night. You stood next to him in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth while he brushed his. He even gargled a tiny cup of mouthwash and promptly spit it into the sink. 
Loki watched from a distance, unbeknownst to both of you. He admired the way you interacted with Tom, making the little boy feel welcome the same way that you made him feel welcome when he was assigned by Stark Industries to live with you for the first time. 
He reminisced about the first month that he was living with you. Loki thought about the way you helped him use the shower head, teaching him which way to turn the faucet for hot water versus hot water. He remembered how patient you were when he fumbled with the stove and nearly burned his fingers while boiling a kettle of water. Then there was the time when he tried to warm an aluminum packet of Pop-Tarts in the microwave…You were not pleased by the smell in the kitchen, but nevertheless silenced the smoke alarm before the landlord found out. And then, you showed him how to remove the wrappers and warm the Pop Tarts properly, not-so-gently chastising him all the while.
Loki snickered to himself. He really did deserve that, and the fact that you were willing to call him out when necessary was one of the reasons he liked living with you. Perhaps…perhaps Tom was right. He did fancy you, maybe even more than what he imagined.
You wiped your mouth after brushing your teeth and walked with Tom into the living room. The four-year-old boy climbed onto the couch and snuggled underneath the blankets. 
"Good night," Tom looked up at you and Loki. 
Kneeling before the boy, you gently kissed his hair. "Good night, Tom." Loki turned off the lights in the living room, and you left to change into your pajamas. 
After an hour, you meandered into the hallway to check on your little guest. While Tom peacefully slept and held his stuffed dog to his chest, you felt a pair of arms around your torso. 
"You are very beautiful…and I fancy you," Loki whispered into your ear.
"Stop it," you giggled under your breath. 
Loki held you closer. "Thank you for taking care of him."
"You need to change him back in the morning." You turned around and pointed a finger at him. "The paparazzi will find out about this."
"I've got everything under control," Loki assured you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "And when this is all over…maybe I'll bring another little one home?"
"Loki!" 
"Fine, I'll just make one."
You rolled your eyes in a playful manner and turned around. "Good night, Loki."
"Wait!" Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his arms for a moment. Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours. You melted into the kiss almost immediately, clasping his arms as he held you close. "I don't think I thanked you properly for today." He smirked.
"I think you already have…" You looked up at Loki, not sure if he was being genuine or just making a joke.
Loki tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I really fancy you," he confessed, murmuring your name with affection. "You're the kindest, most beautiful person that I've ever met on Midgard. You welcomed me into your life, you live with me even while knowing all of my history. Everyday you talk to me, indulge me in my games, and bring life into this place. Without you…living on Midgard would be like a prison. But with you, it feels close to paradise.
I know I don't make things easy for you, and sometimes I don't even know how you stand me. What I do know is…there's absolutely no one like you. And I fancy you more than anyone else. Do you…do you feel the same?"
"Loki…"
"Tell me," he softly insisted. All of the smugness from earlier had melted away, leaving nothing but a god who simply wanted to know if his affections were one-sided or not. "If you don't, then I'll forget everything I just told you, and we'll move on like nothing happened."
"And if I do?" You swallowed, your eyes meeting his. "What if I do fancy you, Loki Laufeyson of Asgard and Jotunheim?"
A warm smile spreads across Loki's face and he chuckles. "Do you…do you really?"
You replied matter-of-factly. "Sometimes that happens when you live with someone for six months, and catch them eating ice cream while crying to love songs."
"You tease," he snickered before kissing your lips again. Loki pressed his forehead against yours and held you, enjoying the moment to the fullest.
After what felt like several moments, you stroked Loki's cheekbone. "We should probably head to bed. It's late…and Tom might wake up."
Loki sighed, releasing you from his embrace. The two of you exchanged a "good night" filled with mutual affection and moved towards your separate bedrooms.
BONUS SCENE
A few hours later, you were awoken by fits of giggles and loud screaming. What could possibly be going on now? Climbing out of bed, you turned on the lights and sauntered into the living room.
"Thomas!" You chided, standing at the doorway while Loki and the little boy threw fistfuls of feathers at each other, surrounded by newly-destroyed pillows. "Thomas, for heaven's sake, it's the middle of the night! Will you go to bed?"
Tagging: @smolvenger @lokiismineforever @lokischambermaid @lokiprompts21 @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @lady-rose-moon @holdmytesseract , @icytrickster17 , @thatdummy-girl , @cakesandtom , @turniptitaness , @winterfrostlovetriangle , @lady-rose-moon , @lokisninerealms , @muddyorbsblr , @123forgottherest
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viviennes-tears · 7 months ago
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Little Tease (Tom Hiddleston, Tom Holland, Sebastian Stan & X reader One shot)
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18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion.  ~
A/N: Hello all you wonderful people! 
It's been forever since I last updated and I apologise profusely for my absence. I won't ramble on here about it, as there's a full explanation on my profile about my lack of updates, and an announcement too for you to check out. However I am hoping the following updates have been worth the extended wait.
Also thank you to Florence_Nightwing for sending me another prompt from back in October and for waiting extremely patiently for me to write this. I will say I got into a flow which then took a turn and I hope it worked out well. It was certainly fun to write and a great way to come back 😊 x
(This is now the last of the October 2023 prompts and prompts are still currently closed.)
Prompt requested by Florence_Nightwing on AO3: If your not too inundated, can you please do another like this? Tom and Sebastian go to the costume trailer to see Tom Holland in just his Spiderman thong for the female costume assistant he fancies. They decide to be annoying big brothers and tease him in front of her even going as far as to give him a wedge and ask her how she likes his butt cheeks, and they play with them. Something goofy like that, please.
Summary: You are working on a Marvel set as an assistant in the costume department. You've worked on all the solo Tom Holland (your crush) SpiderMan movies previously working on this movie set. You've always enjoyed the working environment and those who you've worked with, however this one particular day onset was one you weren't expecting, which ended up involving Tom, Tom Hiddleston and Sebastian Stan. Along the way you gain a new self-discovery. 
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"I'm sorry I keep causing you extra work all the time." Tom says, while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Nonsense, Tom, you know it's my job to do repairs and assist on costume designs." You assured him, as you prepare to fix his Spidey suit for the thousandth time whilst working on this movie alone. 
Actually you've been lucky enough to be a costume assistant on all the solo SpiderMan movies since Tom took on the role, however this is the first time you've worked on any of the other Marvel projects, because usually when they asked for you to come back you had to decline, due to other work obligations. Although you made sure for all the solo SpiderMan movies that you were available to work, partly because you enjoyed those who you worked with, and partly because of your crush on Tom. Not that he knows you have feelings for him, nor have you noticed he has a crush on you too, despite it being so obvious to everyone else.
Once you had set everything ready you helped unzip him out of his suit, before he carefully pulled the suit down and off in order to not cause any further damage, albeit neither of you are aware of being watched during this short interaction. At least not until...
"Well, well, well Thomas...have we been careless again?" Sebastian says playfully, as he himself and Hiddleston emerge from their hiding spot from around the corner, each of them carrying their own costumes in their arms. Holland instantly sighs and rolls his eyes at the older men as they approach while you try to hide your amusement.
"Come now, Seb, don't embarrass the boy in front of the lovely lady." Hiddleston says flirtatiously, taking your hand and kissing it, purposely to annoy Holland and make you blush as you often did whenever he put on the charm.
"Aren't you two done for the day?" Tom asks slightly frustratedly, as Hiddleston winks at you and lets your hand go.
"We are indeed." Hiddleston replies, taking Sebastian's costume from him and hanging both of their costumes onto the correct standing rack.
"But there's no rush to be anywhere...besides we've not had much chance to catch up yet." Sebastian adds with a sly smile on his lips as he eyes Holland up and down. Clearly he is calculating his next move, making Holland a bit nervous, as for yourself you've somewhat recovered from Tom's charming act a moment ago.
Hiddleston suddenly appears behind Holland without him noticing until he feels the older man's big hands on his shoulders, causing him to flitch slightly, and then breath out when he turns his head to see who it was. "Relax, Tom." Hiddleston chuckles before he begins massaging his bare shoulders.
"Yeah, just us here..." Sebastian adds, his eyes darkening with mischief intent and Tom assumed Hiddleston looked the same way, they usually do when the teasing is going to take a turn that he can never quite predict what will come of it.
You cleared your throat shortly after Sebastian said that and then you began to assess the full extent of the damage to Tom's Spidey suit over by your workbench. Holland gulped as he felt Hiddleston’s hands gently trail down his back, before the slight squeeze on his hips. The way Tom squirmed distracted you and made you look between the men confused by the silent looks between each of them.
"What?" You asked with furrowed eyebrows, abandoning the Spidey suit on your workbench.
"What do you think of Thomas here?" Sebastian asks out of the blue, stunning you from the unexpected question. Sebastian's smirk reappears as he pulls Tom closer to him, making him face you while he drapes his arm around Tom's neck, and his hand resting on his bare chest. Tom stands there awkwardly, and he knows if he tries to move away it would be a futile attempt, meaning Sebastian will make it worse for him if he tries.
"Well...I-I think he's a great guy. Never difficult to work with nor does he cause any drama like some people can on sets." You replied, choosing these words as a safe way to answer the question. "Want more than that, love." Hiddleston says in a low seductive voice close to you, his scent invading your senses too. He did it on purpose again, getting you to blush and for Holland to feel annoyed he's flirting with you once more.
"You can't say you're not attracted to him right now...I mean look at this face." Sebastian teases as he pinches Holland's cheeks together with his free hand, the other still resting on his bare chest, his actions causing Tom to get a little flustered now he's worked out their intentions. Even if he hasn't worked out how far they will go.
You struggle to find words to divert from divulging your true feelings for Tom, but the blush on your cheeks was evident enough for them anyway, not that either Sebastian or Hiddleston would mention they've known for a long time already. Despite your inability to defend yourself it didn't falter the older men from teasing the pair of you further.
"He's quite the catch, no?" Hiddleston asks, his fingers brushing against your exposed arms due to the short sleeves you have on today, the feather-like touch forming goosebumps on your arms. 
"What's not to like? He's young, good looking and sweet as you girls like to say." Sebastian continued, letting go of Holland's cheeks, but the hand which had been resting on his chest no longer stayed still. Instead his fingers started to circulate around Tom's left nipple slowly and gently. The sensation caused Tom's nipple to react and form a tweak-able point, much to his annoyance Sebastian took advantage, rolling the peak of his nipple between his fingers. Your eyes widened slightly, this wasn't at all where you imagined this conversation to go at all, of course your reaction amused the older men to no end.
"What more could you ask for, darling?" Hiddleston adds, as he moves over to the guys, his fingers gone yet left a tingling sensation in their wake.
"Alright, alright guys, I think Y/N is getting uncomfortable now." Tom says with nervous laughter and pleading eyes. It's clear he's trying to hide something from you, you just can't work out what, at least not yet.
Sebastian mockingly ponders for a few seconds before saying, "no, I think we're getting somewhere with this. Right, Tommy?"
"Right." Hiddleston agrees, wrapping his arm around Holland's waist, Sebastian's still around his neck. "We're only helping out the little guy." Hiddleston adds playfully, both he and Sebastian chuckle simultaneously. Holland sighs exasperatedly, you're speechless, this being the strangest interaction you've had with any of them.
"Come on, Thomas, lighten up." Sebastian says, his hand trailing down Tom's back down to his ass, squeezing his bare ass cheek firmly. Holland's eyes widened in surprise as he jumped a little at the same time. "Do you like his ass, Doll?" Sebastian asks, a darker look appearing in his eyes as he stares at Holland.
"I-I er..." You stuttered, your cheeks flushing again at another risque question, Tom's cheeks just as red too.
"I think you just need a memory refresher." Sebastian says, his fingers wrapping around the thin waistband of Tom's thong, then tugging at them swiftly and yanking them upwards. Tom lets out a little unexpected yelp as his balls were being strung up. His lips then press into a firm thin line as Sebastian man handles him with his free hand, Hiddleston's arm falling from his waist, his butt then on full display to you now he's been made to turn around. "Mhm...peachy." Sebastian adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 
A few seconds later Sebastian man handles Tom again, he stumbles as Sebastian forces him to walk over to the workbench, he frees up some space, shoving things aside including the Spidey suit to one side too. Followed by Sebastian standing to the side while pressing Tom forwards against the workbench, forcing him face down, his hand pressing down on his back with his fingers splayed out to keep him in place. Hiddleston starts smirking in his signature Loki way, his eyes darkening now too to match Sebastian's own, he also continues to crotch down on the other side of Holland, spanking his ass hard and Holland yelps again. Your jaw drops instantly, realising they must have a much closer relationship than anyone knew about, plus the more you witness their behaviour the more you realised you're now somehow involved too.
"He likes a good spanking." Hiddleston seemed to have a look about him that made you realise he really wasn't joking, despite his tone sounded like he was. The next thing you knew was Hiddleston grabbing hold of your wrist, gently pulling you closer, as Holland peered over his shoulder shyly with brightly flushed cheeks. "Give it a try, love." Hiddleston encourages, his thumb gently rubbing over your skin and you feel another tingling sensation from his touch.
The older men see you're hesitant, you have every right to be though, after all you've never spanked anyone before. Sebastian and Hiddleston give each other an exchange of looks in agreement, leading to Hiddleston easing your hand towards Holland's butt, before getting you to cup his bare ass cheek in your palm. You all hear the loud gulp from Holland and you feel his ass clenching beneath your touch. Followed by you taking a shaky breath out of nervousness, albeit your fingers soon twitch, feeling the warmth of Holland's ass in your hand and Hiddleston's fingers lightly caressing the back of your hand. This lasts for a long moment before Hiddleston leads your hand away and back again, a light tap on Holland's ass on re-entry, he's easing you into the idea of spanking. All the while Sebastian watched Hiddleston teach you how to spank someone the right way to bring pleasure. Of course he was delighted by the sight and absentmindedly caressed Holland's body.
Every touch and sensation was affecting Tom, his breathing becoming more shaky and low, his cheeks still bright red, while his fists kept clenching and unclenching. Although the long awaited anticipation eventually arrived, after the small little practice goes your hand thwacked against his ass hard, a low moan escaping Tom's lips upon impact while you felt the way his flesh had a slight heat to it already.
Hiddleston rose up to his full height shortly thereafter, leaning in closer towards you, his scent assaulting your senses again due to the closeness. "Again, darling." Hiddleston whispered lowly, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, causing your lips to part slightly to allow a tiny puff of air to escape. A smirk appeared on his lips like before as his fingers wrapped around your wrist once more. "Again." He repeats.
You look toward Sebastian who nods approvingly and bites his lower lip. By this point however it's like these men have gotten under your skin like you never imagined they could, yet somehow they had accomplished to do so. On the other hand it was all rather arousing too, once you had become acquainted with the situation you found yourself in, a situation which would be engraved into your memory for sure.
As you prepared to give Tom another good smack he peered over his shoulder at you again. His eyes seem to be staring into your soul, not like he's begging for you to stop, in fact you see the opposite and you know he wants more. There have been many times where you pictured Tom during the throes of pleasure, however never in your wildest dreams had you pictured him like being dominated. That look did give you reassurance about doing this and you went for it this time. This time you spanked Tom's butt repeatedly in a rapid quick session, the older men not able to take their eyes off the scene before them, while Tom moaned and yelped in pleasure. 
"Enough." Sebastian suddenly cuts you off mid action after a few consecutive slaps. You do as you're told and watch Sebastian help Tom to stand up properly again. His hand massaging Tom's butt, earning a low grunt from Tom, both older men chuckled.
"Not bad, love." Hiddleston praises and places a kiss upon your reddened cheek. Getting their approval actually felt nice, but you also had a feeling you've definitely delved into something with the three of them now. 
In the end you found it wasn't as far-fetched as it may have first sounded, because within the next hour an hour you found yourself in Hiddleston's trailer with the three of them, naked. Your seemingly normal day working on set turned into an afternoon delight partaking in a foursome. A foursome with even more kinky antics and you being fucked in every hole at the same time. Your body got used and over simulated in the most pleasurable way by the end. Along the way discovering a new side of yourself, a side of yourself you wanted to continue to explore, the exploration you knew would only ever be satisfied with these three beautiful men.
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Tom Hiddleston Masterlist
Source: @viviennes-tears
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muddyorbsblr · 2 years ago
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requests are open (again) for 2 weeks!
Yes, I know that I haven't even gotten through half of the 500 follower celebration requests, but in order to celebrate 1000 followers (again, what the fuck?? thank you??), I will be opening up requests once again for 2 weeks. They will come at a major delay, but they will be there come hell or high water.
Requests will close on: 22 January 2023
Rules after the cut
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Smut (obviously) is absolutely allowed. It's up to you if you want me to take full control on what goes down in the smut, or if you want to give me specific things you want to happen throughout the scene
no anal play (i don't, and might never, trust myself to write this convincingly. hell i'm surprised my current smut be smutting ngl)
no water sports
no 💩 (just in case this isn't obvious lemme spell it out)
no blood
no dubcon/noncon; no pedophilia; no necrophilia; no bestiality
no Daddy kink (i still don't trust myself to write this convincingly, sorry)
Pairings I will write for:
Male Loki x Female Reader
Thomas Sharpe x Female Reader
Jonathan Pine x Female Reader
Magnus Martinsson x Female Reader
Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader
Oakley x Female Reader
Will Ransome x Female Reader
James Conrad x Female Reader
How to Request:
Option 1: visit the blog @muddyorbs-writes and pick a prompt from any of the posts that have been reblogged on there. Send me an ask on this blog with a link to the post. If the post is a list of prompts, include the specific prompt/s in your ask.
Option 2: send me an ask containing your own story synopsis/concept/prompt
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lady-rose-moon · 2 years ago
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My sweet Baronet
Summary: being married to Sir Thomas Sharpe had some... inconvenient setbacks but you are sure to worth through them with your husband.
Warnings: smut, mentioned incest, Lucille Sharpe, angst, mentions of grooming 🤢
A/N: come on, I love writing for Thomas, gimme a break!!
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Allerdale was colder at night. You had to pull up the blankets to your chin to even feel a semblance of warmth. The house was falling apart and yet neither Thomas nor Lucille had paid for someone to repair it. You had offered to get the finest builders on the job but both had vehemently ordered that you not hire anyone. Then there were the ghosts that you kept seeing, they were always in your peripheral vision or disappeared just as you realised they were there. 
Thomas had always insisted that the ghosts were just your imagination but you knew that you saw them and you could see in your husband’s eye that he believed you. On the subject of your husband, he was once again not in your bed tonight. It was saddening that you were becoming used to being alone in the King sized bed when you fell asleep and awoke. 
You were fully awake tonight and decided that you would explore the crumbling mansion with your candelabra, the stray dog at your feet. Your bare feet pattered against the rotting floorboards as you walked along the floor that you were on. Thomas’s grand bedroom seemed to take up most of the floor but the other side was unfurnished as if all the furniture had been sold because of lack of use. 
Something urged you up the stairs, the hairs on your arm rising as you came up into the attic, hearing the soft song of a woman; Lucille. Dread pooled in your stomach as you edged closer to Lucille’s bedroom door and when you turned the knob and the door swung open, you were greeted with the sight of Lucille on Thomas’s lap, her hand down the front of his trousers and his mouth locked on her neck. 
You were so tempted to say something but before they could register that you had been there, you had closed the door again and swept down the stairs back into Thomas’s spacious bedroom. 
You began to pace the floor as you nibbled on one of your nails. They slept together. They loved each other. Thomas doesn’t love you. The recording tubes that you listened to, the photo of a baby, you realised now that the baby wasn’t Thomas’s with Enola, it was Lucille’s baby.
Nausea rose in your throat but you swallowed it down as you moved to sit on the windowsill and watch the snow fall. You were in a one-sided marriage. You loved Thomas more than anything, he had been there for you endlessly when your brother died, leaving you the heir to your family's fortune. 
You didn’t realise how long you were sitting on the sill until a soft pair of lips pressed to your forehead. Your eyes shifted from the freshly fallen snow to the alluring blue of your husband's eye, the eyes that had only been for Lucille all this time. 
“How long?” you whispered, feeling your husband falter in his stance, staring at you with a look of confusion.
“How long, what, my darling?” Thomas whispered, sitting on the sill in front of you, a frown playing at his lips when he saw how distraught you looked and he noted how you looked as if you hadn’t gotten a speck of sleep last night. 
You scoffed and looked back out of the window to the fallen snow, wishing you were as free as the snowflakes elegantly falling from the clouds. Instead, you felt like a wealthy caged bird inside the crumbling mansion belonging to your husband and his sister/mistress. “How long have you been fucking Lucille, Thomas?” you spat, meeting his gaze head on and you watched his eyes widen comically and his breath hitch, “how long?!”
Thomas released a breathy chuckle and stood from the sill, knowing you still had your eyes on him as he walked to his wardrobe and pulled out the day’s outfit. “I have no idea what you are talking about, dearest, Lucille is my sister,” the Baronet returned eventually, buttoning his shirt and looking over at you, registering the cold look in your eye and flinching away from it.
“Don’t play with pretty words, Baronet,” you sneered, rising from your seat and ignoring the ache in your rear from sitting as you approached your cheater of a husband, “I saw you in the early hours of this morning, her hand down your pants, you openly appreciating her neck. Don’t bullshit me, Thomas.”
“Such words, my love!” Thomas protested, his brows furrowing with worry.
“The Gods will pardon my words to you, husband! Avoiding my question will only prolong my blasphemy! Admit it and God shall forgive,” you countered, your arms crossing over your nightgown as you held his gaze. You weren’t afraid of the man before you even though you knew he had the power to kill you with his bare hands.
Thomas lowered his head and sighed, tears forming in his oceanic eyes as he whispered, “since I was young.”
The words struck you immediately and you stared at your husband incredulously, “since… since you were how young, Thomas?”
“Since I was a boy,” the Baronet whispered, raising his head to meet yours as his eyes glimmered with confusion, “don’t tell me you and your brother didn’t…”
You realised his implication and you were sickened by it. Not him, never him, but you were sickened of Lucille for manipulating the Baronet into thinking that incest was the done thing when children were young. “God no!” you protested quickly, watching Thomas’s eyes widen in surprise, “that is wrong, Thomas, sex between siblings is so very wrong indeed!”
“But… Lucille said…” Thomas trailed off, his eyes becoming distant as tears formed again and dripped down his cheeks. “Lucille said that it was how I showed my love for her,” he whispered at last, watching your face fall.
You stepped closer to your husband and cupped his cheek, watching him instantly lean into the warmth of your palm. “This is love,” you whispered, watching as his eyes struggled to meet your own, “my love for you is the real love here. Lucille was manipulating you for her own gain. If she slept with you, lost her flower then she would never have to marry.”
Thomas tensed and shook his head quickly as tears brimmed in his beautiful eyes. You hated watching him cry. He rarely did but after a night of running experiments on his machine and failing to get it running, he would seek you out and rant until he was in tears. In a reflex that you knew you would never get rid of, you reached up and wiped away his tears, watching the muscles in his face relax as he leaned into the contact. 
“What you have with her isn’t love,” you whispered, watching Thomas’s eyes flutter open to meet yours. You offered him a soft smile as you edged him backwards to the bed and smiled as he fell back onto the sheets, his eyes never leaving your own. “Let me show you what love is,” you pleaded, noticing how his breath hitched and felt as his cock took an interest.
You leaned your body down and began to pepper kisses down from behind his ear to the top of his half-buttoned shirt. The chest hair that was visible teased your lips as you pulled away.
“This isn’t love, either,” Thomas whispered, a frown playing on his thin lip.
“How can you be sure?” you whispered, your hand grazing over his trousers just enough for him to hiss from the contact. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me?” you questioned, fully prepared for his rejection. He loved Lucille. This was never to be.
Thomas hesitated before bringing your face to his gently and pressing a loving kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed and he followed quickly after. You quickly unbuttoned his shirt, your hands roaming over his chest and down his abdomen as you sat on his hips. The kiss was passionate and full of lust, unlike the sparse and quick pecks that he had given to you before. 
Thomas was breathless beneath you as you both devoured the taste of each other. You had missed feeling this electric excitement when you were near him, he had been so distant lately that you felt as if you would soon fall out of love with him too. You pulled away from his lips and whispered a faint, “please don’t divorce me.”
Thomas’s eyes slowly opened and met your own quickly in confusion. “Divorce you?” he whispered brokenly, his soft hands climbing up your thighs on either side of his lap, “why, by God, would I do that?”
“To resume your tryst with Lucille,” you replied simply, disgust lacing your tone as you spoke but you watched as Thomas quickly shook his head and captured your lips in his again. This kiss was slow, trusting and understanding. Thomas needed you to know that he loved you, depended on your love for him, obsessed over seeing your smile, needy to feel your bare skin against his own.
“No,” he murmured against your lips, his hands continuing their journey exploring your clothed body before he pulled the sleeping gown from your body and admired the body beneath. “No, I would never continue my tryst with Lucille,” he continued, his eyes locked with yours as his hands hesitantly explored, “not after you have opened my eyes.”
The Baronet’s hands held your waist and flipped you over onto the mattress, his strong body leaning over you as he heaved breaths, his pupils dilated and the evident arousal pressing against his trousers. “I crave you, sweet one,” Thomas whispered, one of his hands roaming over your body, cupping your breast and gently playing with one of your nipples with his thumb, “I crave to know how it feels to bring you into womanhood, to watch your face contort in such beautiful expressions of pleasure, to hear you scream to Heaven above that I am your husband, that I am yours, as I always should have been.”
You nodded eagerly and he smirked as he lowered his lips onto yours once more. You sighed between his lips and bit back playfully, your chest pressing up against his own, now naked, torso. Your fingers slithered up the sides of his neck and your nails wrapped themselves in the beautiful curls that surrounded his head like a halo. You pulled away for breath but didn’t let anything more than a second pass before you captured his lips again, one of your hands disentangling from his hair to slide down to his trousers, aiding him in pulling them off. 
Thomas groaned against your lips as he was now freed from the confinement of his pants. His hardened length was already swollen and red, greedily anticipating breaching you and claiming you. Before you could pull him closer, Thomas pulled himself from you and smirked as he whispered, “allow me to do something for us both, darling.”
You nodded shakily and watched as he left the bed, grabbed a cloth and covered the door handle and keyhole with it, nodding with satisfaction to himself before returning to you. Once he was back on top of you, he grabbed one of your legs and began to press open-mouthed kisses to your bare skin and he revelled in the way that you whined and arched up for him. He was so patient, so gentle, sucking marks into your skin all over and allowing you to feel so perfect.
“Are you ready?” he whispered gently, watching as your eyes met his and you nodded eagerly, your eyes fluttering shut when Thomas’s lips met yours. You had almost forgotten what was happening before you felt the hot tip of his cock press against your entrance and you whined into the kiss but Thomas pulled from your lips and pressed gentle kisses down your neck as he whispered, “it’s okay, I have you, baby,” and his cock gradually slipped inside. 
Once he was fully seated inside you, Thomas threw his head back in pleasure and released a throaty groan. He wasn’t surprised at your tightness, he fully enjoyed your nervous whimper and gasps, craving for him to move with half of your body but the other half needed a wait. Thomas slowly eased out of you and kissed away the pained expression that drew your brow together before he slowly thrust forward and savoured your pleasure-filled moan.
Minutes passed with him performing these small motions, of you keening beneath him and your legs beginning to wrap around his middle before you were ready and his thrusts increased. 
The feeling of his cock slowly increasing in speed made your heart flutter and electricity run throughout your body. You had needed this ever since you had first signed that marriage certificate. 
“Thomas,” you whined against him as the raven-haired Baronet cradled your head and his hips increased in their speed, his cock continuing to fuck you so deliciously well. He felt so perfect inside you and you knew that you needed this immediately, you couldn’t go another day without this. “I love you, mmnn, I love you, husband,” you whispered, feeling his cock twitch inside you at your confession.
Thomas pulled back and studied your eyes, trying to find the lie but when he found nothing but love, trust and lust, he smiled and pressed his lips quickly to yours before pulling back and whispering, “I love you too.”
Groaning, he pulled out to the tip before sinking back in and listening to your delighted moan at the motion so he proceeded to do it again and again, increasing the pace until he was pounding into you and bringing out feral moans from the back of your throat.
Your hands left his hair to grip at the sheets beside your head as your filter for noise was destroyed by the intoxicating feel of his cock bruising your insides repeatedly. The Baronet had to be carved by a sulptor, you thought as pleasure filled your mind, he was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and yet he still looked utterly handsome. 
Thomas’s hand fell to your eager clit and began to massage it slowly before gradually matching the pace to his thrusts, pushing you over the edge into utter oblivion. He didn’t leave you waiting long, however, as he came quickly behind you and moaned your name into the quiet air of the grand bedroom. 
Silence reigned in the room as you both came down from your highs and as Thomas cleaned you up, pressing light kisses to your legs as he cleaned your cunt of any of his seed that leaked out and your natural juices. 
When Thomas finally slipped into bed minutes later, you rolled over and draped your arm over his chest, your head fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. The sound of his heart pounding below his skin was oddly comforting and reassured you that he was your husband and you were his wife. 
“Thomas?” you whispered into the dark, earning a drowsy hum in reply, “what do we do about your sister?”
“What do you mean?” Thomas asked, his head shifting so he could easily look down at your head on his shoulder.
Your cheeks flushed and you looked away from him, “well, she probably heard all of this, what do we do?”
“I don’t care,” Thomas replied, pulling you into another soft kiss before rolling on top of you and claiming your lips. 
You eagerly accepted his kiss before his hand began to slip between your legs and you pulled away with a laugh, “Thomas, we just got clean!”
“Then I shall clean you again and again, my love, you shall never feel deprived of my love,” Thomas answered smugly, spreading kisses down your neck that turned your laughter into moans.
Just outside the door, Lucille Sharpe had planned 14,785,435 ways to kill you for stealing Thomas from her.
~~~~~~~~~~~
@lokisgoodgirl
@lokisninerealms
@evelyn-kingsley
@slpnbty2001
@jennyggggrrr
@hahaha12123445
@ozymdias
@holdmytesseract
@itsybitchylittlewitchy
@lovingchoices14
@xorpsbane
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andsheloved · 2 years ago
Text
𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔
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pairing ~ sir thomas sharpe x f!reader
word count ~ 1.3k
summary ~ when your own mind seems shattered, you're reminded of who will always be there to pick up the pieces.
warnings ~ plotless, pointless fluff, mention of nightmares/past traumatic experiences (nothing specific is mentioned), brief mention of death, implied insomnia, everyone needs to get some sleep.
a/n ~ this isn't the best thing i've written but my brain !! needed this !! let this be my little lullaby goodnight gift to you, and please enjoy some comforting thomas sharpe regardless mwauh :)
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You could compare the feeling to something like falling, even if it really felt nothing like that. It wasn't that weightless, somewhat pleasant feeling one would get when drifting back into their own reality. It felt like death.
And in a way, maybe it was.
Even in your dreams, you could feel yourself falling back into the clutches of that endless cycle you couldn't seem to break, even while you attempted to find some sort of reprieve from your own mind in sleep, you still found yourself tormented, cursed with the ability of remembering.
You jolted awake, and suddenly you could feel your body once again, sensing how your chest rose and fell at a speed that, you had to admit, even worried yourself. You winced at the overwhelming buzzing that rang through your mind as you attempted to bring yourself back to the reality you found yourself paralyzed in, the only thing of warmth you could sense were the tears creeping down your face, stinging your eyes and reminding you of your own mortality.
"Dearest..." You could hear his voice, and although it was barely above a whisper to your ears, it felt like a tether, a life raft being thrown to you.
And so you reached for it, searching for the hushed flickers of his loving tone as you cut through the wicked, twisted vines that kept you from him, trying to return yourself to at least something akin to a resting state.
"You're alright..." You could hear him murmur, the feeling of his soft lips against the shell of your ear finally reaching your senses. "I'm here. I promise... You're safe..."
You felt a pain in your throat, as if being suffocated by your own anguish. The sensation was one of a monster in your chest, scratching and clawing against your insides, begging to be released in some sort of carnal, ferociously pained scream, though your lips remained sealed, or at least partially sealed. All that could escape your lips was a single, wounded sigh.
"Thomas..." You breathed, your trembling hand barely shifting, grasping for any part of him that you could hang on to.
"I'm right here."
His smooth voice only got clearer with each passing second, the feeling of his thumb gently brushing across your knuckles anchoring you to reality.
"I'm right here..." He continued to repeat, the gentle cadence of his words lulling your heartbeat until you began to feel some semblance of peace. "I'm right here."
Even as your mind settled, as your body began to no longer feel as if you had just ran some sort of harrowing marathon, you could still barely manage to say a word, so an almost silent whimper was all that escaped you.
And yet, even without a word uttered, he still managed to understand you.
Just as he always did.
His arms seemed to wrap around you in an instant, enveloping you into the warmth that you always seemed to find yourself longing for these days. Your heart stilled, finally at peace.
"Was it-"
You solemnly nodded before he could even finish, your chin gently nuzzling against his bicep as you did.
"Well..." He groaned softly, adjusting himself against you as he tenderly pulled you flush against his firm chest, prompting you to finally turn your head to face him. "You're safe now. Nothing can hurt you. Nothing could ever."
You swallowed harshly, your mind briefly returning to your previous state.
If it were anyone else, you might have even dared to accuse them of witchcraft, but it was Thomas. Your Thomas. And he knew you in a way you couldn't even comprehend yourself. It was as if he could read your mind, his thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, his touch shackling you once again to him.
He let out a gentle chuckle, "Don't leave me," He smiled, "Not when I've just gotten you back."
This time, you had managed to squeak out a few words in response. "Thank you."
You watched as his eyes softened, his eyebrows falling into an expression of slight concern. "You've nothing to thank me for." He grumbled, you noticed how his cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink as he spoke, this fact illuminated only by the dull slivers of moonlight that crept in from the window. "It's my honor."
Before you could stop it, a small chuckle left your lips, almost forgetting your situation entirely. "Honored?" You questioned softly. You couldn't even manage yourself half of the time, how could anyone feel any sort of honored to pick up after you?
His brows furrowed, a small, almost frustrated sounding huff came from him before he began to speak. "The first time..." He mumbled, trailing off for a moment, though you already knew what he was trying to say.
When the nightmares began.
"You could have turned from me," He continued, gently tracing his thumb against your cheek, "Pushed me from you entirely. Told me to leave you even." He smiled wistfully, "You didn't though. You allowed me to stay, to hold you, to promise that you were safe, that I would always protect you. You bestowed me with that honor, and it is not one that I take lightly." He finished, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
If you knew any better, you could have easily begun believing that he carried some sort of magic within him, your eyes gently drooping closed as soon as his lips touched your skin. Though maybe that was the magic of him, how he could calm your mind so easily.
The deep, quietly thunderous hum that rolled through him reached your ears like a lullaby, and you could feel his lips curl into a soft smile against your forehead.
There were a million words caught in your throat. Thousands of 'how could I ever live without you', hundreds of 'thank you's' and countless 'I love you's' begging to be ripped from your lips, and just as it was all about to come pouring out at once, as you began to acknowledge the fact that once you began speaking, you would certainly be awake until the morning, it seemed that he read your mind, silencing your thoughts at once.
"Get some rest, love, we can speak of everything in the morning if you'd like." He paused for a moment as he pulled at the heavy, quilted blanket engulfing you both, "Even if you choose not to, I'll be right beside you... Always."
His words faded as you drifted closer to the edge of exhaustion. You knew of the possibility of another nightmare, the lingering possibility of those all too familiar tendrils of pain and horror stained pieces of your imagination reaching out for you once again tonight, but somehow, you held no fear.
The heat of his body flooded your senses as you finally fell asleep, his final words somehow even reaching you in your unconsciousness, or maybe they weren't even his words, at least not in the current sense. Maybe they were just the words he had ingrained in you ever since the first time he told you that he loved you, the words that wrapped around you, filling you with light in any moment you felt surrounded by darkness. Maybe he hadn’t even uttered a thing, maybe it was just your own mind, comforting your soul with the voice of him as you fell into sleep.
Either way, you found you didn’t mind, all you cared for was that his voice was with you, guiding you through whatever darkness you may happen to encounter the rest of the night.
You could hear him as your breath evened and your pulse slowed, feeling him hold your hand through the pitch blackness. Even as your own mind attempted to betray you, taunting you with memories of pain you couldn’t seem to outrun, you could hear him.
“I’m here my dear, I always will be.”
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fall-ish time = crimson peak time always for me. i know it has been a while and this isn't a huge fic or anything, but i've been writing this one on and off since things got a bit weird for me mentally, i just needed some pointless, fluffy, reassurance for my brain being weird, and hey if it came from thomas sharpe that wouldn't be too bad either :) i hope you all are doing so so good and thank you all for all your nice messages recently, i promise i will respond to all of them so soon!!
check out my masterlist :)
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angelkhi · 3 years ago
Text
Jealousy, Jealousy - L.L
Pairing: Priest!Loki x Reader
Summary: You turn to anonymous confession at your local church to help solve your problems, though the priests solution seems far from holy.
Warnings: SMUT 18+, both Loki & reader are kind of switches???., handjob, blasphemy, language obvs, oral (f), dirty talk?, cum play?, overstimulation, crying?, some mentions of loneliness, squirting?
Word count: 2.6k
A little note: Fleabag ruined me! anyways, here's some sins in the confessional <3 As always sorry for any typos, and let me know if I miss any warnings!
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The whole religious lifestyle had never really been your thing, even your presence beneath the looming arches and holy paintings felt sacrilegious. You're not entirely sure what you're doing there, what drove you to believe a confessional booth would solve the many problems in your life, but here you are.
The building is magnificent, dark wooden beams running up the walls and crossing along the grand white ceilings. A pipe organ adorns a large section of the left hand wall, surrounded by four aisles of wooden pews. The alter is surrounded by a large stain glass window, a large cross at the centre, behind the pure stone communion table. Though you had little knowledge or desire for the religion itself, you can't deny the sheer beauty of the place.
"Can I help you?" The voice echos about the vast space, startling you from your spot to turn and look at the culprit. He's a tall man, loose dark curls, mossy green eyes, clerical collar; he was singlehandedly both the most holy and sinful thing you'd witness in your lifetime. He was also by the looks of things, a priest.
"I uh, wanted to- confession. I've come to confession." The words are quite the opposite of elegant and you blame it on the way he squares his already broad shoulders, the lean muscles on his chest pushing against the cotton black shirt.
"Of course. Come." Yes father. "I'm Father Laufeyson, but if it makes me easier you can call me Loki." He offers out a hand for you to shake, which you gladly accept offering a small smile in the process. His skin is soft, warm and inviting, so much so you're not sure how you managed to drop his hand. His eyes linger for a moment, something not quite sacred or holy within them but you brush it off, and allow him to guide you to a secluded corner of the church where two little cubby holes are separated by two ancient wooden doors.
He pulls one open and gestures for you to step inside, shutting it behind you with a dull thud. A gentleman, you think to yourself. But those eyes. There's something in them. Father Laufeyson's door thuds shut some seconds later and a comfortable silence falls over the two of you.
"I've never really done this before," you speak lightly, "I'm not sure where to even start."
"I'll guide you, don't worry. Repeat after me, 'Bless me Father, for I have sinned, this is my first confession'," He waits for you to repeat after him and continues, "Tell me your sins."
Maybe it's it's voice, the mighty boom of respect with slightly sensual undertones that has your thighs rubbing together, sexual thoughts about a priest, whilst in a church, a sin in itself. You force your brain to settle, the thoughts to subside and will a strength to your voice before you divulge.
"I'm not sure why I'm here, maybe cause it's cheaper than therapy, I don't know," you pause, silently kicking yourself until you hear his breathy laugh, lacking no sort of grace, a hymn in its own right.
"Go on, I won't judge anything you say." You can hear the smile in his voice as he goes on to say, "Scouts honour,"
It's your turn to laugh now as you relax more into the decrepit wooden bench that creaks if you so much as breath a little too loud. The silence is both comforting and deafening, knowing that the second you start talking all you'll want to hear is that silence.
"I'm jealous, of my friends, of everyone. They're all falling in love and I'm alone. And I guess I'm jealous of them." You pause for a moment, mulling over your thoughts and how to best speak them to a fucking priest of all people.
"Go on." Those two little words of encouragement, especially from his mouth, is like turning on a tap and you're unable to control yourself as your words spill out.
"They're all off going out, having fun,  meeting new people, finding guys that are actually interested in them and having mind blowing sex which I know is... a lot of sinning but maybe... maybe I want to sin too."
"Then sin."
"Excuse me?" His words take you aback, the sheer bluntness of his tone.
"The only way to recognise good is to know bad, so sin. Sin til your hearts content, as long as you confess, God will always forgive your sins." Father Laufeyson speaks some wisdom to you, even if you roll your eyes at the religious part, but what do you expect, he's a priest after all.
"Isn't that kind of against your job description? Telling me to sin? And regardless. I wouldn't know where to even start."
"Maybe so, but you need my help and I'm offering it to you," His breath is deep and contemplative, gripping a tight leash on his control, "Come here."
Once again you're startled, not by his words but by the tone. By the sensual command that has you on your feet and wandering to his side of the confessional booth, the two of you in the tiny space leaning no room for personal space.
"Is this allowed?"
"I wouldn't say so no. Only if you want it." Lust. That look in his eyes, the one from earlier, it was a moment unbridled, pure lust. He was offering himself to you like some sort of sin shrouded communion.
You do. You want it so bad you'll be confessing til the day you die, but you also have no self control so you let him guide you to his lap and take a seat across his firm thighs.
"I need to hear you say you want it, kitten." He almost purrs against your ear, and it's impossible to uphold your morals and say no.
"I want it, Father. Please."
His kiss is searing hot, a secure hand on the small of your back making sure you have nowhere to move as he grinds up against you, the small amount of friction leaving you whimpering like the desperate, touch starved slut you are.
Loki's hands leave you only to undo the top few buttons on his shirt and remove his clerical collar. Father Laufeyson's shirt is unbuttoned, collar discarded, the tiny glimpse of his chest eggs you on further, your hips moving rhythmically over the rough material of his trousers bringing yourself more pleasure than you'd like to admit.
The button on his trousers pops open easily and they're loose enough for you to palm his dick out of his boxer briefs. Loki sucks in a cheerful of air when your fingers circle him, squeezing his base a little and thumbing at his slit, oozing with pre cum. He was putty in your hands from the moment you touched him, but to undo him completely, my god would it be beautiful.
"Fuck kitten, you feel so good," He groans right into your ear, his words going straight to your core.
Loki is writhing beneath you, panting breathy moans into your ear, his hips thrusting up into your hand, using you to get himself off.
"Good boy, Father. Fuck my fist, c'mon," Loki's mouth opens wide, the sound getting stuck in his throat, "You like it when I tell you how good you're being for me?" A nod and hum are all he can muster, but you don't mind. Breaking him down to this, having him under your control with only your fist is an achievement.
His cock is red and weeping, begging for release, his mouth finding any piece of exposed skin to mark you as his, your shoulder, neck, and chest covered in deep red bruises. He's muttering constantly, begging, rattling off please into your skin.
You find his lips once more, unable to keep quiet as you bring yourself closer to release, his hand on your hip rocking you at a steady pace.
"Kitten, please. Darling, c'mon."
The priests own guttural whimpers are enough to finish you there and then. You'd give anything to have that spent look in his eyes be the only thing you see for the rest of your life, the way his face crumbles with the pleasure, the way he pants and writhes.
His pleasure is the most important thing in that moment, you want him broken beneath you spilling on your hand, completely succumbed to your touch and my god is he close.
"Fucking shit, I'm so close darling, so close. Don't stop." He begs. The six foot something, broad shouldered man succumbed to nothing by just the grip of your hand. Your grin is feral when he moans loudly into your ear, especially when he blushes for making it so disgustingly obvious what the two of you are up to, even if the church is empty.
Father Laufeyson's hips lift from the creaking bench, fucking up into your hand, using you to chase his orgasm until his chest is heaving and he's shooting rope after rope of hot cum onto your hand, forcing you to swallow his moans as he kisses you, his tongue pushing into your mouth claiming you just as much as you claim him.
You pull away when your lungs start to burn from the lack of air, his hips jerking into the few extra pumps you deliver to him, until he's wining for you to stop. You lock eyes with him, the mossy bright green even darker than they were some moments ago, a sensual haze washing over him as you bring your hand to your mouth, licking up his seed from your skin until there's nothing left.
Both your ragged breathes are the only sound in the church, the only sound that you care about. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip and you're on him in a flash, sucking his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it until he pulls it free and mutters fuck it under his breath.
Loki is on his knees in a heartbeat, his hands frantic as he undoes your jeans, pulling them off, sparing your soaked panties instead pushing them to the side. He's reckless from the first taste, eating your cunt like its his first meal in months. He's an expert, the way he nuzzles his face into you, fucking you with his tongue whilst his broad nose stimulates your clit.
Your hand is locked around your mouth, muffling the borderline screams that are near impossible to keep at bay. You're practically biting down on your skin, the lingering taste of his cum making you impossibly wetter.
He comes up for air, sucking bruises onto your thighs, his hands spreading you wider, lifting one of your legs over his bread shoulder. Loki pulls your destroyed panties down, stuffing them into your mouth to quiet your moans, leaning your hands free to roam his hair and shoulders.
"All spread open for me kitten, my god you're fucking gorgeous." He blows a strip of cold air against your wet folds, "I'm gonna ruin this cunt. Shit you're fuckin' delectable, what did I do to deserve this?"
He doesn't wait for an answer, nuzzling his head between your legs. Father Laufeyson's fingers dig into your thighs, his tongue circling your clit lightly followed by his lips closing around it, sucking with a perfect pressure that has your hips grinding onto his face.
He wastes no time, slipping two of his slim fingers into your soaked hole and you swallow him up with ease. Loki hits spots you didn't know existed with his curled digits, massaging your soft walls over and over til your legs are like jelly.
"Father, fuck, m'so close." Your voice is muffled against the wet fabric in your mouth and he reaches up to pull it free, allowing you to talk.
"Beg for it,"
Lord have fucking mercy.
"Father Laufeyson, please I need it so bad. Need to cum around your fingers, on your face. Wanna watch you eat my cunt till I cum. Father please."
He'd soon find out if hell was warm putting on such a display, here of all places and it seemed you'd be joining him, your filthy words only intensifying his actions. Your panties are back in your mouth and with good reason. He sucks on your clit as though his life depends on it, the sheer amount of pressure making for an intense orgasm. 
Your writhing on that same bench he was just moments before, creaming around his fingers that he continues to fuck into you at a such bruising pace, you're unsure if your legs will even carry you out of the booth.
"Want a special one, Kitten. Can you do that for me? Can you squirt on my face?"
You'd never done it before, not by your own accord or anyone else's yet you're still nodding at his request, each sound dampened by the lace and cotton between your teeth. You'd go to hell and back if he asked you at this point.
He reapplies that same pressure with his mouth, swirling his tongue under the head of your clit, the feeling in your lower abdomen familiar yet strange. It soon turns into an overwhelming urge to pee until he pushes you even beyond that, his fingers and tongue unforgiving, seeking what he wants no matter the repercussions.
The sensation is so intensely good and overwhelming you can't help but cry, both in frustration and pleasure. You're almost sobbing as he fucks up into your spent pussy. When Father Laufeyson looks up to see the tears on your cheeks, your eyes almost as wet as your pussy he works with no mercy, desperate to catch your release.
Two more pumps from his slender digits and flick of his sinfully skilled tongue have you gushing, your legs tensing and relaxing in spasms of pleasure. He's unrelenting as he licks up every last drop, not stopping until you're shoving him away from you, the feeling too overwhelming. His cheeks and chin glisten with your juices and he's grinning like a madman, his eyes transfixed between your weeping eyes and spent cunt. He's sure he's going to hell after that display but if this is what hell is like, he doesn't mind. Not one bit.
Loki kisses both of your cheeks, and then your lips and you taste yourself and the saltiness of your never ending stream of tears. Oh how the tables had turned, the cocky bastard that was grinning against your lips was sat exactly where you are begging for his own release, and now look at him. The cat that got the cream. He hoists you up, just enough that he can put you on his lap, straddling his half hard, clothed cock.
"You're perfect. Never tasted a pussy like yours, gonna have to keep you all myself from now on." He grinds up into you once, laughing quietly at just how sensitive you are.
"Bet none of your friends can say they've fucked a priest." He pokes. You're half way to offended by his brash words in such a sacred space until you consider your current position, him between your legs, half hard cock pressed up against your weeping pussy, in a dark confessional booth, oh and the fact you just let a priest give you head in church.
"Technically, neither can I Father." You taunt.
"Not for long, kitten."
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smolvenger · 10 months ago
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The Child Called Sharpe (Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader Blurb)
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Summary: You and Thomas Sharpe welcome your first baby and his second, as Thomas himself faces his own demons regarding his past.
Word Count: 1K (er...blurb or short oneshot, whatever)
Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy and childbirth, but nothing graphic. In this version, though I try to have a more nuanced take on Lucille, In this fic I choose to portray the Lucille/Thomas relationship as nonconsensual, pedophilic, and abusive so if you don't like that don't read this, so mentions of sexual abuse, death, illness, blood with some of the canon events of Crimson Peak. But it becomes a lot of tooth-rotting fluff.
A/N: I can't please everyone with Crimson Peak on the is Lucille good or bad vrs. is Thomas good or bad discourse, so why bother trying anymore. I just wanna write my stuff. From @holdmytesseract's request!
A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad
Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr
Love for him meant creation. It brought out Thomas’s gift of invention tenfold- for love itself was creation. For the first time in his life, an act of love brought out the child’s creation. So it was natural for Thomas to spend hours inventing more for this little child on their way.
That is, his second child. For he had a child, once, and lost that child, once. 
Yes, it was a child conceived from control rather than consent…but it was still a child in need of care. A hungry baby- a human life crying for milk, and burning with fever. A child “born wrong.” A child Enola swore to fight to keep alive. 
And a child that despite everything died anyway. As did Enola. 
Despite Lucille’s cruelty, he did pity her grief for that child- For it was his grief as well.
Lucille caught ill and died not long after. He at least made sure she died comfortably. Warm beneath blankets on a soft bed. Assured her she was loved and kissed her cheek as she took her last breath.
It was complicated, his feelings about his late sister. He never could decide one thing about her. For everything was true- there was both in her. Lucille, both cruel and misunderstood, powerful and pitiful, villain and victim.
Though he never once forced himself on anyone or took advantage of a child as she did to him…
And yet…
He was still guilty of scheming, of blood, of darkness as she was. Of the invention that he wanted to be funded, that he bought at the price of three women’s lives… 
But… assaulting him when he was little? Using his innocence until when he was grown he knew no other but her? You would tell him that even if the murders were understandable, she did cross a line in that regard.
He still didn’t know if the woman who at once was his partner, his equal, his sister as well as his jailer, his predator, his molester was deserving of it. 
Or not. 
Or both.
Yet, all of that darkness and blood was now in the past. Here you were his current wife. A wife who would never take advantage of him. A wife who listened and respected when he said “no.” A wife who wouldn’t push him. Wouldn’t manipulate him. Wouldn’t control him. A wife who forgave him and saw he was now trying to do right with his life, and his choices and would be there to support him.
 Your pregnancy was poignant.  A reminder that he had a new life now- and a life that was about to expand as your stomach did each month.  A new life was about to come forth literally and figuratively for him. 
In the corner of his workshop in a special box were toys he made once. Toys were made for the first child who died. 
He never prayed, but he did now to whoever listened. For once, those toys would know being loved, being played, and for a baby’s laughter and delight and adoration. They wouldn’t rust from age, but with use. To be worn not with dust, but with love.
He brought out the box one morning and set it in the nursery of his new house. A simpler house compared to Allerdale Hall’s Majesty. Smaller and brighter, made of cherrywood and over earth rather than clay. But cheerful, the warmth bursting in every room.
The toys were cleaned and set ready in that nursery corner. You squeezed his hand after he did so.
When making sure you were comfortable, or when you slept or napped, away he would be in his workshop. He had a special toy shop now next to the house. So in his downtime, he would be found creating little toys that a child of any sex would love. A little teddy bear that twirled on top of a drum. A little cat that lifted to lick its little paw next to a puppy that wagged its tail. 
But…what else would a baby need!? His mind was reeling. It had been too long…
Of course! A place to sleep! You had insisted the old wooden rocker would work…but he still had that itching, the gears in his mind whirring faster than any clay mine.
He took a few weeks to study the designs and then set right to work. He stayed up late, rolling up his sleeves. Working on one where if you pressed a small pedal, it would rock gently, oh so gently, as to not stir a baby to more wailing, but only to sleep.
So when he discovered that Lady Sharpe’s water broke, he insisted on staying by you.
“Thomas! But…husbands don’t..don’t usually stay!” you cried. You clutched his hand as he led you to the bed.
Lucille would urge him to leave when it was time to put a cleaver into one of the wives.
For once, he would look at the blood and the bodily innards spilling from his wife and not turn away.
He shook his head, though his hand was still in yours.
“No- My dear, all of my life, I closed my eyes and ran away. I didn’t look when things happened. Not this time- after I get the midwife, I am staying with you. I will not run away for once. I’m going to stay with my wife and keep my eyes open, no matter what I see. I love you- and for once, I am not leaving.” I will not leave you alone to deal with it now.
You grabbed him and kissed his cheek. Then he ran and fetched the midwife. He held to his word and stayed.
Labor is always long. Labor is always primal. But he waited there. Squeezing your hand, cooling your head for every painful cry and push. 
Then, after the long hours, though he was a man used to blood he turned pale… Then at last there was a cry.
The midwives smiled, bringing out a little baby in their blaket. Declaring, “It’s a girl!”
You let out a smile and then a laugh of relief. Thomas kissed your hand, then looked at her. His blue eyes brimmed with tears, but for once in his life they were happy ones.
The little girl was brought out in her blanket, needing her mother’s touch- being so new to this cold world and wanting the soft embrace of knowing she was loved now that she was here.
“Look at her…look at her- our baby! Our daughter! Oh!” you cried, a mess of crying, swear, and relief—the pain of the last several hours was forgotten for the tiny baby.
“I never could imagine it,” he agreed, he pecked her tiny forehead.
Once she had settled down, you handed her over to Thomas. The warm, living bundle in his arms. Yes, her cry was loud and bright…but it only signaled that she was alive.. He had never known such joy without confinement, without limits.
The midwives and nurses were paid and thanked. They left, but though it was a long day his Daedelian mind was eager to share his gift.
As you sat in the bed after a while, Thomas got up.
“I have a gift now. For her,” he announced.
Setting you in the wheelchair for rest, he led you to the nursery. The little girl in your arms. Inside the little pastel room there was something in the middle that was tall beneath a blanket.
Thomas walked forward and slipped the blanket off. You let out a gasp.
Beneath was the cradle Thomas made. It was stunningly beautiful- a little pedal that when he stepped on it, would make it rock. Over the bed was a music box on the side that trinkled a lullabye. Stars and a crescent moon dangled were placed to spin over the babies head where she would be placed.
You gasped, seeing how ornate it was. Every bit made with love. As you got up and placed her inside, she opened her little eyes and cooed. You made a little gasp as she took in the sight- her parents and her special gift. Music, rocking, and the stars and moon to dance above her.
To think, after all he had seen, experienced, and done…that he would come to know this moment. Here it was…and he didn’t feel worthy of it.
What when she was older? His own father was a monster. And for a while, fatherhood was linked to such things…
“I only hope I shall be a good father for that little girl…” Thomas wondered..
“You already are,” you assured him. You wrapped an arm around him and kissed him on the cheek.
That night, you were set to sleep after the exhaustion of delivery and elation of the baby. Thomas offered to be there in the nursery. For she was crying through that night, as any baby. Not that she was hungry, as he found out, she just needed warmth.
He got her out of the lovely cradle and went to the rocking chair. He wanted to hold her, feel her close. Her warmth and beating heart and life. 
His most precious creation of all…and the one that would survive. He knew she would.
“I promise you, my little love…” Thomas told the baby. “You will not know of attics. Of cold and punishments. Of plotting and murders. Of blood and cruelty…”
He kissed the top of her head.
“No- you will be Protected. Wanted…and loved.”
He would do everything so that his daughter would never have to suffer as he did.
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lulubelle814 · 5 months ago
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A Marriage of Convenience
Masterlist
Loki's father refuses to consider him to take over the company unless he marries. Eva is in a massive financial bind and about to be evicted. Could they solve each other's problems?
Part 1 - The Proposal
Part 2 - Dinner with the in-laws
Part 3 - The Nightmare
Part 4 - A Dark Turn
Part 5 - Confessions
Epilogue
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Last Updated: 2024-03-05
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Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Sir Thomas Sharpe stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
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❆ Christmas at Allerdale Hall by sserpente • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Imagine spending Christmas with Thomas Sharpe at Allerdale Hall, while the Baronet is determined to make the holiday special for you, Lucille cannot be more cross with [you for celebrating the holidays]."
❆ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by just-the-hiddles • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Your sister and children have come for the holidays to Allerdale Hall but all is not merry and bright."
❆ London Blizzard by sserpente • 〔F〕 •
Summary: "Imagine getting stuck in [London due to] a blizzard with Thomas Sharpe over Christmas."
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❆ A Special Present by ladyfluff • 〔C〕 • ♡ • 𑁍 •
❆ Chilly by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
❆ Darling, You Shouldn't Have by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
❆ Mistletoe Kiss by sserpente • 〔F〕 •
❆ Snow Day by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
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See Also: Navigation || Thomas Sharpe Master Index
Authors: @just-the-hiddles || @ladyfluff || @sserpente ||
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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years ago
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Tom Hiddleston - Watch It Burn
A/N & WC - This was utterly self indulgent and I'm not sorry whatsoever. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction. Mary is fictional. 1.4k blurb.
Warnings - Social media relationship exposal (?), smut: unprotected sex, posessive sex, 18+.
Summary - When Tom gets a call from his publicist, he's loath to do what she asks, and once it's done, it's clear to see why.
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After a long, late, languorous night, the very last thing you want is to be woken by your boyfriend Tom’s phone ringing. Again.
Why does this always happen after the most tiring nights? And why so damn early? Do Tom’s entourage not understand the concept of no calls till 10? And there’s so many: you’d think one of them has a clue. Between his agent, manager, stylist, publicist and just-in-case attorney you’d think one of them has a brain cell or a clock.
“Tommy…” you grumble, grabbing a pillow and slamming it onto your face, muffling the noise slightly.
He kisses your shoulder, “Sorry baby,” and rolls over, tugging the sheet with him, to answer. “Hello?”
The unfortunately distinguishable voice of his adenoidal publicist trills down the line. “Good morning!”
“What do you want, Mary?” he asks, his voice deep, laced with sleep. He’s just as tired as you are, though he’d never risk sounding inarticulate.
“Well that’s no way to talk to your wonderful publicist!”
You scoff, wonderful. She’s the worst one on his team, always so cheery! It’s a nightmare.
“Well you shouldn’t have woken me up then, should you?” he bites right back, only to pull a hand taut over his face. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. Late night.”
His hand rubs your bare hip beneath the duvet at this, causing you to squirm away with muffled giggle, accidentally kicking him.
“Well don’t stay up so late! It’s nine a.m, Tom, come on. You couldn’t be this flaky if you were on set at the moment.”
“I’m so close to putting the phone down right now,” he warns.
“Okay okay. I need you to post on Instagram.”
He sits bolt upright, letting the sheet fall around him, his god-like abs on full display.
“You’re joking, aren’t you? This is in jest. I’m not going back into that internet hellscape. What do you take me for?” he demands.
“Well I’m sorry Tom”—yeah, and she really sounds it: you roll your eyes—“but you’re losing traction. You need more media attention and to build up your image. The fastest, most efficient way to do that is to post on Instagram. You, the dog, the effing skyline. I literally do not care. Just post something before you become a nobody.”
You roll over indecorously in bed, hearing him heave a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. You place your hand flat on his warm, toned stomach, calming him.
“Yeah fine. I’ll do it within the next week.”
“Today or tomorrow,” she chirps with a forced, nasally brightness, “or we’ll have to stage a headline.”
He doesn’t even grace her with a reply before ending the call, his face like thunder as he flops onto the pillows with a great huff.
“You’ve gotta go back on Instagram?” you inquire, trying to keep your voice soft.
“Yeah. Good grief, I hate it. That place is malignant.”
“I know, Tommy. Maybe I can take your mind off it…” you coo.
Your hand snakes lower, fingertips dancing over his exposed, semi-hard member.
He hisses through his teeth when you clasp him in your hand, “Baby, what are you doing?”
“Distracting you.”
Your lips are on his a moment later, a mess of teeth and tongues. He yanks you into his lap unabashedly and grips your hips tight as you begin to leave marks down his neck.
He takes all his frustration out on you, both in bed and a short while later in the shower. He fucks you carnally, whispering dirty things in your ear that heat your cheeks. He lets you bite his hand and his neck when the pleasure becomes overwhelming.
And then he shampoos your hair, tenderly kissing down your spine.
This man’s facets are utterly astonishing, even after all this time.
He kisses you languid and slow while you finish off in the shower, water lashing down on both your backs as you clean the exertion off one another.
Once you turn the water off and head out, Bobby takes your place in the bathroom, pawing at Tom’s legs after patiently waiting for his walk.
He picks Bobby up and gives him a good fuss before wiping the steam off the mirror.
“Baby, do I look sexy today?”
“You always look sexy,” you tell him, “but extra sexy today. Why?”
You don’t get a response from him, but don’t think too much of it. He sometimes comes out with weird questions like these, doubting himself and his looks and abilities. You just suppose this is another one of those times and you can show him how sexy he is once he comes back into the bedroom.
Tom, however, is taking his publicist's advice about starting a media storm. Not that she said that… but her threat about one of those awful staged headlines that’ll get him in the shit again implies he needs to make a splash, and soon.
Adorable Bobby on his hip, towel tied low, phone looking tiny in his big, veined hand, heavenly abs tensed, golden-auburn hair tousled in natural curls. Yeah, he thinks to himself, I do look handsome. Sexy, even.
So, in a mood so unlike himself, he snaps a couple of pics, and after putting Bobby down and sending him out to his basket with a chew toy and a promise of a walk in a few, he flicks through and finds the only one he really likes: the one that truly shows off his Herculean, god-like stature.
Tom, however, doesn’t look too closely in order to prevent him deleting them all. And nor do you when he shows it to you.
“Christ you look good,” you whisper, hand carding through his curls and tugging. Hard.
That’s all the incentive he needs to click post after drafting whatever brief, witty caption he came up with on the walk from the bathroom.
When his phone blows up, he decides to ignore it. He’s been absent from social media for well over a year so this is to be expected. He also silences it for a few hours: texts, calls, the lot.
He just goes about his domestic life with you: cooking brunch, walking Bobby, reading, writing, dancing around the living room.
Until, a short while later, his landline phone rings. His publicist, again.
“Tom. Do you realise what you posted? Or— or, even better! Do you realise what the hell you’ve done?!” she screeches.
“Mary,” he says calmly, trying to keep all condescension from his tone, “I did what you asked. I posted, I got attention. What now?”
“Christ, okay. Clearly you’ve no clue. Open up your Instagram right now.”
You’re beside him, your face cold with panic as you fumble for your phone and pull the photo up.
Taking a closer look, your heart patters, jerks and stops. Then it begins an erratic rate a moment later. “Oh… shit.”
You show Tom and watch the palpable horror wash over him. “No. No no no no no.”
“Eloquent as ever, Tom,” she deadpans in that shrill, falsely bright tone. “Fix it on your end. I’ll get started on damage control.”
“I’m so sorry, Mary,” he bleats, “I’m deleting it now.”
She puts the phone down with a despairing sigh.
Tom’s baby blue gaze meets yours, stress broiling there like a storm.
“What have we done, baby?”
You chuckle mirthlessly as you reply, “Broken the internet.”
And you have. Because the details in the picture are impossible to construe any other way.
Handprints, big and small, on the glass of the shower; hickeys on Tom’s milky neck; actual teeth marks on the webbing of his hands, scratches from you raking your nails down his muscular chest.
You may as well have written ‘Tom had sex’ in the steamy mirror for all the obviousness it presents.
“And what the ever-loving fuck do we do?” he asks, head falling to his hands as his heart rate picks up.
Unsure of what else to do, you take his face in your hands and turn him to face you. Your eyes lock with his, and you search them for every emotion inside, layered and battling. Eventually as you hold his gaze, trust wins over... underlined by lust, and love clouding it all.
As casually as you can, you brush a kiss to his temple, his nose, his lips, and let an easy smirk overtake you. “We watch it burn.”
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sserpente · 3 years ago
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A/N: Requests from three anons. Sir Thomas Sharpe is back in time for Halloween! And he will be back for more after too. Enjoy, everyone! ;-)
Words: 2277 Warnings: fluff and smut, mentions of ghosts
“Are you quite mad? Do not look at him like that, you are a maid! Not a potential wife…” The chef shook her head. She had a habit of chiding you but how else were you supposed to look at him? Sir Thomas Sharpe was everything a woman could ask for in a man.
He was an attractive and kind gentleman, wealthy, gentle and intelligent. He never raised his voice in an argument during all those balls you had secretly watched him at all the while serving drinks in an unflattering gown.
“Sorry…” You whispered, accepting the plate filled with little appetisers she was handing you. Another night for you to keep your head down and feign respect for all those rich bastards. Sir Thomas was different—you knew he was. He said Please and Thank you and he would always make eye contact when you served him. And quite recently, his tender blue gaze would linger just a little longer. Not long enough for anyone in the room, let alone his harsh sister Lucille to notice but long enough for your heart to flutter in your chest whenever you were in his presence.
Sir Thomas Sharpe owned Allerdale Hall. You knew he lived there with his sister, working day and night to build a clay mining business to restore the old mansion. They said it was haunted and it had hence captured your attention ever since.
There wasn’t much to do as a maid. You rarely got days off and even when you did, you did not have the money to head out and experience society the way the wealthy did. Your wages sufficed for a pie at the local pub every other month or so, if anything. And so, your hobbies were of a more affordable nature—such as your fascination for ghosts.
He recognised you now. He recognised you from when you travelled all the way to Allerdale Hall by foot to explore the landscape and see for yourself if you could spot any kind of paranormal activity. He’d seen you, probably thinking you were spying or begging for food and money, prompting you to flee before he could stop you or utter a single word.
Tonight was going to be different. It was All Hallow’s Eve and the highest members of society had dressed up in fancy costumes—most of them were even wearing masks.
You were not only flustered to look him in the eye now but also scared that he would call you out. The reputation of this house would sink massively if a maid was caught spying somewhere, even if that wasn’t what you had been doing.
-
Avoiding him went surprisingly well for the first half of the evening. Thomas Sharpe was charming—everyone wanted to speak to him—not so much to his sister though, her cold eyes glaring down every woman who came near him. Perhaps she was just protective? Wanting the best possible choice for her brother when it came to marriage? You sighed, turning away before you could get caught staring again.
“Excuse me? Would you mind bringing me and my sister another glass of champagne, dear?” You froze. It was his voice. Oh no…
Stammering, you spun around, tempted to just flee. It wasn’t just recognition you saw in his warm blue eyes though. It was kindness, along with… affection?
Surely, you were hallucinating now. You had fallen head over heels for this man despite never actually having spoken to him. So how was this possible? This was your imagination. Your mind playing a trick on you, it must have been!
And the fact that he did not utter a single word about spotting you on his property made you fall for him all the more.
“O-of course… I’ll bring it to you straight away!” Hurrying away to heed his request, you took a deep breath once you were out of sight. His voice… like smooth honey and his warm and charming gaze… oh, stop! You were just a maid! There was no way this man would ever take an interest in you…
When you returned with the requested drinks, Thomas was speaking with the owner of the house.
“It’s been quite busy tonight, has it not?” He was just saying. “Surely, your maids deserve a break after all the hard work.” Thomas gave you a warm smile, making your heart skip a beat.
“They’re used to it.”
“I’m sure they are.” He turned to you. “Allow me to escort you.”
Your heart skipped a beat and while your lips parted, Lucille’s face distorted with utter dismay.
“Thomas?”
“I will be right back, Lucille.”
His smile was genuine too when he offered you his arm and led you through the crowd, through one of the side entrances into the dark garden that was eerily quiet at this time of the day.
“Sir… I appreciate the gesture but I don’t think it’s appropriate for a man of your status to be seen with a simple maid on his arm.”
“Is a maid not a beautiful woman as well? A woman who does not fear hard work?” Your lips parted once more. Had he just called you beautiful?
“Will you tell me your name?” He asked gently once you reached the calming darkness of the garden, away from curious ears and disapproving looks.
You told him, too timid to look him in the eye even if you could barely see him away from the many candles lighting up the house.
“A beautiful name. I take it you know who I am but still, allow me to introduce myself to you. I am Thomas.”
“Sir, I can’t possibly call you by your first name.”
“Please. I insist. It’s alright.” He spoke your name then, sending pleasant shivers through you. The pause that followed was peaceful—not at all uncomfortable.
“You… I saw you. What were you doing at Allerdale Hall the other day? Did you need something? Help?” Oh. Oh no. So he had wanted to wait until you were in private to confront you?
“I… I am so sorry, Sir.”
“Thomas, please.”
“T-Thomas… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t spying, I promise, I just… there aren’t a great many pleasures for a maid. I cannot afford expensive hobbies but I take… I take a huge interest in paranormal occurrences.” You confessed. “I heard Allerdale Hall is haunted and I… I wanted to see for myself.”
“Ghosts…” Thomas smiled. “There have indeed been incidents my sister and I have been unable to explain.” Another pause, your heart in your mouth when he smiled at you… almost timidly this time.
You shivered when he said your name yet again. “The truth is, I am smitten by you. I have been for quite a while. With every celebration, I would always look forward to seeing you rush around the ballroom to offer drinks and appetisers.”
Your lips parted. Were you dreaming? You had known Sir Thomas Sharpe for several months now. There was no way he would desire a maid he had never spoken to before. Well, until tonight.
“Forgive me my straightforwardness. But am I correct when I say you too stole glances at me?”
He stepped closer, noticing how the cold was beginning to take a toll on you. The darkness of the night had wrapped itself around you both like a blanket and yet, it was bitterly cold.
His gentle gaze asked for permission before he took a hold of both your upper arms and pulled you closer towards him, his face remaining only mere inches from yours.
“I want you to be mine with every fibre of my being.” He whispered. Tears were burning in your eyes upon hearing his words. You were touched, honoured and… hopelessly in love. “Come with me to Allerdale Hall.”
“No… I… Thomas… I want this. I want you, more than anything! But this isn’t right… a maid and a baronet… they will come for me. Society will banish me. What about your sister?”
“My sister… Lucille does not know. I am aware of the risks and I know that I am asking way too much of you. But if you came to Allerdale Hall as a maid… to serve us… then sooner or later we would find a way. And I would get to marry you.”
It was much. It was too much. His confession, his offer to live in a haunted place, a rich mansion of all places and to be his maid while you secretly shared a bond made of unconditional love? It was insane and yet… you found yourself nodding, allowing him to seal your plan with a tender kiss.
-
“I am going to the post office. There are letters that are in need of my signature. By the time I am back, I expect the kitchen to be all clean.”
Lucille hated you. A few weeks had gone by since Thomas had “bought” you from your previous boss and you had moved in with the Sharpes. Perhaps she suspected something. The secret glances, the coy smiles, the subtle touches.
Thomas had let you in on his most sacred and most terrifying secret—that he and Lucille had been romantically involved, that they had shared intimacy despite being related this closely. And that Lucille had been planning on using his charm to get him to marry women from wealthy families and poison them to return Allerdale Hall to its former glory.
Now thanks to you, it was as good as new. Anything you had been able to clean and tidy up, you had taken care of—and Thomas trusting you with the darkness that lay heavily over his family’s legacy made you love him all the more.
You loved visiting him in his workshop in the attic, too. It was usually late at night when Lucille would head to bed that you would sneak out of your small room and join him up there to steal kisses, touches and the most heavenly sex you could ever have imagined having.
Society would frown upon you if only they knew you had lost your virginity to a man you were not yet married to. But you would do it again. Over and over again, you would remember his hands all over your body, his sweet kisses and his lustful thrusts back in that dark garden where he asked you to become his…
You bit your lower lip, breathing out when the entrance door fell shut and you were certain that Lucille had gone. You still had some laundry to do before you could get started with the kitchen, else she would be mad the sheets were wrinkly.
Folding them up neatly, you lost yourself in your memories of Thomas above you, caressing you and worshipping your body until you suddenly heard the door of the storage room open behind you.
A pair of big hands grabbed your waist, pulling you close against a strong body. Thomas buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.
“Thomas…” You whispered, his name leaving your lips like a prayer.
“She should be gone for two hours.” He said, his fingers grabbing fistfuls of the beautiful dress he had bought you and pushing it up until he had revealed your knickers. They came off fast, along with him unbuttoning his trousers and his own underwear.
Thomas leaned against the cupboard, one of his hands wrapping around your waist, the other stroking your breasts, one at a time. His waiting erection pressed against your bare butt cheeks and when he aligned himself with your entrance, finding you wet and wanton for him, a moan escaped your lips.
“Carried away by your fantasies, my love?”
“Always…” You choked out, gasping when he pushed inside and pressed you even further against the counter. You were trapped between him and the hard piece of furniture as he rocked into you all the while whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and when his hand slid down to where your bodies had joined, his fingers finding your clit and caressing it with circular movements that had you melt in his arms, you moaned. Over and over again, with every eager and hungry thrust until the entire storage room smelled of sex and desire.
Thomas knew which buttons to press, so to speak. He was an incredibly skilled and considerate lover and he never found his release without giving you yours first. He knew you were close when you pushed against his hand, your hips moving in unison and when you came, you clenched around him rhythmically, your tight walls gripping his length so tightly the baronet couldn’t help but give in to his orgasm as well. His warm seed filled you up until it came dribbling down your inner thighs.
Thomas jerked inside of you, dragging his climax out for as long as he could before cradling you in his arms.
“Tonight.” He murmured once you had both come down from your high and you could feel him soften inside of you. “We are leaving tonight. Lucille thinks I will take a trip to London for more advanced machinery parts. But you will come with me to assist me. In reality…”
He turned you around gently so you would face him. “In reality, I am going to take you to a church to marry you. No one—not even my sister—will be able to break that bond. I found a cottage just outside of London, in the east. We will find shelter there for the night. For privacy… and our wedding night.”
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A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ♥ ko-fi.com/sserpente Big hug!
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wheredafandomat · 3 years ago
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Y/N: *tying her hair up*
Loki: *looks flustered*
Y/N: What?
Loki: *completely red*
Y/N: What? Why are you looking at me like that?
Loki: Ar- a- Are you about to do the thing?
Y/N: What thing?
Loki: The thing with your mou—
Y/N: No Loki I’m not about to do the THING!
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lady-rose-moon · 2 years ago
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Look at you, so desperate || Thomas || 18+ || Kinktober 2022 ||
Part of my Kinktober Masterlist that you can find ~here~
My main Masterlist can be found ~~here~~
Summary:
Warnings: creampie, p in v, smut, 18+ minors DNI!
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After exploring all of Allerdale Hall alone, you decided to make a trip upstairs to meet your husband in the attic. Lucille had moved out of the manor a week ago by the order of your husband. You were later told why she had left and it had taken you a couple of days to come to terms with what the two of them had been doing but you eventually came to and forgave him. He didn't want to harm you, that's why he sent Lucille away.
When you pushed open the door to the attic workshop, the scent of wood and fresh snow hit your nose and you smiled, watching as Thomas stood by an open window nursing a cup of tea. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, your head resting on his chest as you sighed happily.
"Fun day?" Thomas whispered, his head resting against yours as his eyes still scanned over the acres of land that surrounded Allerdale.
You shook your head and looked up at him with a pout on your lips. "It would be much better if you had joined me," you whispered, feeling his arms snake around your waist, "I wish you had come along."
"My many apologies, my darling," Thomas whispered tenderly, peppering kisses on your head as his arms tightened around your waist and he held you close to him, "are you lonely?"
His hoarse voice, filling with lust and need lit a fire in your body that you had pushed away since your wedding night. "Very, husband," you whispered, your hands resting on his chest as you faced him, his oceanic blues locked onto your eyes as he studied how much your body needed him, "please, I'm so lonely."
Thomas effortlessly lifted you into his arms and descended the stairs to the master bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him and throwing you onto the bed. He skillfully helped you out of your dress, kissing every bit of flesh that was exposed to him as you leaned your head back against the pillow and sighed happily.
Thomas's kisses littered across your body as he paid attention to all of you. Making sure that every little bit of you got attention. When you were fully bare for him, you smiled at him and got onto your knees, reaching forward and unbuttoning his loose shit, pulling off his suspenders and his shirt.
Once he was bare, you began to kiss his shoulder down to his clavicle, enjoying the sight of your husband sighing contentedly and shuffling to give you more access to his body. You didn't carry on for long, though, as you allowed him to lay you down on the bed and his hands began to caress down the softness of your skin.
"Beautiful," the Baronet whispered, his thumbs running over your perked nipples as you mewled beneath him. His hand descended to your glistening folds and the Baronet swore beneath his breath as two fingers plunged into the awaiting heat of your cunt.
You moaned aloud as his fingers curled inside you, stimulating your sensitive walls as he smirked down at you, his oceanic blues practically swimming with the lust he felt for you, for his wife.
"Sweet dove," his angelic voice, now laced with lust that ignited something in your stomach, "I shall make you scream."
You preened and eagerly settled your hands on his broad shoulders as he leaned down and sealed his lips to yours, his fingers leaving you but quickly returning to guide his cock into your awaiting folds. You moaned as he sunk inside you and you felt his cock twitch against your walls as he began to shallowly thrust in and out of you.
"Thomas!" you cried out as his thrusts began to increase in speed and your eyebrows pulled together as your thoughts became consumed by thoughts of him. "Fuck!" you cried out as he thrust sharply into you and you heard him moan above you.
The Baronet reached down and cupped your breast as his thrusts increased in speed, making your vision go white as you became consumed in the pleasure that you were being given from his glorious cock. You trembled as you felt the familiar tingling of your orgasm building up and your eyebrows pulled together as you gasped, your hands flying up to his hair.
Once Thomas realised that you were close to your end, he pulled out to the tip of his cock and you whined from the loss of stimulation. The man didn't wait forever, however, as he buried himself back between your folds and his speed returned, the throbbing of your orgasm returning to you as you cried out and twisted your fingers through his curls.
"Fuck, my love," he whispered, his brow becoming damp with sweat, bliss painted so perfectly over his features that you were surprised that he was human. He looked so good, he deserved to be a sculpted figure in all his naked glory so close to the edge of orgasmic release.
You tenderly caressed his cheek as his eyes opened to take you in properly, his thrusts slowly becoming out of sync as his orgasm crept closer, spurred on by every thrust of his cock into your demanding hole.
"Cum with me," you whispered, feeling the Baronet's cock twitch inside you at the sultry way you spoke.
Thomas nodded and his hand flew down to sharply circle your clit, his teeth biting down on the skin of your clavicle, bliss washing over him as he listened to you scream with pleasure and drop over the edge into ecstasy with him whining and releasing inside of you moments later.
Slowly, Thomas pulled out of you and watched the cum ooze out of your tired cunt and he pushed it back into you as his eyes met yours, a devious smirk on his lips, "none shall be wasted."
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