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chamomileteainabuttercup · 3 years

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Dincobb Week Day 3 - New Experiences (SFW)

Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!

For today I have two pieces, an SFW and an NSFW - the NSFW is scheduled to post an hour after this one.

New Experiences

Cobb keeps on saying he’s been cold before, it gets bitter cold out in the desert at night, and Din has kept on telling him that yes, that’s cold, but it’s not ice and snow cold, and if he’s going to take him on a trip he needs Cobb to trust him about the appropriate clothing.

He does need thermals, he does need thick wool socks, he does need a heavy parka, wool cap and mittens.

“What about you?” Cobb asks. “You may be wearing thermals under your suit, but I don’t see a parka.”

“I’m used to making do without one,” says Din, “but I have higher standards for you.”

“Have ‘em for yourself too, then.”

“All right then. I will.”

“Just see that you do.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Din says, smiling inside his helmet.

“I’m the boss of everyone, they just don’t know it yet,” says Cobb with a cocky grin.

Boss or not, he’s got Din to wear a parka over his beskar, which he doesn’t altogether like to do. The shiny breastplate is for show as well as for function. A symbolic declaration of identity and values. Well, everyone can still see the helmet, and he compromised on cutting off the parka sleeves just above the elbow so his vambraces are free and functional. This is meant to be a pleasure trip, just to show Cobb a different world as a treat, but he’s still not about to go anywhere without ready access to his grappling hook, flamethrower and whistling birds. Safety first.

He lands the small ship he’s borrowed from Boba on a small, flat-topped hill overlooking a frozen lake, its edges frosted white and its heart a turquoise blue. In fact, if you’re generous with your aesthetics, the lake is sort of heart-shaped. He wonders if Cobb will notice and appreciate that. They lower the landing ramp and step outside into a brilliantly sunny day. The air out here is so cold and crisp it stings your face. Cobb actually gasps. Din gives him a few moments to walk to the bottom of the ramp, then slowly, carefully, extend one foot and put it down and feel the crunch and squish of the snow under his boot.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“It’s weird!” says Cobb enthusiastically. He sees his own breath condensing on the air and huffs out another cloud of warm mist. Then, “Ow.” He puts his mittened hand to his ear.

“You forgot to take out your earring?” Din asks.

“I was excited to see the snow,” Cobb says sheepishly. “And I love it. You gave it to me.” It’s the beskar dart tip from a whistling bird and Cobb is almost comically proud of how it looks glinting in his earlobe.

“Well, it’s gonna get real cold and I don’t want you to get frostbite. Hold still,” Din says. He pulls off his gloves, gives them to Cobb to hold and carefully removes the already chilly earring. He pulls up one of the hook-and-loop flaps of Cobb’s parka pockets, tucks the earring firmly down inside, presses it closed, then pulls Cobb’s wool cap down to cover his ears properly. “There.”

“This hat is crushing my hair,” Cobb grumps.

“A Mandalorian helmet couldn’t unpretty your hair, but you think a toque will?” Din asks, pulling his gloves back on.

“Aw, Mando, you think I’m pretty?” Cobb beams at him, more radiant than the sunshine on the snow crust.

“C’mon,” Din says, embarrassed. He does think Cobb is pretty but he has too little experience of romance to be able to say it smoothly. He grabs Cobb’s hand and pulls him along, heading down the slope towards the lake. Cobb slips and flounders and laughs. He starts to lurch forward, catches himself and throws himself backward, landing on his butt and then flopping on his back with his arms outstretched. “Come on,” says Din, with a chuckle. He reaches down and pulls Cobb up to his feet, leaving his outline in the snow.

“Hey, look at that!” says Cobb, twisting to look back. “It really takes a print, doesn’t it? Not like dry sand at all. It’s so crazy that this is water.” He scoops up a mittenful and crumbles it around.

“Try squeezing it,” says Din. Cobb squashes the snow between his palms. “See how it compacts? It’ll hold together.” He’s remembering the short period his first covert spent living someplace very like this, a little compound in the snowy woods. Unlike most covert locations, it offered both secrecy and open space for children to run and play. The snow forts they built and the snowball battles they fought were both educational for warriors in the making and tremendous fun for a motley assortment of kids in hand-me-down winter clothes and soft training helmets. The snow was the first thing that brought him out of his shell to play with the others. Up to then he had been his foster father’s shadow, dumb with sorrow, until finally the sight of them running, shouting, flinging snow had sparked his attention.

Buir had seen where he was looking as Din stood beside him holding tightly a fistful of his cape. He’d looked down at Din, his helmet impassive, nothing like his lost parents’ dark, expressive eyes and smiling, talking mouths. But there was something kind in the tilt of his head, and he gently jerked it in the direction of the romping foundlings. Buir barely spoke because his larynx had been crushed in a fight years before. Rather than speaking through the mic in his helmet, he would hold a little electrolarynx device to his throat when he really needed to speak aloud, but more often than not he used a modified sign language, finding it more convenient. That was what he told Din back then, but thinking on it now, he’s fairly sure Buir switched to relying on signing because the electrolarynx made him sound a lot like a droid, and he saw how uncomfortable that made the child he’d picked up. He didn’t need to say “Go on”; Din understood, and after hesitating a moment longer, he released his grip on the crumpled fabric and ventured out to play.

That was the day he learned to make snowballs, and it’s something he can teach Cobb now, how to press and mould the snow between cupped palms, how to roll it down the slope, picking up more and more snow as it went, turning it between the two of them to keep its shape even and rounded. It makes them both laugh just out of happiness and satisfaction. Cobb’s cheeks and nose are flushed a sweet rosy pink. His eyes are bright, their hazel colour almost gold where the sharp sunlight catches it, and he’s altogether so lovely a sight that Din is glad his face is hidden and he can stare as openly and foolishly as he wants.

Together they build a snowman where the ground flattens out; he gets an idea and labours back up the hill in the sliding snow into the ship’s hold and brings back a bucket to mould its head into a snow Mandalorian. After that success they make their way down to the lake, and after Din checks how solid the ice is, they venture out on its surface, skidding around a little. Cobb keeps grabbing hold of his hand, and although it actually makes both of them a bit less stable, Din’s happy to let him. When Din asks, “You want to try sliding?” he’s immediately game. They run and slide on foot, on knees, and on a few accidental occasions on their asses until they’re out of breath and glowing with warmth. It occurs to Din that apart from a little light Grogu-entertaining, he hasn’t really played in years. He still knows how, though. Panting and laughing, they stagger off the ice and begin making their way back up the hill, wallowing in the knee-deep snow, helping each other up by reaching down from above or by pushing from below (hands on butts). At the top they look back at their chaotic trail across the formerly perfect snowscape.

“What do you think of it now?” Din asks.

“It’s fantastic,” says Cobb. “I couldn’t have imagined what it’s really like. And there’s no one I’d rather be here with than you.” He throws his arms around Din and, to his surprise, kisses him smack-dab on the cheek of his helmet. He can’t feel it, of course, but he enjoys it symbolically, at least for a few moments until it becomes clear that Cobb’s lips are stuck to the frosty metal. He tries to pull away, gives a little muffled cry of panic and pain, and stares helplessly through the eyeslot of Din’s visor. “Hnnh!”

“Dank farrik — it’s okay, hold still. Just — okay, put your hands on the helmet, hold it, take the weight. Got it? Don’t let go or it’ll peel your lips.” He steadies it with his hands too and brings his head and shoulders down, pulling his head out of the helmet. He’s dazzled by the unfiltered bright light for a moment, then gets a proper look at Cobb, scarlet-faced and glaring with anger, confusion and embarrassment, still smooching the helmet. He has to bite his own lip hard not to laugh, but it’s not really funny, he doesn’t want Cobb to get frostbite or tear the skin off his lips. “Stay there,” he says, turns and runs up the ramp into the ship. In the tiny, cramped galley he draws a cup of lukewarm water from the tap, then rushes back, trying not to spill it. “Okay. It’s okay, just hold very still for me, got it?” Carefully, he pours water over the join between lip and metal, while Cobb breathes loud and fast through his nose. After a few moments the icy seal breaks and Cobb is able to gently, carefully peel his lips away from the helmet. They’re very red and they look like they’re sore and stinging. “You don’t look like you’re bleeding anywhere,” Din says hopefully.

Cobb cautiously runs his tongue-tip over his lips and winces. “No, but they feel raw,” he says. “Goddamn that was cold!”

“I think you’ll survive,” Din says.

“Well, sure, I’ll survive,” says Cobb. “But could you kiss ‘em better?”

It seems only fair.

#dincobweek2021 #dincobweek #dincobb week #fanfic

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lokispettigerr · 5 years

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Room 214: Tom Hiddleston x Actress!Female Reader (NSFW SMUT)

Fic Request by: @i-want-my-na-me-back I am so excited about posting the full fic and hope that it is everything you wanted it to be! Thank you so so much again, for sending your requests to my ask box. <3

Summary: Female reader is an aspiring actress. One evening after a play that he attended she approaches him to ask if he can help her with some of her lines and technique– he kindly obliges… Tom has no idea what he is agreeing to, and they are both in for a real treat. Word Count: 2593

Warnings: None???? IDK, you might die???? RIP???

A/N: Sewww, dear gods, I am scared to post this. First time writing Daddy Hiddles (sorry, I don’t refer to him as that in the fic), hope you all enjoy it! Please, with a big ol’ cherry on top of my head, leave me some of your lovely feedback. You all are so good at that!

General Taglist: @thegrandmasterschampion @njavezan @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @avenging-blackwidow @lovelyxserpent-br @kamaroon @britkane-shsl-librarian @not-made-of-glass @archy3001 @witch-loki @purplekitten30 @mad-doctor-mew@bakerstreethound @jmb959 @areschosen @little-moonbeam-666 @hiddlestoner3059 @bingewatchingmylifegoby @fkngparadise @lucywindigo @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @chocolatealmondmilkk @mellowgirl01 @fyeahlitaajpunk @drakesfiance @wicked-starlight-collector @kenzieam @nothungry4humanflesh @huiflavor @sherlocksuperfan666 @confessionsofastrugglingteen @joseyslo @ms-munchkin

Taglist: @skulliebythesea @saintwiz @joyofbebbanburg @lokislilslut @loki978 @brokenthelovely @thecollegefangirl95 @disneyland02 @babygirlicecream @shockwavee

“Excuse me, Tom Hiddleston” my index and middle finger tapped his broad shoulder, and he turned from his conversation to see who had called out his name.

“Hi, yeah, I was wondering if maybe you would give me a few acting pointers...I’m Y/N.” I held my hand out to him, and he took it to shake. His hand felt so good clasping my own, it dwarfed mine and was unusually rough with a shiny, white scar at the webbing between his index finger and thumb. For a moment, it appeared as if recognition flashed through his eyes… Did Tom remember me? We were often crossing paths in one way or another as we were both deeply involved and supportive of the acting world. We had many mutual friends, and I often caught a gaze from his mystic eyes from across the room at galas or parties, but we had never really had many close interactions.

“Uh, yeah, I think we can manage something like that.” he responded, still holding my hand. “What do you say I finish up here and we meet upstairs, rehearsal room 214 in an hour?” he winked, his head tilted towards me to hear my answer over the crowd of people talking.

“Perfect!” I exclaimed excitedly, “See you”, I turned on my heel, my hips swaying as I walked away. I glanced over my shoulder at Tom thinking to see his muscled back towards me, but instead he was watching me intently as I walked away, talking to someone half-heartedly.

Knowing he was watching me made my pulse jump, and it took my full concentration to continue walking behind the curtain and down the steep steps of the stage.

My heels clicked as I walked back to my locker to riffle through my purse hoping to freshen up before meeting with Tom and review my script. Luckily, I found a quiet, private corner in the building, tucked underneath a wooden stairwell. My concentration was all wonky because Tom kept interrupting my thoughts. My mind went back to the way he held my hand, the way his penetrating gaze looked not just at me, but through me, and the way he had watched me intently as I had walked off the stage and back behind the curtain. I would read my lines all the way through the first page not, remembering anything, and have to begin again.

I glanced at my pink and gold watch, and jolted up from the corner. It had been an hour and I was supposed to meet Tom upstairs!

I grabbed my bag and script hurriedly, and took the stairs two at a time, dashing up them, a huge feat in heels. I rounded the corner and barreled into Tom standing in front of the door to the rehearsal room.

“Whoa, are you alright there?” he grabbed my arms, steadying me like the gentleman he was, his eyes showing his concern for me, a small, shy smile on his lips.

I huffed, trying to slow my breathing, “Yeah, ah, sorry, I was just trying to make it up here, the time got away from me”.

He chuckled, amused and released my arms, squeezing them before letting go.

“Alright then, let’s get to it”, he turned opening the door and stood holding it for me, ushering me into the room warmly.

I nodded once in thanks, not making eye contact, a blush on my cheeks from both the run and my embarrassment.

“May I take a peek at your lines?” He asked me, holding out his fingers.

“Yes, yes, of course, sorry sorry” I said quickly, my hand dashed into my bag, and my fingers closed around the folded, thick script.

His smile never faded, and he constantly appeared to be on the verge of laughter. Sensing my embarrassment he kept it to himself, but his eyes continued to smile, even as he read.

His glasses would fall intermittently, and his long, middle finger would dart up to slide them up his pointed nose, and every now and then an “Mmm” would escape his lips as he nodded slowly.

“This is a great part, really, you’re lucky to have it”, he said as he handed me back the script.

“What seems to be the problem you are having?” he crossed his arms, his brows furrowing as he waited for my response.

“Well” I gulped, nervously, looking down at the paper, “I am just really having trouble portraying romance to the audience through my character”.

Tom nodded, empathy etched on his face.

“I know I shouldn’t have trouble,” I continued, “but this is actually my first time acting romantically with someone, and I am finding it to be rather difficult”.

“That is completely understandable,” he pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked down searching his thoughts, “have you kissed them yet?” he continued, quickly, not taking a pause, “sometimes that helps you relax a little bit”.

“Not yet.” I smiled sheepishly.

“May I?” he asked, not waiting for my answer.

I had barely the chance to nod when Tom grabbed my face, passionately planting a kiss on my lips. Tom’s long fingers perfectly cupped the back of my neck as he drew me in. His sculpted nose was pressed into my cheek, and my breasts were against his chest.

The script slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a sharp clack, but Tom didn’t pull away, instead he deepened the kiss and my head began to swim. I was high from his close proximity.

My hand traveled up his rigid abdomen, my knuckles scraping against his chest and he hummed, deep blue silk against my swollen lips. My fingers kept their exploration towards his hair, burying themselves there, twisting the soft, silky tendrils between my fingers.

As our heads moved, to a love song that only we heard, his tongue parted my lips and he breathed me in as I sighed, his tongue exploring its new territory.

His hand traveled from its perch at the back of my neck down to my heaving breasts and he began to squeeze me, my womb twitching and tingling with each touch, my nipples tightening through my bra.

“Tom”, I mumbled against his petal lips.

“Mmm?” he didn’t stop, only deepened his kiss.

“I think—” I couldn’t think though, I was lying, “I think, we need” smooch, smooch, “…to stop”.

Tom’s lips left mine, leaving mine flush and swollen, yearning for his kisses against them again.

“Right” he replied, shortly, smoothing his hair, briskly, then reaching his hand out to smooth mine, but dropping it. Tom eyes lowered, shifting back and forth, searching his thoughts, “Its strange, Y/N, but I have been watching you for sometime now. I find myself searching for you in a crowd, wherever I go…” His eyes returned to my face, and I could see how much my presence grounded him, “Have you not felt my eyes on you from across the room when we are with our friends?” He watched me, expectantly, his eyes glistening. In truth, I had felt him watching me.

I bent down, reaching for the script that had fallen to the floor, but Tom’s hand got to it first, his fingers hitting mine, jolting them, electricity surging through us. My eyes trailed slowly up Tom’s body, finally meeting his gaze, “I have been watching you too, Tom”.

He rubbed his lips, pleased with himself, trying to hide a smile. “Erm, what’s next now then?”

The pages fluttered as he pulled the script towards him.

“I um, have to take my clothes off in front of the audience, do you uh, have any pointers for that, Tom?”

He cleared his throat loudly, his long middle finger shifting his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Erm, yeah, I do.” he replied, calmly, his eyes giving nothing away.

“I think it helps to have a song in your head that calms you, or perhaps, erm just a scene that soothes you, and remember it isn’t you on the stage” he paused, “no, not really, it is the person you are playing.” his eyes were searching the floor,and his arms were crossed.

“Now, try it out then, if you’re comfortable”. He strode to a chair behind him, pulling it towards me, sitting in it, his legs in opposition to one another, his hands resting on the tops of his thighs.

Gods, he looked delicious, like a god sitting there in all his golden splendor. He was practically glowing in front of me. Why did he have to sit like that??

I looked down, unbuttoning my fitted blouse, feeling self-conscious.

“No,” he rumbled, “look at me”.

My eyes slowly, slowly rose, and I continued to unbutton my shirt, my fingers fumbling with the tight buttons. When it was free, I straightened my arms and the shirt slid down my bare skin, falling to the floor.

“Keep going?” I asked, unsure.

“Keep going” he echoed. His slender hand, moved slightly, from resting on his leg to cover his pant zipper.

I shimmied my hips, removing my skirt and it fell to the floor joining my forsaken blouse.

Tom’s eyes were my captive audience, ever watchful, hypnotized even-- studying each curve my body possessed.

Without me realizing it, I was walking towards him, quickly, my feet gliding across the floor, my breasts bouncing.

He had expected this and his hands reached for me, and I sat down straddling his legs, my breasts coming towards his face-- close enough for him to bury his face in them.

His aquamarine eyes trailed down my body, mesmerized, and his hands rested at the apex of my wide hips. His fingers groping gently at my ass. Without thinking, I unzipped his pants. My fingers pushed through the flimsy opening, as the teeth of the zipper bit at my skin, trying to stop their covetousness. He was completely erect, his dick throbbing between my soft, cold fingers. He watched my hand, his eyes wide with wonder. I grabbed him behind his neck, lacing my fingers in his curls, and pulled his face towards my own, my lips invoking passion within us. Energy was rising. Our hearts were beating together in our erotic excitement, and his hand went from my hip, down to his pants, moving them out of the way to free his confined, hard length. It came close to reaching my navel, and was dripping slightly with a warm, wet trickle. I placed my thumb on the head of it and rubbed the liquid around, trailing slippery circles on the tip.

Tom’s breathing was ragged, and he watched my face as I traced the circles, swirling my thumb around and around. In his arousal, he would shift his hips, pressing his dick into my fingers.

My fingers closed around his shaft, and I moved up off his lap, so his entirety could enter me.

“Wait, Y/N.” he rasped, finding it hard to stop. “Yes?” I wondered what he wanted… Did he not want me? Were we really only working on acting right now? It seemed all so real, this had to be real, right? It was all just Tom acting?

“Do you want me to stop? Do you not want me?” The words poured from my mouth, and I felt a flush rising to my cheeks. My eyes burned as I held back tears of rejection, my throat swelling painfully from the effort.

“No, no, can I just,” he trailed off, taking his length and instead of sliding it deep within me he placed the tip on my sensitive bundle of nerves.

I gasped from the pleasure shooting through my hips, and jerked back. My eyes going wide. “Oh, yes, ooo,” he said, swirling the tip around in tight circles.

My opening was so wet, the liquid began to coat my lips.

While he rubbed his tip on my clit, his length became more rigid and grew, and it poked into me painfully. In anticipation of this, Tom guided my hips back further-- up higher to allow for the extra growth. Without warning, he pushed into me. His large cock catching on my wet walls, my lips pulling with him as he edged deeper and deeper within me.

“Oh, Tom.” I whispered, my lips grazing his ear. I began to pump my body up and down, my head falling back, hair swaying as I moved.

Tom continued to hold me, his hands helping guide my hips up and down on his shaft. My juices could be heard as they soaked and coated him, making a “slurping, slapping” sound as I repeatedly took him within. He was so big that his head rammed into the solid wall of my cervix and I cried out, my mouth opening, and my brows knitting on the brink of pain and pleasure. He ignored any pain though and continued to push into my end, but I didn’t want him to stop. “The way you look,” he bit his lip, “god, you feel so completely tight, how could you possibly be this tight?”

I smirked, gently removing his glasses, placing them to the side.

He glanced down at my heaving breasts, his hands moving up my hips to cup and massage them. “Look, at these breasts”, he breathed, closing his eyes, “Ah, shit. I’m close, ahhh, so close, unghh.” I reached down to rub my swollen clit, blood pulsing behind it. “Oooo” I cried out, as his length deepened, he pushed his hips up. His cock pushing, pushing. “That’s right, Y/N, touch yourself for me, you look so sexy.” He couldn’t control himself any longer, and began fucking me hard and fast, panting, his hair falling loose, and spreading around his face. “Ooof, ooh, so close” he grunted out, “so close, oh, I’m cumming, I’m cumming” he said, quickly, not breaking between words. He let out a growl as his seed squirted into me, he was so deep I could feel the hot liquid gush against the opening of my cervix. I came then, feeling his heat mingling with my own. My head shooting back, my jaw slackening as I cried out, hopelessly, uncontrollably coming undone for him.

We continued to sit with me in his lap, straddling his legs.

I cradled his head in my arms, pulling his cheek to my breast, my chin resting on the top of his head. He smelled like vanilla and leather and the smell left me feeling relaxed and slightly dazed.

All too soon, he was lifting my hips, easily, and sliding out of me.

We both stood and dressed. “I have to go, Y/N. But I want to keep seeing you-- I have to keep seeing you.” he said, pulling his pants back up and zipping them.

I nodded, “Me too” I agreed, my finger rubbing my full lips, thoughtfully. He smiled, “tomorrow then darling, meet me at the Tea House on the corner of Main and 9th”. “It’s a date!” I beamed at him, grabbing my bag to head out of Room 214. As I turned the corner, Tom called to me, his voice muffled through the walls, coming closer, “Y/N?” I stopped, turning to find Tom’s arms closing around me in a warm embrace. He hugged me, rocking us back and forth, his face buried in my hair. “Tomorrow then…” he murmured into my hair, then let go. I walked away my skin tingling from his apparent adoration and intimacy, and with butterflies in my stomach.

BONUS: How I imagined him sitting watching you undress.

Hope you all enjoyed! Crossing my fingers for it anyway! If you liked this fic please think about giving me a follow and hopefully a reblog and/or response. ***I am always here for you if you need, send me an ask with a request of what you would like to read next, any ideas you have with a current story, what you wanna hear more of, or any questions or comments. I can assure you, I LOVE IT! ****If you would like to be on the general taglist OR the taglist for this fic please leave me an ask in my ask box. I will make it happen and would be happy to do it! You all make me so very happy!

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Peace,

Loki’s Pet Tiger

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