fics-by-caroline

[fics-by-caroline]

thank you!!!!! 🥰

Bloodlust

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Magical!Reader

Summary: You and Loki are part of the Avengers, but the pair of you have different ideas of what justice entails than the rest of the group; i.e., more horror, more drama, an eye for an eye. And man, do you two ever look sexy covered in blood.

Category: Smut (18+ only, please!)

Warnings: Smut (blood kink, oral sex – f receiving), rough sex, porn with some plot), language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, smoking, alcohol consumption, mention of human trafficking.

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, so please be nice 🥺

   Taking a drag from a cigar in the corner of the dimly-lit speakeasy, your target looked you up and down. Even without tapping into his thoughts, you could tell that he liked what he saw; how the black dress you wore hugged your figure, how you had crossed your legs in a way that allowed him to catch the red bottoms of your heels, red that was reflected in your lipstick and nails. You turned to make eye contact with him, and were immediately hit with hearing him imagine you on your knees sucking him off in one of his fancy cars and afterwards kicking you out onto the street.

   Typical, You thought with disgust, finishing your martini. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back. Feeling him get up and walk towards you, you shot a knowing look at Loki across the bar.

   “Can I buy you a drink?” The man’s voice was dripping in disgusting salaciousness. He sat beside you, reeking of the over-application of cologne, whiskey, and cigar smoke.

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[fics-by-caroline]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Magical!Reader

Summary: You and Loki are part of the Avengers, but the pair of you have different ideas of what justice entails than the rest of the group; i.e., more horror, more drama, an eye for an eye. And man, do you two ever look sexy covered in blood.

Category: Smut (18+ only, please!)

Warnings: Smut (blood kink, oral sex -- f receiving), rough sex, porn with some plot), language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, smoking, alcohol consumption, mention of human trafficking.

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, so please be nice 🥺

   Taking a drag from a cigar in the corner of the dimly-lit speakeasy, your target looked you up and down. Even without tapping into his thoughts, you could tell that he liked what he saw; how the black dress you wore hugged your figure, how you had crossed your legs in a way that allowed him to catch the red bottoms of your heels, red that was reflected in your lipstick and nails. You turned to make eye contact with him, and were immediately hit with hearing him imagine you on your knees sucking him off in one of his fancy cars and afterwards kicking you out onto the street.

   Typical, You thought with disgust, finishing your martini. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back. Feeling him get up and walk towards you, you shot a knowing look at Loki across the bar.

   “Can I buy you a drink?” The man’s voice was dripping in disgusting salaciousness. He sat beside you, reeking of the over-application of cologne, whiskey, and cigar smoke.

   You shot him a demure smile. “A dirty martini, drier than the Sahara.”

   The man waved down the bartender before leaning closer to you. “Michael Ashbourne.”

   You suppressed an eye roll, taking instead to lighting a cigarette. “I know who you are, Mr. Ashbourne.”

   “And what is it that you know of me?” Ashbourne stroked your hair with a drunken finger.

   Uncrossing your legs, you turned to face him. “That you are one of the worst Midgardian men alive today. You cheat people out of their winnings in various casinos around the world, making yourself and your friends — no doubt the ones who surrounded you in that corner over there — some of the richest men in the world, while managing to operate under the radars of your enemy governments. You sell weapons and drugs because you always want even more money on top of the billions you already have, not caring about the damage you cause. You drink the most expensive liquors, sleep with all the women you please, and leave people eating the dust in your wake. But what brings you to the epitome of disgusting actions is your engagement in the trafficking of girls, once again, for even more money.” Even though you kept your voice low, you made sure to lace every word with biting poison.

   Ashbourne pulled back in shock, unmoving and speechless.

   You smirked at his silence. “Your cunningness is almost impressive, especially for a human. You manage to remain one step ahead of the mewling mortals who are left to crawl in your fading footprints. Bravo. Unfortunately for you, however, I am not one of them.” You waved a finger, from which a small ribbon of white magic followed.

   “Who the hell are you?” Ashbourne hissed.

   “A hero in the eyes of the people you have crossed, and the villain in yours.”

   Ashbourne scoffed condescendingly. Stupid bitch, you heard him think. “Speaking in mysterious riddles just makes you look stupid, missy. I don’t know how you know what you know, but it’s a bit too much for my liking.” He raised a hand, beckoning over the large men who had accompanied him.

   You sighed, unimpressed. Before they could so much as reach for their belt, you pulled the pistol from your garter stockings and fired silenced shots in between their eyes, before holding a dagger against Ashbourne’s throat. The speakeasy froze in horrified silence.

   With a small chuckle at the sudden shock and fear in Ashbourne’s muddy eyes, you called to Loki. “Darling, are there others?”

   “No darling, not here … but we can’t have witnesses, can we?” Loki sauntered up to you, kissing you on the head. He looked around at the few bystanders in the bar, terror keeping their feet rooted in place.

   “Loki, is that really necessary —”

   You were cut off by Loki launching towards the horrified bystanders like a cat pouncing on prey, his daggers slicing through their necks gliding ease. He finished off by throwing a knife into the bartender’s skull, silencing his terrorized mind that shrieked in your own so annoyingly. Loki looked back at you with an amused glint in his eyes, blood on every surface of the speakeasy, including Loki’s own body. Gesturing around him, he noted dryly, “They were dead in seconds, no suffering.”

   You rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to Ashbourne, who sat with eyes wide and mouth agape. You smirked and applied a bit more pressure to the blade in your hand, drawing small beads of blood. You snuffed out your cigarette and stood up, toying with his bowtie as your heel dug into his foot. You could taste the fear that drenched his mind. “What’s this?” You cooed. “Feeling scared?”

   “Ah, you’re so right, my love,” Loki smiled, looking around the room at the bloody mess he created. “Not using magic is so much more fun. I missed getting my hands dirty.”

   You chuckled lowly. You couldn’t help but stare at him hungrily; there was something in the way the blood splatter stood out against his pale skin that awoke an arousal in you. Shaking your head, you turned back to the man under your knife and cocked an eyebrow. “How do you think I should do this? Stabbing is too classic, going for the neck is too neat.”

   “Unzip him, dear,” Loki hummed. He shot a bolt of green magic towards the man, binding him in glowing ropes that wrapped around his pitiful body. Noticing your dry look, he shrugged. “I want a proper view of your handiwork, and I can’t have that if I’m holding him.”

   “Fair enough,” You said. After a moment’s thought, you waved your hands, making Ashbourne’s shirt disappear in a white flash of your own magic.

   “Wait, wait, stop. What do you want? Money? I have money. What do you want?” Ashbourne pleaded.

   “I want ...” you said coldly, “to hear you scream.”

   You stepped forward and sunk your dagger into his lower abdomen, slicing upwards smoothy, careful as to not sever any major blood vessels. Ashbourne screamed in agony — music to both yours and Loki’s ears. You grinned at the blood that spurted out to meet you, and tossed the dagger onto the surface of the bar. You looked at the open mess in front of you and sunk your hand into the open cavity, making Ashbourne wail.

   Loki smacked Ashbourne’s face with a deadly glare. “Stay awake, you.”

   You reached farther into Ashbourne’s gut, quickly finding the pulsating aorta. You looked up at Ashbourne’s paling face, cheek now sporting a bloody handprint from where Loki had slapped him, and pulled on the artery, which snapped and spurted hot blood all over you. Loki released his magic binds, leaving the body of the man to collapse like a rag doll onto the floor, very much dead.

   You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as you discarded the shred of aorta in your hands onto the lifeless body. You turned to look at Loki, who was smiling back at you with a familiar, blazing fire behind his eyes. He reached over and picked up your discarded dagger from the tabletop. He looked it over once, then swiped his tongue up one side of the blade. You groaned in arousal at the sight.

   “The taste of justice, my dear,” He said, licking his lips.

   He turned his fiery gaze back on you, holding the knife out for your taking. Without breaking eye contact, you licked up the other side, the metallic taste of Ashbourne’s blood spreading through your mouth only adding to the wet ache between your legs.

   “Fucking hell,” Loki breathed, the large bulge in his dress trousers clearly evident.

   You took the dagger, swiping away the rest of the blood that stained it on your finger and licked it clean. A deep rumble escaped from Loki’s lips before he smashed his lips onto yours, your tongues trading the tastes of blood and saliva. With a sharp tug, Loki tore your dress down and pinched your nipples between his bloodied fingers as he backed you up onto the bar. While normally, he would take his time with you, tease you at a torturously slow pace, make you plead and squirm beneath him, he now was fuelled purely by an animalistic flame, his lips and teeth marking your lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, collarbones. You broke apart only for you to render the pair of you naked by way of a flick of the wrist and a flash of white light. You stared at each other, both of you breathless and admiring how the blood that drenched your clothing had stained your bodies in a beautiful pattern of death.

   “I love you so much,” You whispered.

   “I love you too,” Loki said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip lightly.

   In a flash, the momentary gentleness was gone as Loki pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them. You shouted out in pleasure, then gasped when you felt Loki’s tongue on your clit.

   “Fuck, Loki!” You hissed, throwing your head back and grinding deeper onto Loki’s fingers and tongue.

   The most audacious and obscene sounds filled the speakeasy as Loki twisted his fingers inside your cunt and attacked you with his mouth. You moaned unabashedly and Loki in return groaned against your body. His nips against your clit were anything but gentle, his fingers fucking your cunt so deeply, so gloriously, that your entire body sparked with invisible electricity.

   “You’re going to cum for me,” Loki growled, “you’re going to cum for me and make me drink it as you do.”

   You nodded into the air, gasping, panting, writhing under him. You clenched around his head, locking Loki into place, and came on his face, rolling and thrusting your hips against his mouth. Loki held your hips and drank your release until your orgasm finally finished washing over you.

  Before you could begin to catch your breath, Loki seized your neck in one large hand and pushed himself inside of you in one fluid motion, causing the both of you to moan loudly. He started moving his hips immediately at a quick and relentless pace, splitting you apart in pleasure. You reached up to wrap your arms and legs around him desperately. As he hit that sweet spot that no other could, you brought your nails down his back, no doubt drawing blood. All thoughts had disappeared from your minds, pure animalistic pleasure and arousal clearing everything else out. Your combined energy made the lights spark and flicker, furniture going flying as your grip on your magic became weaker. Loki slammed into you, your walls tight around him, his pelvis grinding in such a way that he moved against your clit. You were only barely registering how you clung onto him for dear life, the most indecent noises pouring from both of your mouths, bodies slick in blood and sweat sliding against one another. Your connection into each other’s minds let you both know that the other was just as close to their climax without speaking. Expletives punctuated your shared groans and screams, Loki’s grip on your body so tight that bruises were sure to follow, your teeth and nails marking his skin.

   “Loki, I — fuck — Loki!” You cried as you felt your body begin to tremble uncontrollably.

   “I know, I — ah! I know —!” Loki groaned, biting your neck.

   You exploded again with a scream and you slammed your hand onto the table, releasing a huge pulse of magic that levelled the room around you. Green explosions set off around you as Loki lost control and spilled into you with a stammering thrust and deep groan. Even though your eyes were both closed, you could see each other in your minds, totally blissful and exhausted, chests heaving. Loki’s lips found yours in a loving kiss.

   “We should ... we should clean up here before the others come by,” You said, still out of breath.

   Loki nodded wordlessly. He pulled out of you, causing you to whimper. We waved his hand, and the speakeasy righted itself in a glow of green light. Tables and chairs fixed themselves, light fixtures hung back up on the ceilings, blood and bodies disappeared, until the only remnant of your activities was the gore that still covered your naked bodies. You stood up and cricked your neck before cleaning yourself and Loki up, and dressing the pair of you in the dress and tuxedo you two were wearing. 

   “What will we say to the others when they ask about the sudden disappearance of everyone here?” You asked slowly.

   “Don’t worry, love,” Loki grinned, “we can tell them the truth. We’re both too valuable for them to kick us out of the group.”

   You laughed and took Loki’s outstretched arm, walking out into the cool night.

[fics-by-caroline]

Flightless Bird, American Mouth

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader

Summary: One-shot based around the song “Flightless Bird, American Mouth” by Iron & Wine. You and Tom return home after you deliver your stillborn baby.

Category: Angst

Word count: 923

Warnings: Mentions of infant death, unrelenting angst.

A/N: For @8m-w2 .

   The house was so quiet. Too quiet. Silence sucked the oxygen out of the air, hanging over you like a suffocating smog. The silence had been ceaseless since its shattering introduction by the lack of your baby’s newborn wails. The soundless image of your stillborn daughter drenched your eyes; her impossibly tiny form swaddled in a ivory baby blanket, patches of lanugo that hadn’t yet the chance to fall off on her skinny body, thin eyelids closed, developing fingernails on the ends of miniature fingers.

   You were jerked out of your reverie by Tom’s shudder from behind you. He lifted a shaking hand to wipe his eyes before laying his chin on the top of your head. You reached back to hold his cheek while the other covered his hand resting around your waist, your wedding bands glinting in the hallway light. A fat tear ran the course of Tom’s cheeks and landed on your head. Your own tears had run dry, though their memory was etched into your face by way of still-hot cheeks and heavy eyes.

   You felt your legs move underneath you, carrying you forwards without any conscious thought. They lifted you up the stairs, fingers grazing the wooden railing, breaths coming deeply. With each step, you felt the dull pain around your abdomen and between your legs throb through the pain medications with which you had been sent home. Where was I going? Your question would only be answered when you stood outside of the door to the prepared nursery, though which you could hear the soft music playing from a small speaker that you had forgotten to turn off before you left for the hospital. Tom, who had followed you in your daze, sensed your hesitation to turn the doorknob and opted to open the door himself.

   The room that once echoed of promise and excitement now smelled of death and loss. The overhead light was still on from when you and Tom had stood unmoving in the very same room, taking in the last few moments during which you existed as a family of three. Your eyes swept over the light yellow walls, the cushioned rocking chair, the small dresser, the stuffed animals that sat in the prepared crib. The song playing faded into nothingness, leaving the only sound in the room to be yours and Tom’s slow breaths. Then:

          I was a quick wet boy

          Diving too deep for coins

          All of your straight light eyes

          Wide on my plastic toys

   A choked cry tore its way from your throat as you recognized the opening words to the song that you would once sing to your daughter before she died. Your feet rooted instantly to the floor, waves of grief hammering through your heart. Your hands traveled to your abdomen, still rounded despite your empty uterus. You let out a tearful gasp as you turned to Tom, who immediately embraced you with a vice grip. His own body shook with sobs, hiccuping through his own tears which dampened your hair as they fell. 

          Then when the cops closed the fair

          I cut my long baby hair

          Stole me a dog eared map

          And called for you everywhere

   Your fists balled in Tom’s shirt as you cried. She was gone. Your beautiful baby girl was gone. Despite the doctors and nurses insisting that her death was no fault of your own, guilt nonetheless thundered in your ears. Had you done something wrong?

   “It wasn’t your fault,” Tom whispered, as if he could read your thoughts.

          Have I found you?

          Flightless bird, jealous, weeping

          Or lost you?

          American mouth

          Big bill looming

   Slowly, Tom began to transfer his weight from one foot to the other to the strum of the guitar. You didn’t fight him, instead letting yourself be carried by his gentle swaying. It was a dance of death and grief and hollowness and tears and fury and horror and agony and everything in between.

          Now I’m a fat house cat

          Cursing my sore blunt tongue

          Watching the warm poison rats

          Curl through the wide fence cracks

   “I wasn’t your fault either,” You said with conviction. 

   A fresh wall of tears vaulted into both of your eyes. You clutched each other even tighter as you continued to sway. For a moment, you could feel the ghost of your baby in your arms. The emptiness within you was palpable.

   “We never gave her a name,” You breathed.

   You felt Tom’s mouth open slightly. He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Leah?”

   You bowed your head. “Leah Jeanine. Leah Jeanine Hiddleston.”

   You looked at each other’s pain-stricken faces and nodded together. 

          Pissing on magazine photos

          Those fishing lures thrown in the cold and clean

          Blood of Christ mountain stream

          Have I found you?

          Flightless bird, brown hair bleeding

          Or lost you?

          American mouth

          Big bill, stuck going down

   You sang the words softly underneath your breath to the ghost of your daughter. You faltered on the last line, your knees giving out underneath you as you fully broke down into a whimpering mess of snot and salty tears. Tom joined you on the floor and held your body with gentle noises of comfort, still swaying to the closing music. As the song ended, you lay yourself onto the fluffy carpet on which you were standing and wrapped your body around Tom like a lifeline. You stayed like that for a long time, listening to the successive songs playing over the speaker, knowing that you were forever changed, forever broken. 

[fics-by-caroline]

Lost / Found

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: Short one-shot. You and Tom have been searching for each other for centuries after having been separated and cursed with not being able to find peace nor happiness until you find each other, your respective soulmates.

Category: Angst (?)

Word count: 556

Warnings: None.

A/N: Not my photo. This is just a short scene idea I had while listening to the soundtrack to Interstellar, in particular, the song Cornfield Chase.

“Tom!” You screamed, dress billowing behind you as you ran through the maze of paintings and sculptures of the Louvre. “Tom!”

He was here, you knew he was here. The air was so thick with his presence, your skin felt like it was on fire. He was here, he was here. Through centuries and lifetimes you two had traveled to find each other again. He was so close. And yet, the Louvre was huge.

“Tom! I’m here!” Your voice was shrill as tears started to flow down your cheeks. Your heart raced as you ran from room to room, down ornate hallways and marble stairs. 

You burst into la Grande Galérie and fell to your knees with heaving sobs in front of a grand da Vinci portrait. The desperation welling up in you was too much to bear — you could barely breathe, you couldn’t see, all you could hear was the shrieking of blood in your ears.

Suddenly, you heard a cry. Your head snapped up as you recognized the velvet caramel of the voice, a voice you could recognize anywhere, the voice of the man for whom you had been searching all these centuries.

“Y/N!” The voice cracked at its loud pitch.

You pushed yourself up from the gallery floor and took off at a sprint, blindly following Tom’s yells. 

“Tom! Tom!”

“Y/N, I’m here! I’m here!”

You felt your side stitch painfully, but you continued, your skin only burning more. You were closer. Where was he? You sped around a corner to the Daru staircase, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Tom was running down the staircase, the tails of his tuxedo flying behind him, suddenly throwing himself into a halt when he saw you.

For five seconds, the world seemed to stop on its rotation. Your mouths agape, staring at one another, broken only by a broken shriek that burst from both of your lips as you took off at a run towards each other. You collided, falling backwards in front of the Winged Victory, shared wails of relief echoing in the halls. Your chests heaved as you held each other, hands grasping at each other’s faces to verify that the other was indeed there. Tom was here. His stubble pricked your fingers, his intoxicating scent filled your nostrils, his firm hands were on your cheeks. Tears painted his face, his blue eyes wild, a vein in his forehead threatened to burst, but he was here. It was Tom. 

With only a second’s hesitation, your lips met in a frenzied kiss. It was messy and chaotic, filled with running noses and sobs. You clung to him as you fully broke down, melting into the angles of his body for the first time in close to a millennia. You felt his body shake with sobs of his own, his fingers lacing into your hair as he held you to him, not paying any attention to the cold marble stairs that dug into your backs.

“You’re here,” Tom breathed, tone disbelieving. “You’re here. You’re here. You’re here.”

“I am. And you are too,” Your own breath came in trembling heaves. “You found me.”

“You found me,” Tom repeated, before crying loudly into the shoulder of your gown, biting on the fabric to keep from screaming any more.

It was done. You were found.