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writingfics-passingtime · 16 days ago

Text

Empty Threats

synopsis: stranded in a one-room safe house overnight with Loki, you learn the consequences of teasing him.

pairing: Loki x female reader (sexual / romantic)

word count: ~6700

cw: swearing, tickling, making out, closed-door sex, innuendo and other sexually-charged exchanges, light bondage (with magic), less romance more fwb vibe? you be the judge

minors dni: this fic does not contain smut, but does contain steamy moments and closed-door sex between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: horniest I'll ever be on main. future smut will be posted on nevermath.tumblr.com

The escape craft was some older thing. Ancient and rickety, by SHIELD standards. Definitely not built for an ice-storm.

You can't remember the last time you felt so unsafe in the air - and that included a handful of situations involving heat-seeking missiles, plummeting free-falls, and one especially memorable brush with a Chitauri cannon.

The turbulence knocks the controls hard to the left, you wrestle them back with a grunt, jaw tight, adrenaline burning under your skin. A flick of your eyes towards your passenger seat makes your blood pressure spike for an entirely different reason.

Loki looks bored.

Actually... worse; he looks vaguely amused.

He's lounging, one leg crossed over the other, hands steepled in his lap. Not a single hair out of place, nor muscle braced. Whether that means he trusts you to fly safely out of this storm, or simply doesn't care whether the damn thing goes down in flames, you're not sure. You don't ask.

You don't want the answer.

So when the radar pings a safe-house just a hundred clicks off-course, you make a hard turn toward it with zero apology.

The landing is rough. Metal groans as the craft slams down on a barely-visible patch of ice-washed earth. But she holds. Barely.

You unbuckle fast, tossing Loki a look over your shoulder. "Hope your highness can handle a night in a little mountain shack."

His brow raises. His smirk is slow, knowing.

You don't give him the satisfaction of looking flustered. You just shove the hatch open and duck out into the freezing sleet with a scoff.

You'd never usually leave a craft in the open like this, but the visibility is shit and the airspace is fucked; no one will be flying overhead - not even the combatants that'd been pursuing you fifty-odd clicks back.

The safe-house cabin appears like a ghost out of the storm, flickering through thick sheets of sideways rain. You reach the door, slap your hand on the bio scanner, and hear the click of the lock just as Loki falls into step and you both slip out of the weather.

The door shuts with a solid thud - and for the first time in hours, silence rings.

Peace. Safety.

Both of you stand still, breathing hard. You're not sure if it's the cold or the tension. Maybe both.

But it’s tranquil in here. Nice, even. Far from a little mountain shack.

You step further in, the dim lights automatically fading on, and you glance at the windows, which seem to be holding tight against the icy rain lashing against them. Wind howls through the trees and scratches at the glass like a leopard's claws, but the place seems solid.

No sooner had you stepped in further did thunder crack so close it felt like the gods were arguing just over the mountain-

Wait...

"That's not your brother, is it?" You look at Loki over your shoulder, half-joking.

"No," Loki's low, rich voice chuckles behind you. "Not nearly dramatic enough."

You're almost soaked-through from the dash, a chill threatening to settle into your bones, but you notice that, though isolated, the safe-house isn't freezing. The lights are low and warm, casting the room in comforting haze. It feels luxurious; hardwood floors, thick rugs, a fireplace in the centre of the wall, opposite to the kingsized bed draped in earth-coloured linens and furs and- wait. Fuck.

Bed. Singular.

You look around and quickly confirm the sheepish feeling sinking into you. This is a studio. Designed for one. Or for a couple.

Who... the fuck decided that only one bed was appropriate for safe house?

Instead of making it a big deal, you declare, "I'm going to shower to warm up."

Loki looks to the stone mantle and says "I'll make a fire."

But as soon as the word fire leaves his lips, the empty cavity hisses to life, flames beginning to spark and build. You bite your lip as Loki scowls.

"Spooky," you tease, twirling your finger to the ceiling. "The cabin must be haunted by helpful ghosts."

Loki swings that scowl on you, but softens it. "We do also have technology on Asgard, you smug little goblin."

You smirk and turn on your heel. "You keep calling me things like that and I'm gonna think you’re flirting."

"I am," he calls after you.

You don't dignify it with a reply. You also don't stop smiling as you close the bathroom door.

The bathroom, and the shower itself, match the quiet wealth of the rest of the place. Such a shame, you think as you let your shoulders ease under the spray, that this place must be empty most of the time. It's exactly the kind of place you can imagine yourself... being. Just relaxing, letting go. Preferably alone, considering the one-bed situation.

Your stomach pings in a cluster of nerves as you lather the fig and sandalwood suds over your skin, trying to scrub the tension from your shoulders - tension that, annoyingly, has less to do with the mission and more to do with the god in the other room.

Loki is… a menace. Not just in the field. Not just in battle. But here. In the quiet. In the glances. In the way he looks at you like he’s already peeled your thoughts apart and likes what he sees.

The bed is big, and it's not like you'd mind sharing it with Loki - you'd known since the first time you worked with the God of Mischief that you'd likely fall into bed together at some point or another - but this... it feels forced. Like two dolls some child is guiding into a kiss.

Soon you're standing in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth, wiping a path through the fog on the glass to look yourself in the eye and coach yourself mentally, as if you were a child: just because you're under the same covers does not mean you will have sex with him.

You feel your cheeks warm as you realise that Loki probably isn't thinking about any of this. At all. Even though he makes no efforts to hide his physical attraction to you, that doesn't mean he's... wanting, in the same way you are.

Besides, he's your mission partner. Your headache. Your shadow in the field. The beautiful thorn in your side when you're not under fire. Taking it further could make it messy.

You throw on some standard-issue lounge clothes; socks, underwear, sweat shorts, tank top, and a cloud-soft sweatshirt, all found in the bathroom's linen cupboard that must contain at least two dozen different size options.

When you walk back into the main area, the warmth instantly seeps into your skin like a gentle summer evening. One deep breath, and you've eased further.

Loki looks up from the couch where he's lounged with his head against the headrest, hands folded over his stomach. He's still in his tac gear.

"There's a change of clothes in there," you nod to the bathroom.

Loki's eyebrow lifts. In a slow pulse of green, his clothes change into a softer, yet seemingly still tailored, all-black set that covers his limbs entirely. It looks too good for something summoned out of spite. "Over my dead body," his eyes rake over you, critical on the surface, heated underneath.

With a roll of your eyes you make your way to the bed. "I'm tired," you say, seeing it in his eyelids. "Ready to sleep?"

"I'll tend to my needs and then take my rest here." He stands and heads towards the bathroom.

"Loki," you put a little casual laugh in your voice. He stops and turns his head. "The bed's huge. We can share it."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, and you're worried you've fucked it. That you've been presumptuous. That he's going to say something about how he'd rather die than share sheets with the likes of-

"Very well," he tilts his head in agreement, barely looking at you before he closes the bathroom door.

Internally, you're screaming. Outwardly, you're pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes, wondering if there was any possible way you could've made it more awkward.

You hear the shower spray and try to think about anything other than him in here.

Whatever. Whatever. You take a breath through your nose and slip under the sheets. The lights are still dim. You narrow your eyes, and test the cabin, saying "it's time to sleep."

The lights dim to nothing, the fire pulls back from roaring to gently crackling, creating a cozy atmosphere that's calling you to sleep. But the second you settle in, you get that sinking gut feeling that sleep isn't going to come easy. Your limbs are tired, your eyelids heavy, but your mind is still buzzing with adrenaline.

You're staring at the ceiling when Loki reenters, crosses the room, and slides into the sheets on the other side of the bed. And sure, the bed is big, but he's still less than an arm's length away. You didn't realise how close you'd feel until he was there.

"Sweet dreams," you say with a subtle teasing lilt to try and disguise your nerves, eyes still on the ceiling, fingers playing with the hem of your sweatshirt.

You hear his head turn to look at you. Hear a small, faintly amused puff of air through his nose. "Try not to dream about me too vividly. I don’t want to wake to you whimpering." He turns, back to you, and settles in.

You bite your lip, the heat returning tenfold, but you chuckle. “Who's the smug little goblin now."

In an effort to get the adrenaline out, to help your mind complete whatever it feels it needs to, you start replaying the mission in your head. Every bullet, every chase, every snarky little jab Loki threw at you in that seductive voice, every- ... oh shit.

You almost forgot.

You press your smiling lips together, suppressing the giggle threatening to betray you. But it slips out anyway - a little puff of laughter in the dark.

That moment. The one that sent you over the edge.

Loki shifts beside you. "Don’t start," he warns. His words are a blade being drawn from its sheath.

“I didn’t say anything," you retort, now openly grinning at the ceiling.

"You thought it," he snips. He knows exactly what you're thinking about and hates it already.

You roll onto your side to face him, arm tucked under your head. "I'm just remembering a moment from today. A glorious one."

He exhales through his nose. "You truly have a death wish."

You grin wider. "You ate shit so hard on that slippery boulder."

The silence between you stretches like wire. Taut. Dangerous.

You keep going anyway.

"One second you’re monologuing, all broody Asgardian menace - 'You dare challenge me?' - and the next? Boom. Legs in the air. Splashdown."

You can feel the heat rising from his side of the bed. His magic pulses just faintly through the room. Static before a lightning strike.

"If you were wise you'd shut your mouth," he says darkly, "before I'm forced to shut it for you."

You laugh again - quieter this time, taunting. "Oh yeah? What’s the plan - another lecture about respect?" You prop yourself up on an elbow, searching the air for more sass. "Or... just another bout of empty threats and semi-inappropriate workplace banter?"

Loki turns. Slowly. He shifts to mirror you - rising on one elbow, lifting his face so you can see him in the flicker of firelight.

And fuck... he looks dangerous like this. Hot and dangerous. Hair damp and curling at the ends, shadows cutting beneath his cheekbones, pale blue eyes locked on you like you’re something he’s actively backing into a corner.

He tilts his head, and, with a devastating sweetness, he says, slowly, "Tease me again, and I’ll put you on your back and tickle you until you sob."

You blink. "Huh-what?"

Loki leans in just slightly - close enough that his breath ghosts over your mouth. "You heard me. One more snide little comment and I'll have you writhing. I will take my time. And you will not know mercy."

Your brain flatlines. Your mouth parts. You should say something sharp - should snap back, keep the banter going - but your body betrays you with a single thud of heat low in your stomach.

He sees it.

Of course he fucking sees it.

Loki's eyes narrow and you know - you know he’s cataloging every flinch, every breath. "It's the perfect punishment, wouldn't you agree?" he continues softly, dangerously. "Intimate, humiliating… leaves no mark. You won’t run to your beloved Captain Rogers with bruises. Just memories you can’t scrub off."

Your throat’s dry. You manage a single nervous chuckle. "You wouldn’t."

He smirks like the mischief he is. "We both know I would."

You go quiet.

Dead quiet.

Because the worst part is, you don't know whether you want him to or not.

And Loki - bastard that he is - sees that, too. He leans back slowly, satisfaction dripping from every hard line of his body as he settles into the pillow again.

You lie there, heart pounding, every nerve on fire. The storm still rages outside, but now it's got competition.

Loki chuckles deep and low, and it feels like thunder cracking beneath your skin.

"Wise choice," he murmurs.

And fuck, you hate him.

You hate him.

Well... no.

You don't hate him.

And you hate that you don't hate him.

You shift under the covers, giving an exaggerated sigh as you turn away from him. "Jeez. You're so fucking dramatic," you mutter under your breath.

A mistake.

"Oh, you poor little fool."

A catastrophic mistake.

Before you can even suck in another breath, his magic crackles through the air. It's an electric, humming snap that raises the fine hairs on your arms a second before you feel it.

The pillowcase under your head moves. It slides off the cushion with a treacherous slither, wrapping itself around your wrists with a speed and precision that makes your stomach drop. You jerk instinctively, but it's too late - your hands are caught, ensnared, pinned above your head, wrists bound together tight enough to be secure but loose enough to tell you this is a game.

His game.

You barely manage a grunt of protest before Loki’s hands are on you - turning you onto your back in a fluid, almost lazy motion, like he’s not even trying. His fingers are wickedly strong around your waist, holding you down just long enough for him to shift, knee pressing between your legs, swinging himself up until he straddles your hips.

You struggle, wild and panicked, kicking your legs and jerking your torso, but you’re half-covered in blankets and utterly unprepared for a fight - in soft sleepwear, no armour - and he’s bigger, heavier, faster, magical.

You buck hard, trying to dislodge him, but all it earns you is a low, infuriating chuckle from above.

"Is this truly the best you can fight?" he purrs, tightening his grip just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

"Fuck you," you scowl, jerking your hands against the bonds.

"Rude." He tsks, smirking down at you, his hips pinning yours to the bed with effortless control. "And after I warned you so nicely."

You twist again, but it's useless. You’re stuck. Fully at his mercy.

And the worst part?

You can feel the slow, deliberate shift of his body against yours - his thigh pressing against your bare skin, the long line of him caging you in - and it sparks heat low in your gut that has nothing to do with rage.

"You can’t seriously - Loki, come on," you start, trying to wriggle your wrists free, but the enchanted fabric tightens at his will, dragging a frustrated, helpless sound from your throat. "This is stupid and dramatic. You proved your point, now let me go."

He just tilts his head, studying you like a cat might study a bird fluttering with a broken wing.

"Tell me," he murmurs, voice dangerously low as he settles further, "did you really think that would go unpunished?"

His hands start inching forward.

You glare. "I really think you’re a dickhead."

His eyes gleam, a spark of delight dancing at the edges. "Mm. Defiant. I expected nothing less."

His fingers descend like vipers, darting straight for your sides, and the second they make contact... fuck.

You jerk so violently the bed frame gives a protesting creak.

You arch instinctively, breath hitching, but you refuse to laugh. Refused to give him the satisfaction.

"Nothing?" he muses, leaning closer, eyes flaring in delight. "Oh, you’re going to be so fun."

You twist under him, trying to wriggle free. The pillowcase tightens slightly in response. You grit your teeth as he drags his fingers up and down your ribs with merciless precision.

You hold on, digging your heels into the mattress, biting your bottom lip hard. His touch is devastating. Too practiced. Light one moment, firm the next, zeroing in on your most sensitive spots with surgical precision.

And still, you don't laugh.

Until-

"Ah," Loki says softly. His fingers found it - a spot just beneath your left rib, sensitive as hell, one you hadn’t even known would betray you.

Your body jolts. A tiny gasp escapes your throat. Then, like a damn cracking, a laugh punches from your lungs.

Triumphant, Loki’s smirk deepens - not cruel, not quite - something darker, warmer. Endeared, even. And utterly smug.

"There it is," he whispers, tilting his head. "I knew you’d be a screamer."

You flush, full-body and furious. "I hate you," you huff through gritted teeth, breath coming fast.

He clicks his tongue. "Then you’ll loathe what comes next."

And then he really begins.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You burst with laughter, loud and sharp, your body trembling wildly beneath his tickling hands.

And gods, he’s good at it - depravedly good. His fingers dance, spider-light one moment, then digging mercilessly the next, zeroing in on every little vulnerable spot like he’s been studying you for months.

Which he probably has, the bastard.

You shriek again, trying to twist away, but his weight on your hips keeps you absolutely pinned.

"You should’ve held your tongue," Loki drawls, his voice maddeningly calm over your frantic squirming. His voice drops. "Gods, you’re responsive."

"I swear I'm gonna get you for this- SHIT!" you gasp out between bursts of helpless, writhing laughter, but the threats fall flat - your voice breaking with each choked, humiliating giggle he wrings from you.

"You’re welcome to try," he murmurs, dragging one hand from your side up under your sweatshirt to your underarm, circling lightly where the skin’s thinnest, most sensitive.

You convulse so hard under him you nearly tip him sideways, but Loki handles it easily, smirking like this is all beneath him - like your thrashing and desperate yelps are just entertainment.

He skims the pads of his fingers lightly over your stomach, watching with lazy amusement as you shudder uncontrollably.

You kick your legs, trying to knee him, but he just rides out the bucking like he’s enjoying it, settling heavier against you with a rough grind of his hips that makes your brain white out for a second - makes you way too aware of how warm he is. How solid.

"You are such a dick," you gasp, breathless.

"No," he grins. "I’m your reckoning."

You whimper - actually whimper - as he attacks your sides again, fast and brutal, forcing desperate laughter out of you until you’re gasping between giggles, your whole body arching and twisting under him.

Loki only hums thoughtfully, shifting his weight slightly so his hips press more firmly against yours - deliberately - and the new friction is a whole fresh hell you’re not prepared for.

Heat spikes through you, brutal and wanted, mixing with the overwhelming sensation of his hands tormenting your skin.

He sees it.

Of course he fucking sees everything.

And the bastard has the audacity to smile wider. Slow, wolfish, knowing. His fingers skitter up your sides again, sending you into another fit of helpless, humiliating giggles.

"Fuck! This is so messed up-"

"You could have avoided this," he drawls, utterly unbothered. "All you had to do was keep that clever little mouth shut."

You grit your teeth, trying to focus. "This- this is petty. This is some villain-ass shit. No wonder Thor used to kick your ass when you were younger."

"Oh?" he says, digging his fingers against the fabric covering the soft space under your arms, dragging a laugh straight from your lungs. "You want to talk about childhood trauma now? In the middle of this? How very Avenger of you."

You throw your head back and laugh through gritted teeth, managing a whiny: "I really hate you."

He laughs. "You wish." His hands dive back to your sides.

"I wait- Loki- okay please!" you gasp, twisting hard, but the pillowcase tightens again, holding your wrists captive.

"Oh, now you beg?" Loki teases, fingers squeezing at your waist until your whole body bucks. "Where was this charming submission before?"

You shake your head wildly, laughing so hard your ribs hurt, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Every time you think he’s about to let up, he switches tactics - light teasing along your stomach, a wicked squeeze at your hips, brutal tickling up your ribs again until you’re choking on helpless giggles.

He finds the hollow just above your hip bone and presses - firm and slow.

You squeal. Actually squeal.

He grins wider.

"Oh, you sweet thing," he purrs. "I could do this all night."

You swear at him in every language you know.

He just chuckles darkly, slow and satisfied, like he’s feasting on your misery.

"Say you’re sorry."

You growl through clenched teeth, body trembling from the effort to wrench free.

"Never."

He pauses. Cocks a brow.

Then he leans down. Slowly. Until his nose brushes yours.

You take a shuddering breath in, still panting, now caught in a frantic freeze state. Like your base animal instincts are twisted into some weird belief that if you don't move he won't see you.

"Never?"

Your heart flutters at his low, commanding voice. The pure heat in it, so obviously intentional.

The pads of his fingertips and the faint graze of his blunt nails tease along the bare skin where your tank has ridden up. Your fingers tighten around the pillow case.

"Then I suppose..." he starts, sliding his hands higher. Palms smoothing against your sides, fingers trailing, taunting.

"You and I..." You feel the curve of his grin in his voice. "...will be here a very… very long time.”

You gasp when you feel his fingers press against the bare skin of your lowest ribs. "N-n-no-nnn-!"

But your protests are swallowed in laughter. Drowned in gasps and cackles. You're out of breath, out of threats, out of any form of resistance.

Loki's dark chuckle sings against your ear. Sends tiny sparks of pleasure down the skin of your neck.

And he keeps going - meticulous and devastating - drawing it out until you’re breathless, boneless, wrists still trapped high above your head, body burning with exertion and heat and something darker, something hotter, curling low in your belly and spreading like wildfire.

"Okay- okay okay!" You squeak, some high and helpless whine in the back of your throat. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry- please stop it!"

Loki finally slows, dragging one last, maddening trail up your side that makes you jerk involuntarily.

He sits back, straddling your hips lazily, surveying you. Admiring his work. His hair is wild around his face, his eyes bright with wicked satisfaction, incandescent with smug delight. His gaze stays locked on you, drinking in every breathless tremor.

You glare up at him, chest heaving, cheeks burning, completely at his mercy - and the way he looks at you, the way you feel under his hands... you can't show it.

"That..." you pant, "was an egregious HR violation."

"Oh dear," Loki rolls his eyes. "The paperwork."

"Oh, I'll show you fuckin' paperwork-"

"What shall it say, darling? How will you explain this? I'm so terribly fascinated by the prospect of our little tryst becoming immortalised in public record."

"That was not a tryst that was an attack and - hey, fuck you, untie me - it was uncalled for."

Perfectly in time with the raising of his brow, the pillowcase around your wrists loosen. But Loki makes no effort to get off you.

And you make no effort to push him off, even as you prop yourself up by the elbows, chin tilted back to look him in the eye.

"Poor thing," he soothes. And with that teasing edge, there's a softness. A devastatingly gentle thread of temptation laced through his voice. His smirk. His sheer fucking audacity.

He cocks his head to one side, pushing the damp curls back from his face, regarding you with a lazy challenge. "Was the big bad God of Mischief too hard on you?"

You lower your brow and pout, "Yes."

His head turns the other way. His smirk is devastating. "Do you need me to kiss it better?"

Every bit of heat in your over-exerted body goes to one of two places, and your lips part with a puff of air, almost like you'd been winded.

That small, insecure part of you whispers that this is a cruel trick. That he's having you on. He doesn't mean it, he-

Fuck.

Your breath hitches when the back of his hand finds your lower stomach. Your fists tighten as he trails his knuckles along the soft, exposed skin, his eyes not leaving yours. You swallow. He lifts a brow. A quiet question.

Your tongue slips out to wet your drying lips. "Maybe."

It's pitiful, but it's the only word you think you can say without it wobbling and-

Loki's shaking his head, shifting backward, lower. "I need a yes."

"Yes, then."

"And a please."

"Go fuck yourself."

He chuckles. "So sulky. What am I going to do with you?"

But before you can answer, his lips meet bare skin. Your back arches when his mouth brushes low across your stomach, just above the waistband of your shorts. He’s barely kissing - it's more breath than lips - but every exhale is warm and deliberate, as if he's savouring the feel of your skin against his mouth.

"You’re far too brazen for someone so soft," he murmurs. His fingers press just beside your hipbone, not quite pinching, not quite tickling, just enough to make your thighs twitch and your breath catch. "So easily undone, and still mouthing off."

His lips trail a slow line across your abdomen, kissing deliberately, as if each inch deserves reverence. Then- a single puff of air against your navel, followed by a nip of his teeth that makes your hips jerk.

You yelp. "Hey!"

He grins against your skin. "Thought you'd lost your voice for a moment."

The muscles of his shoulders dance under his shirt as he slowly pulls himself higher, chest brushing yours, hands planted by your head as he mouths a trail down your neck, grazing his teeth along the slope of your collar. Just enough to make your skin sing.

He lowers himself onto you carefully, hands dragging down your sides again, this time with full intention. His palms cup your waist, pulling you up into him.

The friction is electric.

Your chest heaves, thighs trembling under the weight of him - and he takes his sweet, unhurried time, moving over you like a storm in slow motion. He kisses the erratic pulse beneath your ear, nips, soothes, nudges his nose against your neck as your fists curl in his hair.

Your breath stutters when he finally pulls back enough to look at you.

Hair wild, breath shallow, eyes locked on yours like he wants to memorise every flicker of thought passing behind them.

He dips lower.

This time, his lips ghost over yours.

Once.

Twice.

Not kissing you. Not yet. Just tasting the shape of your mouth with his breath, taunting the final inches that separate you.

"Ask me," he murmurs, so soft you almost miss it.

Your jaw flexes.

"No."

He gives a dark chuckle. The sound brushes your lips. "Still so proud. Even now."

You glare, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

He leans in again, mouth brushing yours. "You want me."

Your breath catches.

"You want me," you retort.

He smirks. Hums. Kisses the corner of your mouth.

Just once.

Then the other.

Teasing. Gentle. Laying claim with infuriating grace.

You feel your eyes flutter.

He lingers. Breath to breath. Lips agonising close to yours.

"Say it," he breathes.

And you can’t anymore.

You’re done pretending.

"Just-... kiss me," you rasp.

And Loki does.

Not rough. Not possessive.

Deep. Measured. Devastatingly thorough.

His mouth moves over yours with patience, with precision, like he wants to map every gasp you give him and drag them out for his own pleasure.

You groan into it before you even know it’s happening.

Your hands twist in his hair as he deepens the kiss, tongue teasing your bottom lip before claiming more, drawing it out, savouring the moment like a rare vintage.

You kiss him back harder.

Because gods help you, you’ve wanted this. For too long. Through too many missions and almost-maybes and can’t-haves and don’t-even-think-about-its.

And now he’s everywhere.

His hands are under your tank top, resting against your waist as he keeps you under him. His body presses down, moulding into yours, every inch of him demanding and anchoring and terrifying in the way it feels so right.

You gasp into his mouth when his hand skims higher, palm dragging heat up your side, sliding beneath the edge of your top without hurry. Not groping. Just... feeling. Claiming space.

Your hips lift without your permission, chasing friction, chasing him.

He groans softly into your mouth. You swallow it greedily.

Loki pulls back just slightly, breathing hard. His forehead rests against yours, both of you straining against the gravity of the moment.

Still not enough.

His hands tense with the last dregs of his self-control, his body pressing down as if to imprint the shape of you onto his bones.

"You want this?" He pants. “You want me?”

"Yes," you gutter out. "Gods, yes."

He smirks against your lips. "Swearing to gods now, are we?" One hand slides back down your waist, hooking under your thigh, hitching it up over his hip. "How flattering."

When the radio on your tac vest wakes you with an alert of incoming comms, the first thing you register is the cold.

Then the ache - deep, lazy, sated - a bruised exhaustion thrumming through every muscle. Your brain struggles up from a black ocean of sleep just as the radio, somewhere across the room, starts crackling to life.

Loki groans low beside you. You feel the movement - sheets slipping off marble skin, the faint stretch of long limbs - and you grunt, rolling onto your stomach, grinding your forehead into the pillow. Everything hurts in a way that makes your mouth curl into a smug little smile against the linen.

The night comes back in flashes. Sharp. Shattering.

Claws-in, teeth-bared, breathless destruction of all the tension that had simmered between you for months. You hadn't so much fallen into bed with him as wrecked each other - over and over again - until your bodies finally gave out, tangled in the wreckage.

Maybe an hour of sleep. Maybe two. Not enough to be functional.

You groan as you push yourself upright, the blanket sliding off your bare back.

Loki sits at the other edge of the bed, dragging a hand through his wild, tangled black hair. The dim morning light coming through the frosted windows slices across his bare shoulders, illuminating the faint, red half-moon marks you left raked into his skin.

You'd be smug about it if your legs would fucking work.

The radio then crackles with the pilot's message:

"Seven minutes out. Chopper can't land. Buckle in for hover extraction."

You swear under your breath, shivering as the cold air hits you. You stagger toward the pile of tactical gear you’d dumped near the fireplace, yanking on your thermals, combat pants, boots, shirt, jacket, ignoring the way Loki watches you, one arm braced casually on his knee, the other draped over his thigh.

Comfortable. Loose. Dangerous.

You grab your tactical vest and the climbing harness slung over it, trying to move quickly, but your hands are clumsy, your joints stiff and sleep-starved. The straps tangle. You hiss in frustration, tugging at them.

Then, you hear the bed creak.

You feel him stand.

You don't turn.

Loki approaches with slow, measured, deliberate steps across the wooden floor. Each one a promise.

The air crackles between you, sharp and bright.

By the time he stops behind you, you’re holding the harness out in front of you like an fool, still wrestling it into some recognisable shape. You can practically hear the smirk in his silence.

He reaches out and, without a word, takes the harness from your fingers.

You lift your chin, refusing to look at him.

His knuckles brush yours. Not an accident.

You glare at the wall in front of you as he circles, slow and lazy.

Then he kneels. Right in front of you.

Looking up, lazy and wicked, his hair falling forward like a curtain of night sky. His body is bruised, unbothered, utterly relaxed. It should be illegal for anyone to look that composed after what the two of you did.

His hands move to your thigh, looping the first strap around it with maddening care. He doesn't rush. Just smooths it in place and gives it a slow, tightening pull. You feel it bite into your skin, feel his fingers curl with precision.

"You seem... compromised," Loki says lightly, his fingers brushing against your bare skin where your pants gap slightly at the hip.

You narrow your eyes.

Another strap glides between your thighs. His hands are firm, his thumbs brushing near places he has no business touching right now, not unless he wants round two on the cold floor. Maybe he does.

"Compromised?" you repeat, voice scratchy with lack of sleep and and too many hours of sinning.

He flashes a slow grin, wicked and pleased with himself, fingers tightening the strap until it bites your hip.

"Fatigued. Shaky. Thoroughly plundered," he drawls. "Tell me, darling - whoever could be responsible for that?"

You snort, pressing your lips together hard to bite back the traitorous smile twitching there.

"Self-satisfied bastard."

He smirks. "I do take pride in my work."

He pulls another strap between your legs, adjusting the belt with slow, taunting movements that are absolutely unnecessary and make you grind your teeth.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

"Doing what?" His voice is all innocence, but his hands are anything but. "Making sure you don’t fall out of your harness mid-air? You're welcome."

His fingers ghost under the hem of your top, smoothing the waistband flat against your belly. Every touch is too much. Too slow. You hold perfectly still, trying not to tremble.

"You’re not subtle," you mutter, raising a brow as you feel your lips flush.

"Ironic," he muses in satisfied purr, "coming from someone who, not four hours ago, was screaming herself hoarse begging for-"

You kick him lightly in the shin. He catches your ankle with lightning speed, holding it aloft for a second, grinning up at you like the absolute bastard he is.

"Temper," he tuts, releasing you.

He finishes the rest methodically, hands sliding around you with the same precision he uses when breaking into a vault - like he already knows where you’re most vulnerable.

"You know," he says lightly, eyes fixed on the buckles, "I should do this more often. Watching you squirm while I dress you. It’s…" He clicks the buckle shut with a soft snap. "Endearing."

You refuse to shiver. Refuse to give him the satisfaction. But you're admittedly speechless.

When he finally sits back on his heels, looking up at you, his eyes are molten as he whispers:

“Perfect.”

You roll your eyes and lean down to grab the carabiner clips, but Loki beats you to it.

He stands.

One slow movement - shoulders rising, body unfolding to full height - and you suddenly feel too small in his shadow, the air sucked clean from your lungs.

He steps in close, smooths a hand over the centre strap down your chest, fingers dragging slowly. Then he reaches for the buckle at your waist and snaps it into place with a decisive click.

You feel the strength of it reverberate through you, far more intimate than it has any right to be.

And he doesn’t let go.

Instead, he curls his fingers around the central loop, just above your navel, and lifts.

Effortlessly.

You don’t even have time to react before your boots leave the floor. Your breath hitches. Your hands scramble for balance, but he just stands there - arm slightly bent, muscles slack, holding you aloft with casual strength, like you weigh nothing at all.

Your eyes snap to his.

He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t leer.

He just watches you - dark and still, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do. His grip is unbreakable, his expression unreadable.

The air between you goes molten.

He holds you there for a full, punishing heartbeat. Then another. And another.

Then, finally - finally - he lowers you, so slow you swear he’s savouring every inch of contact as your body slides back into place.

Your boots touch the floor. Barely.

"Perfect," he murmurs again. "Safe and sound."

Your breath stutters. You feel warm all over. Unmoored.

"You done?" you rasp, not trusting your voice.

He chuckles, quiet and pleased. "Oh, not even close."

You exhale through your nose, clenching your fists at your sides to keep from grabbing him.

The radio crackles again: "On approach. Be ready. Thirty seconds."

You tighten your shoulder straps brutally, trying to focus. Trying not to think about how he still smells like smoke and sweat and you.

Loki finally magics on his gear, lazy and unconcerned, buckling himself in with casual grace. You want to slap him. Or straddle him again. It's really fucking hard to tell.

The storm had eased a little - less hectic wind but still smatterings of icy rain. The helicopter blades whir louder, slicing the air like a knife through satin, as you reluctantly leave the cabin behind and run, side-by-side with Loki, the short distance to the pickup point.

You clip yourself and him to the main retrieval cable, double-checking the lines with stiff, professional efficiency.

Your hands brush at the connection point. He catches your fingers in his and holds them just long enough to make your pulse stutter.

"You're trembling," he says barely over the wind, eyes glinting.

"Shut up," you mutter, clicking the radio twice to signal all is good. Pushing his hands away from the line so his skin doesn’t catch.

He chuckles, deep and low.

Above you, the cable jerks taut, the winch starting to pull.

You and Loki are yanked upward together, slammed chest-to-chest, bodies colliding with force as you're hauled into the storm-torn sky.

Your breath catches. Loki grins down at you, devilish.

"Another round when we get back?" he calls into your ear over the wind.

You narrow your eyes, baring your teeth in a wicked smile.

"Only if you leave your harness on."

He throws his head back and laughs - a wild, delighted sound ripped away by the screaming wind - as the two of you disappear into the storm.

#loki x reader #no y/n #loki x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #marvel one shot #mcu reader insert #mcu x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki tickle #ticklish!loki

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frostkissedheart · 1 month ago

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— Cuddling with Loki would include...

delusions of a girl with insomnia ~ don't know if I really like this but heh

— masterlist.

At first? He pretends he’s not into it. “Midgardian displays of affection are so beneath me,” he’ll say (as he aggressively pulls you onto the bed like a blanket-seeking missile).

He is (not so surprisingly) touch-starved; he craves affection more than he lets on, and cuddling becomes his favorite secret indulgence.

Nose kisses. He's obsessed. One for hello, one for goodnight, and about thirteen just because he likes the way you scrunch up when he does it.

Him sometimes shape-shifting into another forms just to mess with you. “Would you still cuddle me if I was a snake?"

If you try to get up, he'll wrap his legs around you like a clingy octopus. "You dare to abandon your prince? Treason."

When you joke that he’s your emotional support war criminal, he smirks: “At least I’m house-trained.”

Long nights with him reading ancient tomes and you nestled into his side; he pretends he’s not distracted by your presence. He very much is.

You catching him staring at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention; eyes full of something softer than mischief.

The way he sometimes uses his illusion magic to change the scenery around you, making your cuddle spot look like a starry Asgardian sky or a secret garden.

Loki sometimes humming Asgardian lullabies into your ear. They sound ancient and magical and a little sad.

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pixiekiwi · 6 months ago

Note

love your works! How about lokixreader (friends to lover). Where the reader decides to try to get over loki by going on a date because she thing loki doesn’t like her like that. So how loki finds out about her going out on a date and I’ll leave the rest up to you!

You Mischievous Little Thing | Loki Laufeyson x Fem!Reader

HELLOO!!! Thank you so much for this ask :3 I may have not written exactly what you were imagining, however I had a lottt of fun adding to this prompt. I also... wrote quite a bit more than I was expecting, the words just kept coming!! I hope you enjoy!! :D Reminder, asks are still open <3

Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Description: Loki finds you on a date, with another man, wearing his colors.

Warnings: Slight NSFW content, no set timeline, jealous Loki ;), feminine reader, no use of (Y/N), slight knife play.

Word count: 3.8k

mea columba: my dove

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

All Mother Frigga was not only known for being one of the smartest and beautiful women of Asgard, but also for the grand soirée’s hosted almost every other week. Typically they were hosted for events, however Frigga also loved to host gatherings for the sake of it, this being one of those times.

You had actually managed to get a date for this ball., and wasn’t an accident. Using it as an opportunity get your mind away from your childhood best friend - The Young Prince, Loki of Asgard.

You had recently come to the realization you had feelings for the man. You noticed your heartbeat would speed up at the littlest of glances, the smallest of smiles, the sweetest of looks.

How you had come to this conclusion was finding your cheeks the brightest of red in the mirror while allowing your mind to fall to the idea of the Prince. You cursed yourself that day, and cursed the God of Mischief for fooling you into these feelings.

You couldn’t help it however, his bashful smiles, his bright blue eyes that seemed to just do things to you - you couldn’t get him out of your mind.

And you knew, he did not feel the same way. I mean, he was Loki of Asgard, and you were you, of… Well, nothing really.

You had met him in the gardens when you were young. Your father was a nobleman on the war council and you had been visiting the castle for a few weeks when you had bumped into the boy. Immediately the two of you clicked, it was easy. You had the same curiosity for the world, the same mischievous and playful spirit, the same yearning to know more, to be more.

And now, centuries later, you lived in the castle. You had moved to the castle at Loki’s request, to help him with his studies to become the Crown Prince for when his brother finally was crowned. Now, you had a rightful seat at the war council - just as your father had.

It had been years of the two of you being side by side, you had become inseparable. Everyone knew it, everyone saw it.

You had both dated others, but nothing ever stuck for either of you. You didn’t mind, until you realized you had feelings for the Young Prince.

So now there you were, down in the Ball Room as hundreds of other Asgardians danced around you all the while awkwardly standing next to your date. Ironically, the only dress you had at the moment to wear was a dark green gown, laced with gold ribbon.

The man you stood beside wasn’t terrible, he was sweet, but just… Boring. It was nothing against him, he was handsome, but he didn’t get your jokes, your sarcasm, or even your compliments. It seemed he truly didn’t have a brain.

You smiled at him as he spoke about battle, in a dramatic fashion - explaining something about decapitating an enemy. You had stopped listening minutes ago, but yet you sipped your drink politely, letting your eyes wander slightly, looking for… Well you know who you were looking for. To your dismay, you had yet to see the blue eyed man.

So you moved your eyes back over to your date, whose name, you actually could not remember for the life of you. He had seemed to now be distracted by one of his friends who had come to speak to him. Seeing as they were now enthralled in a conversation, you took this as the best moment to step away.

You moved quickly, giving a quick muttered excuse to leave and moving carefully to the large banquet table. The foods and deserts upon the table made your mouth water. You reached for a rosatum, thankful for the sweetness that dissolved upon your tongue.

You let your eyes wander again, you watched as couples danced happily upon the dance floor, their lovestruck gazes never leaving each other’s. Your heart panged in an odd manner, was that jealousy? Yearning?

You didn’t know, and preferably, you didn’t want to.

As you were finishing one off of the many drinks you had tonight, you felt a pair of eyes studying you from afar.

You had grown a knack for sensing Loki from what felt like miles away. You were not one for magic, but his magic you could feel. You didn’t know why, you assumed it had something to do with the time you had spent together. However you didn’t mind, he wasn’t able to sneak up on you anymore - he had done it enough.

As your eyes snapped to his, a velvety feeling filled your lungs. A small smile crept up upon your face as you gave him a small curtsey, a running inside joke between you two.

You could see a smile creep up his expression as he bowed his head to you.

You could almost see his eyes graze your figure, but he was too far away to truly tell. Standing the upon golden steps across the room his aura bled confidence, that you could see from hundreds of feet away. He was wearing a beautiful dark green and gold suit plated with golden armor, a show of his status.

You wanted to wave him over, and you almost did - until your date grabbed your shoulder.

“You disappeared back there,” he smiled politely, pulling your attention, albeit begrudgingly, away from the Young Prince across the hall.

You didn’t see how his face fell.

“I apologize,” you smiled half-heartedly.

“I was just getting to the best part,” He laughed, his face red and flushed from alcohol, “I hadn't told you about the beheading!”

He did, a thousand times already.

You hoped your true emotions were not showing upon your face, as that would be quite rude. But truly, you could not stand to be around this man anymore. You had already listened to enough battle re-telling while on the council. You wanted to come up with some excuse to leave, maybe that you had fallen ill - but before you could even get another word out, the hairs on the back of your neck stood.

“Would you care to dance My Lady?”

You spun to the side, unaware of your date’s narrowing eyes upon the man now in front of you both.

“Loki.” you had almost gasped out in relief, he was finally here to rescue you from this horrid date.

His sharp features seemed to soften as they took you in, admiring the gown you had put yourself in. Loki’s eyes met yours again and his feathery gaze fell into an odd stoic wall you could not break through. He smiled politely at your date before holding out his arm for you to grab.

You took it willingly, wrapping your arm with his.

You didn’t even glance back to your date as Loki took you through the crowd, finding a perfect spot for the two of you to dance. You felt yourself become relaxed at the mere presence of him. His familiar oaky and leathery cologne invaded your senses, sending your heart into a frenzy of beats. His hold upon your arm was sturdy and powerful, almost as if proving something. You didn’t question it, happy you now had space between you and the man you were just with.

“A date?” The black haired man finally spoke out. His voice was solid, there was a strong lack of emotions behind his question, throwing you off.

You nodded.

“Y’know, Adrián is one of the stupidest Asgardians I’ve ever met.” He quipped. His tone was void of the typical teasing you were used to, but you smiled and laughed anyway, moving your body with his as you turned to dance with him.

“I realize that now, I actually didn’t even remember his name. I’m not sure he does either, he’s had enough mead for a lifetime.” You smiled, a genuine smile as you gazed up to Loki. Truly taking in his striking features. You had danced together time and time again before, however you always jumped at the chance to admire him. His hair was slicked back and styled, and his blue eyes almost looked green from the reflection of your clothing. “I think I could only handle the same story twice, and I have heard it enough already for a millenia.”

A small smile crept up to Loki’s face at your comment, but yet his stoic facade still stood between you and him. He spun you around once, stepping into place with the others dancing around you.

There was an odd silence between you two at this moment, it made you uneasy. Quiet was normal between you two - time spent together reading by the fire, studying in the archives, or even just spending time going on walks in and around the palace - but this quiet, it was different.

You kept your eyes on him as he failed to meet yours, “Is there something wrong?” You finally asked, your voice filled with genuine concern. You wanted to reach and brush the stray hair from his cheek back behind his ear, but you refrained.

Loki shook his head, licking his lips as he danced your body with his own. His eyes finally falling upon yours as he spoke, “It’s insulting for you to parade yourself out here in my colors, with your arm around another man.”

His words held a certain… frustration, that you could not decipher.

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, your eyes staying upon his as your eyebrows raised, “What?” A small nervous laugh escaping you.

His own eyebrow perked up, spinning you around with him as he scanned the crowd of people beside the group dancing, “Did you do it on purpose?” The irritation in his voice was certain as his eyes met yours again.

You had seen Loki frustrated before, angry even. However this was different - it was an emotion you had not seen upon the man. Your mouth went dry at the accusation, you were confused as to what he was implying - had you understood, you’d probably faint.

“I’m sorry?” You asked again, your voice still holding the nervous laugh from before. Avoiding his gaze you spoke again, “I do not understand what you are insinuating.”

While you failed to meet his gaze, you didn’t fail to notice the pink that seemed to climb up upon his neck. His own eyes flickering away from you to the crowd that surrounded you, he seemed… Nervous.

Suddenly, as if seeing something in the crowd - his eyes glowed with frustration once more before snapping to you again. He spun you around again, your gown glittering under the soft light from the chandeliers. Before pulling you close to his body, leading you two into a gentle waltz. The dancing had now become the background of your focus, giving Loki the authority to lead you was easy.

“Look at you, mea columba. You are adorned in gold and green.” Loki’s eyes scanned you up and down, a dangerous emotion flickering through his blue eyes. “You’re practically mine in those colors.”

Your eyes snapped to his blue ones in surprise. You opened your mouth to respond, but you had nothing on your mind to respond with, you were still mulling over his words in your mind.

Practically his.

You gulped as you closed your mouth, your eyes flitting from his eyes down to his lips, where a small smirk had begun to form upon them. Of course, he was playing a game with you, it seemed he always was. As your eyes met his again, you found the wall that was once there was now broken. You could see his frustration now melt into something different, confidence.

You hadn’t noticed Loki had led you both near one of the many exits of the ballroom. You now had stopped dancing, his arm still leading you two wherever he pleased. You looked around finally, seeing you had stepped past the beautiful archway leading you both down a quiet hall. You didn’t mind, the music was becoming overwhelming.

“It was the only gown that was decent enough for the ball.” The words tumbled from your lips haphazardly, it was the first response you could manage. You cursed yourself internally for drinking as much as you had. Deep down you knew that wasn’t the key to your flustered state, however it was easier to blame.

Loki’s eyebrow perked again at the excuse, leading you to an open isolated balcony looking upon the beautiful Gardens lit under the moonlight below. He turned to you, his arm unlacing with yours and taking a few steps away - keeping his eyes trained to your figure he spoke, “I thought you wore those colors for me.”

You froze, the soft chill of the wind sending shivers up your spine, or was that from him? You couldn’t tell. Swallowing thickly you moved to the edge of the balcony, looking down upon the gardens. Your nerves were on high alert, feeling his gaze upon you as you attempted to ignore him.

You couldn’t, his presence overwhelmed you in a way you couldn’t properly comprehend.

Wearing colors for him? Why would he care? Has he ever cared before?

You couldn’t recall a time where he had.

The silence enveloped the two of you, the only sound being the laughter from the ball room and the soft melody of music that echoed down the hall. Loki’s eyes fixated on you, and your own refusing to meet his. It was a silent battle of push and pull - a simple game which you knew you were losing.

You didn’t notice him pulling nervously at his fingers behind his back.

Knowing you couldn’t just let yourself lose, you pushed back. You felt confidence consume you, as you had played this game with him many times before. Straightening your posture you turned to him, your eyes finding his already upon your form.

They hadn’t left.

And finally - you spoke, bringing the silence to an end.

“I hadn’t realized you laid claim upon a color.”

As the jest fell from your lips, excitement flashed through the prince’s blue eyes. His hands falling to his sides as he moved closer. His body was now mere inches away from yours, you could feel the unusual cold chill from his body that you had grown to find comfort within. His hand reached to lift your chin, his eyes meeting yours.

It seemed as if lightning struck as they connected, your body tensed as the confidence you had just felt faltered for a moment.

A knowing smirk slowly made its way upon Loki’s face. “And anyone that wears it.”

Your breath hitched at the implication, your eyes flicking down his figure before meeting his eyes once again. You gazed at him through your eyelashes, your teeth finding your bottom lip as you returned his playful, smirk.

“Well,” You paused, taking your time to mull over your words as a certain heat rose in your lower half, “If I must, I may just have to - take it off?” You glanced away briefly, “If that pleases you,” you met his blue eyes again, “Your Highness.”

You lowered yourself into a curtsey, your head now below his abdomen. Before you could sink any lower, his cold hand grabbed your upper arm - pulling you back up to him. He was leaning over now, your faces just threads apart.

You could feel Loki’s breath upon your lips as he spoke, “Oh you mischievous little thing,” his tone low and rasping.

Lifting you and setting you upon the bench like railing of the balcony, one hand finding your lower back, his grasp the only thing between you and the gardens below sending a wave of adrenaline through you. His other hand - crawling up your leg under the flurry of skirts you adorned, your own hands finding his neck. He whispered finally, leaning over so that his lips now at your “You know I would like to do that myself.”

Stunned by his sudden actions, his declaration, and the closeness of the two of you - it had seemed as if you had suddenly lost the ability to speak. Your lips parted in surprise, his strong grasp steadying you just enough.

Your nervous gaze fell upon him - his attention fixated upon you. Your lungs shook as you took in a shuddering beeath, searching for the words to say, to continue this game.

But you couldn’t find those words, in fact, he didn’t even give you the chance to - as his lips were now on yours.

Your heart skipped eight beats at once and a small gasp escaped you. His kiss was hesitant at first, but when your eyes fluttered closed, and your hands found his hair, pulling him closer - as if giving him permission - he didn’t restrain himself any longer.

Loki’s hand on your lower back was now moving up to your shoulder blades, moving your body flush to his. The hand that resided within your skirts gripped your thigh tightly - as if he could sink claws into your warm flesh.

As he leaned closer, you broke away - your nervousness from being mere inches to the edge causing your momentous pause. Breathless and shamelessly warm, your lips parted, ready to warn him of your anxieties. His hungry eyes met yours and he spoke for you.

“You think I'd be so foolish as to let you fall?” He clicked his tongue teasingly as he spoke, “The only foolish thing I’ve done is let you be seen in this dress while not by my side.”

A wild glimmer flickered through his icy blue gaze, desperation clawed through them as they trailed down to your gown. As they flicked back up, the mischievous smirk you were used to took hold of his expression. You could see the gears turning in his mind - you knew his next actions would be bad news.

You felt yourself flush with amorous excitement.

Loki’s hand upon your back lowered once more - all the while still holding you sturdy - and his other hand loosened from your thigh. “We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong message now,” his eyebrow perked as he cocked his head to the side slightly, his tone low and commanding, but yet far from his usual Prince-like-regality, “Would we?”

You felt a cold sharp object graze where Loki’s hand once was. Your breath hitched as you heard the sharp ripping of fabrics.

Your eyes snapped down, your skirts now cut away, revealing your bare legs and a dagger gripped between Loki’s palm. As he conjured the dagger away in a fluff of green particles, feathery gasp escaped your lips at the sudden coolness of the breeze against your skin. His hand found your thigh once more - however much higher than he had before.

“Much better now,”, he pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his lower half. His dangerous gaze never seemed to falter.

“Don’t you agree?”

You wanted to disagree, in fact you wanted to yell at him for cutting up such a beautiful gown. But hungry excitement flooded your veins.

“Loki…” You whispered out a warning. You wanted to say more, tell him that this game had gone too far - but the yearning for more clawed through your chest and down through your lower half. Something else told you this wasn’t a game anymore. Your tongue flitted over your lips - Loki’s eyes falling to them - watching as you bit back the words you truly wanted to say.

“Oh mea columba,” He practically groaned out - his voice coated with desperation, “As much as I love seeing you in gold and green, I think I’d much prefer you with nothing on.” As he spoke, his hand on your upper thigh crawled farther up - reaching the hem of your panties.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as his cold fingers played with the hem “If that pleases you, My Prince.”

As the words left you, his gaze shot to yours. His eyes glowed with hunger, so much so that even you could see that he was starving.

“What would please me, is the idea of you never wearing another man's arm -” He paused, his fingers slipping under the hem, his hand grasping the side of your hips. He lowered, his lips finding your jaw - you stretching your neck to give him access. The kisses started slowly, giving you time to move your hands around to his neck and lowering them further down his chest.

“However,” he began again - his lips now lowering down to your neck “You can wear my colors-” He stopped again, his teeth now grazing your collarbone, unbeknownst to you his piercing gaze stared up at you, “As long as I get to claim you as mine.”

You shuddered at his words, realizing this was not a game anymore. This was desire. Your hands found the back of his head once more, his once styled and slicked back hair was now a mess - his natural curls now showing through.

The goosebumps that raised on your flesh was telling enough for Loki, he smirked against your skin. Straightening himself into a stand, all the while kissing you feverishly up your neck and collarbone.

Tightening his grip upon your hip - hovering his lips just breaths away from yours he spoke, “Should we take this to my bed chambers then,” he paused, his sensual gaze now upon yours, “My lady?”

You gazed up at him through your lashes - your body warm with desperation, with the want - no - the need, for more.

“Please-” the plea was barely a word, but instead a hushed moan that you couldn’t control.

At the sound Loki’s eyes flashed - both hands now at your hips, lifting you from the railing. His arms wrapped around you, flushing you against him. You barely had time to register the green particles that surrounded you both, before your head was upon a pillow and soft silk sheets beneath you. Loki’s arm released you gently as he leaned back, now straddling you.

He whipped his hair back, brushing it away from his face as he took a steadying breath, his eyes finding yours again. You noticed he no longer wore gold armour, but just his shite undershirt and black pants that he wore underneath.

Your heart seemed to stutter as you watched him, his biceps flexing as he moved to unbutton half of his shirt. His sensual gaze looking you up and down, sending shivers through your spine, and velvet through you.

“Now,” He spoke finally, pulling your hands that laid at your sides up, above your head onto the headboard. His face now inches from yours once more, “Let’s get this torn gown off of you.”

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slasherslittlesimp · 2 months ago

Text

Cursed (Avengers X Reader)

PART ONE

Dark circles rest beneath your glazed (E/C) eyes that stare blankly ahead in an unfocused daze. Your hair is greasy and unbrushed, having not been touched in quite some time. Your hands are trapped against your sides as the black leather straight jacket you're forced to wear prevents them from moving- To prevent them from tearing the muzzle from your face.

Due to your rather strong and problematic ability, your captors keep a rather tight muzzle on you at all times. It's controlled by a small handheld device that can unlock it from a distance which allows them to give you access to your ability without putting themselves in harms way. Usually they stick you in a secure room with whoever it is they need you to use your ability on before allowing your muzzle to fall off so you can do as instructed. Once the task is complete, they wait until you place the muzzle back on before retrieving you and returning you to your small room.

The muzzle is high tech not only due to the fact it can be removed remotely, but also because it can cause you immense amounts of pain should it be attempted to be removed in any other way. You learned the hard way that trying to pry it off with your hands will lead to strong volts of electricity coursing through your face, the pain damn near killing you. Since then you've been forced to wear the black straight jacket to keep you from trying again. Not that you would.

You're an extremely useful asset to them- probably the strongest that they have. While they don't particularly care about your comfort or most basic needs, they do care about keeping you alive for as long as possible. Anything that could be a risk to your life is always kept far from you almost as if they think you'd be willing to take your own pathetic life. You wouldn't, but they don't really believe that.

It's why you're almost always strapped and muzzled like a wild beast. The only times your arms and mouth are free is when they need you to do your job or when you're eating. They always send in an agent to undo the straps of your jacket to allow you minimal use of your hands- so you can eat and put your muzzle back on on your own. Once the muzzle is secure on your face once again, the same agent will come back to restrain you once again. You've spent most of your life with your arms folded up in the restricting jacket that it almost feels unnatural to move them in any other way.

You've no idea how long it's been like this, either. Since your capture, you haven't seen the outside world except for handful of times- though that was long ago. Since then not even a passing glance through a window. You've been confined to the same small section of the base only moving between two rooms that are separated by a long hallway. There's dozens of other doors along the walls of the hallway yet you've never once been through any of them. You've also never seen them be opened. It makes you wonder if there's even actually anything in those random rooms.

You're pulled back to reality when you hear voices outside of your room. Their voices are quiet and somewhat muffled but if you focus hard enough you can almost make out what it is that they are saying over the sounds of the alarm. You don't recognize the voices, but then again there's hundreds of agents in this horrendous group and you know that you haven't met more than a few.

"Are you stupid?!" One of the voices sounds almost exasperated as they hiss the words at whoever it is they're talking to.

"She can help!" The other person argues, his voice slightly louder than the others.

"Help who? Because as far as I'm concerned she's more likely to help them." You can tell that he's trying his best to convince the other person without raising his voice. He's likely trying to avoid detection since you know he probably isn't supposed to be in your section. "We wouldn't stand a chance if we released her and she decided to help them."

"We don't stand a chance regardless!" He sounds almost desperate as he practically pleads with the other man. "She's our only chance! We're screwed without her!"

There's a slight noise you can't identify before the other man responds. "Do you honestly think that the asset will help us fight after everything that has been done to her?"

"Maybe we should let her free regardless. I mean, she's a human being and yet she's treated like a damn dog. I think we should let her go with them." His voice is soft as he speaks to the point where you can barely make out what he's saying.

"We'd be killed for that. Are you really willing to throw your life away for some girl you've never even met?"

The question is met with silence, leaving you unaware of what's happening outside of your door. All you know is that apparently the base is under attack and that there's a chance that whoever it is will save you. That is unless you decide to fight against them should you be released from your restraints. If you are released, you're almost certain that you'll remain neutral, not helping either side as you hate using your powers.

The next thing you hear is a commotion outside of your room which sounds a lot like people fighting. You're unsure if the two men from before are still out there or not but if they are then they will likely lose the fight against whoever it is they're facing. If they were scared enough to consider releasing you then their opponents must be quite strong.

The fight outside your room lasts for a few minutes, the grunts and yells being the only sounds until everything suddenly goes silent. The sudden silence is disrupted by doors opening and closing as whoever remains searches through the rooms. You're unsure what they're searching for but whatever it is they're looking for must not be in any of them as they quickly move to the next room.

They grow closer and closer to your room, the sounds of the doors growing louder until they stop right outside of your room. You stare at the large metal door blocking you from whoever it is outside of your room, waiting patiently to see if they're going to open it or not. For some reason they seem to be taking longer to open it compared to all of the other doors. Is there a difference between yours and those ones? Perhaps. You've never noticed it if there is.

You can't help but to flinch slightly as the mechanical lock whirs before clicking loudly. You instinctually hold your breath, fearing that it may be one of your caretakers coming to collect you. The handle slowly turns as if taunting you before the door finally swings open allowing you to fully hear the blaring alarms.

A woman you've never seen before steps into the room, her eyes instantly landing on your figure as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at her with dull eyes, sending a shiver down her spine- something that she doesn't normally experience no matter what she's facing. Her brows furrow slightly as she examines you, her mind likely racing.

Her eyes trail from your messy hair to your muzzle, then down to your leather straight jacket and torn baggy pants before landing on your dirty bare feet. Her gaze then flickers quickly around your room, taking in the bare minimum that is inside the concrete cell. All there is in your room is your thin lumpy mattress which sits on a wire frame and a dirty metal toilet in the corner with a sink on the back of it.

"I've found something you might want to see." Her voice is low as she speaks, likely talking into her comms that connect her to the rest of her group. You can't hear whatever the person on the other side says but she nods before informing them of her location.

After that she takes a step further into the room, seeming slightly hesitant to get any closer to you. Despite the fact that you obviously would be unable to effectively fight her, she's still wary since she has no idea what you're capable of. It's quite obvious that you must be at least somewhat powerful if they've gone as far as to both muzzle and restrain you.

"Are you alright?" She questions as she keeps her gaze locked on you. It's a question you haven't heard in a long time- nobody here cares how you're doing. What they care about it whether or not you can do your job. Slowly, you nod, letting her know that you are fine and willing to interact.

She doesn't say anything else to you as somebody else comes down the hall, calling what you assume is her name. She shouts back, letting them know which room she's in. A few seconds later a man comes into the room, his eyes on Natasha before flickering over to you. He seems surprised, his brows raising slightly.

"We weren't informed of there being anyone other than agents and scientists here." The man murmurs as he steps forward to stand next to Natasha. "Any idea who she is?"

Natasha shakes her head as she crosses her arms over her chest. "I haven't found the servers yet to download their files. What should we do, Cap?"

"We take her with us for now. I doubt she'll be able to do anything while wearing all of that." He gestures at you as he looks over your restrictive outfit.

Natasha nods in agreement before moving forward. You try your best to keep from flinching as she gets closer, your eyes warily watching her. She watches your reaction for anything negative as she reaches forward before her small hand wraps around your bicep. You allow her to pull you to your feet, her grip tight to keep you from running. She leads you from the room as the both of you follow after the rather large male as he makes his way down the hall to check the remaining rooms.

You personally have no idea where the server room is so you can't really help them- not like you'd be able to vocally inform them anyways. You're all just blindly wandering from room to room, you watching them both skillfully take out any agents in their way before moving on. Finally, after what felt like hours of walking around, you all stumble into the server room where towers and computers fill the room with a blue glow.

"Let's see what secrets we can find today, shall we?" Natasha smirks as she steps away from your side to plug a drive into one of the towers. You know that the first thing she'll look at will be your file. You can only hope that her and the man she called Cap are better people than the ones you've spent most of your life with.

Part Two

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unnatural-happenings · 2 months ago

Text

Of Capes & Billionaires

Took a break from staring at my Persona drafts again to write this instead lol. Would be the first part to this if I decide that finishing the future drafts is worth the time spent away from the Persona fic (ie if I enjoy it)

Fandoms: Batfam x Reader x Avengers

Characters: Damian and Loki. Some of the Batfam and Avengers are here too, but the focus is mostly on them

Notes: Reader is They/Them, Loki is here because I want him to be, Reader is a kid of Bruce Wayne, While this isn't a neglectful!Batfam fic the relationship is still tense atm, for Marvel I try to stick to MCU personalities but a little bit of comic or cartoon quirks might make it in

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Living with Bruce Wayne has always been frustrating. The rules, the expectations, the press, galas, and vigilante nonsense makes for an extremely stressful environment. Adding family drama on top of all that is a surefire way to make you slip away at the nearest convenience.

Your second home with the Avengers is more carefree—less brooding, way less pretending, and always welcomes you back with open arms… and maybe a drink or two. They're your safe haven, and you'd love nothing more to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, your family has never been good at letting secrets stay secrets.

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Damian could not believe this farce you're playing is still ongoing. You continue to vex him even in your absence and make his evening worse.

It had been a long day. School was as dull as usual, the teachers not teaching anything new and his classmates completely vapid, he'd taken care of every one of his pets, already got Grayson to spar with him, the rest of his brothers have vanished, and patrols wouldn't start for another hour.

He was as free as can be and it left him annoyed beyond measure. His go to option for filling up dead time wasn't available—to his complete ire—so he spent time in his room trying to draw while Alfred the cat curled up next to him. Though he could barely focus on what he was actually putting to paper, as his mind kept drifting to the one person responsible for his current lack of activity.

Stewing within his head and staring at a sheet of paper filled with mindless doodles is when his phone buzzes next to him. It's in a familiar rhythm that has him instantly pick it up to check the notification.

Fury is the only acceptable word for what Damian's currently feeling.

His sketchbook is haphazardly thrown onto the bed as he gets up—annoying Alfred—and makes a beeline for the door. He storms through the manor, every step fueled by a deep, aimless frustration as he throws open one of the many entrances to the Batcave.

Everyone's already arrived before him—or it's better to say they were all already there, and all strewn about the place. Though he cares little for their positions when Drake is the only one that can provide any answers.

Damian's eyes dart to the Batcomputer to see what you just posted to your social on one of the bigger screens, and Drake typing away on another. It was a picture of you standing on the snowy peak of mountain—drinking hot chocolate, along with some blonde guy that definitely didn't deserve to stand in your presence.

"Drake."

"I know, I know, I'm already on it."

He stands there and watches as Drake goes through file after file, checking as much surveillance footage as possible and putting the unknown's face through every registry he could think of. By the end, everything comes back negative and he slides downwards in his seat with a groan.

Todd puts down the gun he was cleaning, obviously barely paying attention to what was happening on the screen having resigned himself to lack any expectations.

"Let me guess, nothing again."

Drake runs a hand over his eyes and Damian scoffs when he notices his leg start bouncing, "He still shows no results and they're no longer in that location anymore. This was posted long after they already left… Again."

He can't believe what he's hearing. To have gone this long without finding a single clue leaves Damian doubting Drake's skill altogether.

"I thought you were supposed to be the computer genius of the family. How come you still haven't found a clue as to where our sibling is located?"

Drake lets out a sharp exhale, "We've been through this ten over times now and every search has ended the same. They post the pictures when they're already out of the area, they have location tags and their GPS turned off, despite clearly being all over the world their profile always signs in from Sydney Australia, their email isn't real, they're using a highly encrypted device even Oracle is struggling to deal with, every purchase they make is either in cash or using another persons card, and somehow, not once have they been caught on camera by any surveillance."

He goes on to mutter under his breath, too low for Damian to make out any words, but it further irritates him anyway.

"Are you positive you're even trying? It's not like they're not some elusive figure."

Drake spins in the chair to directly face Damian, his extreme irritation made know at his prodding, "I wouldn't even slack during an investigation for Kite Man, to think I'd do so for any member of our family is insulting. I want to find them as much as you do. It's also necessary to learn how they've been able to avoid detection for so long—"

"Well it sounds like you're only searching because they hurt your ego."

"Are you hearing yourself—"

"Enough."

Their father calls out from the side. He doesn't do anything else other than stand their and stare, but it's enough to instantly silence both of them and keep them from continuing. He gestures with his head towards the screen, and Drake rolls his eyes before spinning back around.

From behind the bat, Jason speaks out while cleaning one of his firearms, "So what? Either he continuously wipes every database in the world, or he doesn't exist?"

Grayson also finally decides to join in with a comment of his own, "Could he be photoshopped at all?"

He walks closer to the screen to get a better look at the man you're posing with in the picture. Cain follows behind him, carefully studying the photo as well, but not adding anything to the conversation as of yet.

Drake sits up in his seat, his anger fading into exhaustion with another sigh, "No." He starts another scan of the blonde's face through a meta/mutant database, "Both options are seemingly impossible, considering they go everywhere together with no evidence of photo tampering. One moment they're on the beaches of Denmark and the next they're skiing in Canada!" He mutters under his breath, "Not to mention they didn't even take enough money to go on all these flights. I have no idea where they're getting the funds for this."

He slumps over again when the results turn up negative, just like every other.

Todd strolls over like he has no care for the outcome, but it only takes looking at his face to see how this is affecting him. His jaw tense as he glares directly at the light-haired man, no doubt trying to burn his appearance into his memory. Damian has also done this himself. but truly, he doesn't think Todd's earned the right to be as mad as he is at your disappearing act, and it makes his own blood boil even more.

"Tch. We wouldn't be going through such troubles in the first place if they took their phone with them. We should not be learning about their location through second hand sources."

That was merely meant to be a statement regarding the inconvenience of their search despite being family, but Todd felt the need to add to it and make it more personal.

"We wouldn't be trying to find them at all if they didn't run off without saying anything, then start hangin' out with a guy we can't track."

"They wouldn't have even left if you all didn't—"

"Are we really doing this now?"

This time, their father doesn't interfere as Damian starts another argument, merely grunt in disapproval. Cain takes one last look at the picture and leaves Grayson's side—who in particular is wondering if he should step in to stop the increasingly violent fight—to walk up to Bruce.

He acknowledges her with a nod and she gets right to he inquiry, "… What about Superman?"

Cain's interjection causes Damian to put a pause on reaching for the nearest batarang to fling past Grayson at Todd. He needs to hear if the Super family has any word on your whereabouts. They should, but if for some reason they know nothing or refuse to help, it shouldn't be to hard to get information out of Jon.

"He refuses to tell me anything, and has made a conscious effort to not report any potential leads to their location in Justice League systems."

Drake turns towards everyone again in the chair, "Conner hasn't said anything either."

Grayson's in the middle of picking up batarangs lying about the cave and putting them in his inner jacket pockets, "They don't want to be found that bad huh…" When he's collected all that he can see he steps in front of Todd—ignoring the hard look he's getting from him, "At least they seem to be doing okay for now."

Todd rolls his eyes and makes his way over to his bike, "Why are we even trying this hard to find them in the first place?"

Damian turns his attention back to Todd with a glare, baffled by the idiocy and his seemingly short-term memory loss. Before he could remind him again that this whole situation is partly his fault, Drake replies

"You were on B's side weren't you? You know why."

Todd looks back towards the group, and for a moment Damian could see how tired he actually was. His shoulders slouched and the bags under his eyes became more prominent, though the frustration at the world—or maybe just towards their father, is still clearly evident.

"I really don't anymore." And just like that he was back to acting indifferent about everything. He hops on his motorcycle and starts the engine, then digs through his bag for his helmet, "Goin' on patrol. Anyone joinin'?"

Already in her suit, Cain is quick to jump on the back of his bike. She accepts the spare helmet Todd hands her without question and swiftly locks it in place as he revs the engine.

Father steps forward, his tone stern as he watches them prepare to leave, "It's not—"

"It's already dark out. Don't start this again, we're still dealing with the consequences of the last one." Jason snaps back. With that, they take off out of the cave without another word.

Grayson leans over Drake to scroll through the rest of your pictures. Multiple of the recent pictures include the very same man that none of them are able to put an identity to. Drake and Damian also scanning each photo they go through, hoping for anything to make sense about the mystery man. In every picture you're happy and don't seem worried about him at all. None of your expressions seem fake either, if only a little exaggerated in some. You act like you've known this guy for years, so why hasn't anyone heard of him before?

Drake runs a hand over his face a d huffs out his next words, "This guy bothers me."

Grayson leans his arm on Drake's shoulder, ignoring his attempts to swat him off, "I know right? He's blonde, that just spells trouble."

"… That's not what I meant at all."

Damian tunes out the chatter from the peanut gallery and turns to his father to inform him on his plans, "I will ask Jon if Kent has informed him of anything, or if they know where they are already."

Drake snorts and lets out a quick 'good luck with that'. Damian has to fight the urge to turn around and insult him for even daring to laugh at his attempts. At least he was still doing something, unlike some of the others.

Then he thinks back on the argument that got you to leave unannounced in the first place and he changes his mind. Half of this family isn't good enough to go searching for you anyway. He's sure if you spotted them, you'd make sure you're never found again. All this over something so idiotic.

Whatever. Once he finds you he'll make sure something so asinine won't happen again, so you won't have to feel like you need to escape again. He'll beat it into everyone's head over and over to never look down on you again if it meant you'd tell him what's going on.

Maybe he should deal with that unknown with you as well. Whoever he is, he's way beneath you, and you shouldn't be giving your time to him at all. What would make you stoop so low as to hangout with random civilians over your own family?

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"I swear to God if you throw that blue shell—"

"Too late."

You can do nothing but curse as your position is threatened. All you have is a green shell with a single coin in your back pocket, with no item boxes nearby to try for a boombox. Within seconds you're screaming as the blue shell reaches you and blows you into oblivion. You watch the entire race pass you while waiting for your kart to stop spinning out, ignoring the cheering from the God of Thunder and the victory lap the archer is currently doing around the room. By the time you can drive forward you have no hope of catching up to the front of the pack with no items and no coins, and come in 7th place. You fall off the couch to kneel on the floor, muttering about how you've disgraced your entire linage.

Natasha nudges your back foot from her position on the couch. She doesn't look up from the book she's reading, but obviously is addressing you with her next words.

"You still won the grand prix. Clint isn't even close, and Thor wasn't really competition to begin with."

You shake your head and lean back onto your knees, "You don't understand Nat. Every loss is a severe scar on my record. A stain. Something to be held over my head for years to come. I need to make up for this failure by setting the new world record on the track I've let best me in a moment of weakness."

That's when she looks up from the book she's reading, her brow quirked, not even trying to hide her amusement at your misfortune, "Aren't you already the world record holder?"

"It's obviously not good enough."

"You only lost because of a blue shell."

Suddenly you're being lifted off the floor. Extremely muscular arms wrap around your middle and pull you into a toned chest. Along with the deep laughter coming from the man behind you, and noticing the missing God of Thunder on the couch, you're easily able to identify Thor's the one to pick you up.

"You did splendid! You're mastery has indeed improved since we last versed one another, as have mine! Though Barton…"

Both of you bring your attention back to the archer to see he's still doing victory laps around the room.

"'Twas but a cheap trick. I assure you his proficiency is far below yours."

"A cheap trick means nothing. I still lost, and to him."

Thor only responds with more laughter.

Clint finally stops his self congratulatory dance to… correct your very wrong opinion of him, "Hey, that was not cheap! I worked hard to drive that Blue Shell to the front of the race!"

You wiggle until Thor puts you down, not wanting to argue held in his arms, "You're bagging tactics are cheap and lame!"

"Bagging requires skill—Wait you were bagging our last race! Why are you getting mad at me!?"

Suddenly a book slams closed, cutting off your oncoming rebuttal and drawing everyone's attention to the corner of the room. Another god sits in the corner, his displeasure made evident through the scowl resting on his face and the closed book on his lap. He stands with a level of grace only a spoon fed, self righteous royal could attain, causing you to grumble under your breath—assuming he's only acting this extra because he either wants something, or is planning something.

He shoots you a glare before addressing everyone in the room, his voice underlined with irritation, "You lot are trying my patience with your incessant howling. Attempting to put up with this noise any longer may cause severe damage to my own sanity."

You're heart sinks a little as he makes his way to leave, but on his way past he grabs the back of your clothes and drags you with him without a second thought.

"H-HEY! LOKI WAIT! THE GAME!"

The others do nothing to help you, all used to you acting as the mischief maker's shadow, whether willing or not. You make sure to flip them off before you turn the corner, seeing Natasha shrug and go back to her own book and Thor wave with one of the largest smiles you've seen on him. Clint only laughs at your predicament, so you mentally note to make him your target the next time you play a party game.

Once you're far enough away and Loki has slid his hand from the back of your clothes to your wrist do you speak up.

"You could just ask me to walk with you y'know?"

"So you wouldn't have thrown yourself to further rot away by the hands of that game to accomplish some arbitrary award that grants you nothing but bragging rights?"

"… No?"

"Don't lie to me."

You don't respond, and it's silent as you let Loki take you to wherever he's going. Soon enough you find yourself in front of your bedroom, Loki letting go of you and easily phasing through the door. With a roll of your eyes and complaints under your breath you follow after him.

He's already taken a seat on the egg chair you have next to the bookshelf and opened his book. You huff before looking around for things to do. There isn't much in the room, you never stayed long enough to bother personalizing it, but you do spot the Gamecube Tony bought for you as a joke. He was getting tired of you not doing anything, so he got that and a shelf full of games—said he was buying you a personality.

"Do not tell me you're still going to play that aggravating racing game?"

You continue to set up the console as you reply to him, "It's only aggravating when I'm playing with Clint, and is the one thing I have over Tim, so I gotta make sure I stay better then him." You look over to him and see he's still got his head in his book, "And you're reading! what else do you want me to do!"

Loki ignores most of what you said, only focusing on one thing, "If you are that keen on thinking about your family through every action then why are you still here? I thought you hated them."

"I just need time away." You sigh as you're thoughts drift a little more to the rest of your family, "That house is suffocating, but that doesn't mean I love them less. They're just being annoying."

A laugh escapes you when you think about how annoyed some of them must be right now due to your recent stunt, "That, and it's really funny being petty."

Loki let's it go as he chuckles himself, "Speaking of being petty, where's our next photoshoot? I'm sure they enjoyed seeing our last in the mountains."

You laugh more freely now as you bring your attention back to the game, pushing aside the more troublesome thoughts, "I heard Tony owns a private beach house. I'm sure he wouldn't mind us dropping by for a couple pictures."

#Batfam x reader #Avengers x reader #Loki x reader #Damian Wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #Tony Stark x reader #Bat Family x reader #Marvel x reader #DC x reader #x reader #reader insert #Capes & Billionaires #Uchu.writes #Uchu.posts

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aspenmissing · 2 months ago

Note

I am so stupid and managed to send in my last ask without correcting it. Would you pretty please write that ask but instead of arcane characters do bucky, steve, tony, moonknight (both their reactions🙏) and loki.

I mean it's not like I'd get mad if you wrote the arcane character but yea I definitely get you getting burned out from writing so much for them.

❤️❤️

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ

ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ | ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ | ꜱᴛᴜᴄᴋʏ | ᴍᴏᴏɴᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ | ᴛᴏɴʏ | ʟᴏᴋɪ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 7711 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅɪᴅ (ᴍᴏᴏɴᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ) - ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ɪɴ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴀᴀɴᴏɴ!! ɢᴇᴛ ꜱᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ, ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴅᴏ ʙᴏᴛʜ (ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ), ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ 'ᴡʜʏ ɴᴏᴛ'. ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ᴅᴏ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍᴏᴏɴᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ��, ɪ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ Qᴜɪᴄᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ, ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3 <3

STEVE

Steve Rogers and Y/N had been inseparable ever since they first met on the battlefield. They’d fought side by side, saving the world together, and had always shared an unspoken bond that felt stronger than any words could describe. Over the years, their connection had grown into something deeper, something only they truly understood. It wasn’t just about being teammates—it was about being two halves of a whole.

Y/N was Steve’s right hand, his partner in every mission. They were the strategist, the thinker, the one who kept him grounded while he led the charge. They were often the calm in the storm, the one who saw the bigger picture when Steve’s instinctual drive was to dive headfirst into the fray. They balanced each other perfectly, as though their very souls had been crafted to complement one another. If Steve was the shield, Y/N was the hand that guided it, the brain behind the operation, always one step ahead. Their connection was so seamless it felt as though they were a single entity, a force that no one could break.

Despite the intensity of their bond, their relationship had always remained professional. They had never put a name to it—at least, not out loud. Others often assumed they were married, the way they finished each other’s sentences, the way their eyes met across the room and spoke volumes without the need for words. And Y/N, ever the quick-witted one, was always fast to correct anyone who made such an assumption. They didn’t want to label it. They couldn’t. Not when the unspoken understanding between them was all that mattered.

But today was different.

The Avengers had just returned from a mission, the weight of their latest victory hanging in the air like a faint glow. They had survived another harrowing battle, and now, they were gathered in the briefing room for the usual debriefing. Y/N was standing beside Steve, both of them scanning over the latest intel. Their shoulders were close, but not touching—no need for that when they communicated so effortlessly without physical contact. It was as though their very presence was a conversation.

As the group discussed the mission’s success, Tony, ever the instigator, was the first to break the silence with his usual mischievous grin.

"So, when’s the wedding?" Tony asked, his voice laced with playful sarcasm. "I mean, you two are practically married at this point. Always together, finishing each other’s sentences, always on the same wavelength."

Steve chuckled awkwardly, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink. He opened his mouth to correct Tony, to deflect the attention with a joke or a comment, but before he could speak, Y/N, who had been standing silently beside him, simply smiled and spoke up.

"I think we’re already married in spirit," Y/N said softly, their voice playful but carrying a weight that made it impossible to ignore. Their gaze never left the data on the screen in front of them. It wasn’t a joke, not like the others they’d thrown back at Tony in the past. They said it as if it was an undeniable truth—something they had both known for a long time, but never dared to say aloud.

The room fell silent for a moment, the impact of Y/N’s words settling in like a calm after a storm. Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He was surprised—not by the fact that Y/N had said something so bold, but by the weight of what they’d said. They didn’t correct Tony. They didn’t laugh it off or brush it aside like they usually did. This time, they let the moment hang in the air, unchallenged.

The others exchanged knowing glances. Natasha raised an eyebrow, Clint smirked, and even Bruce looked over with a subtle, thoughtful expression. But it was Steve who spoke next, his voice softer than usual, laced with curiosity, uncertainty, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

"Y/N…" Steve began, his voice trailing off as he looked at them, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t expected this shift. It was different. And, maybe, he realized, that was what they both needed.

Y/N finally turned their head to meet Steve’s gaze, and when their eyes met, it was like a quiet understanding passed between them. No words needed to be spoken. They didn’t need to explain themselves, because Steve already knew. He always had, deep down. Their connection was something far beyond labels. It was something that couldn’t be captured in the words ‘partners,’ ‘friends,’ or even ‘lovers.’ It was something uniquely theirs.

Steve’s expression softened, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t upset. If anything, he felt a sense of relief. For once, Y/N had allowed their bond to be known, without deflecting it, without pretending it was anything less than what it was.

Tony, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to get all mushy on me," he teased, though his tone was laced more with amusement than anything else.

But Steve couldn’t help it. His heart swelled. Maybe Y/N was right. Maybe, in every sense that mattered, they were already married—connected, not just in battle, but in life. They had fought for the world together, but more than that, they had fought for each other. And in that moment, Steve realized that their bond wasn’t something that needed to be explained to anyone else. It just was.

The moment passed, the conversation drifting to other matters, but Steve couldn’t shake the feeling of something shifting inside him. A realization was dawning on him, one that had been lingering beneath the surface for far longer than he cared to admit. Maybe it was time they stopped denying the depth of what they shared. Maybe it wasn’t just about being right-hand and left-hand anymore. Maybe it was something more.

As the team began to break apart, Steve lingered behind, waiting for Y/N to finish up with the mission notes. The room slowly emptied, but Steve remained, not wanting to let the moment go just yet.

When they were alone, the silence between them was different. It was heavier, filled with the weight of everything they hadn’t said. Finally, Steve spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.

"Y/N," Steve said, his hand reaching out to gently rest on theirs. The simple touch sent a wave of warmth through him. "You know that was… different, right?"

Y/N looked up at him, their gaze meeting his with that same quiet understanding they had always shared. There was no need for words to explain it—everything was already laid bare between them, everything that needed to be understood had already been understood. This time, they didn’t correct him. Instead, they smiled softly, the kind of smile that said everything Steve needed to hear.

"Yeah, Steve," Y/N replied, their voice full of unspoken affection, "I think I do."

Steve’s heart fluttered at the words. For a moment, he was speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so vulnerable, so open. The truth had always been there, but it had taken this moment—Y/N’s simple words—to bring it fully to the surface.

Y/N’s eyes never left his, and Steve could feel the pull between them, a magnetic connection that neither of them could deny any longer. He swallowed hard, trying to gather his thoughts, but the words still didn’t come.

"You know," Steve said after a beat, his voice a little rougher now, "I’ve always known, you know? About us." He shifted, taking a small step closer. "I guess I just… didn’t know how to say it."

Y/N let out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and genuine. "Steve, you don’t have to say anything. We’ve always known, haven’t we?"

For once, Steve didn’t argue. He didn’t try to push back. He simply nodded, his hand still resting on theirs, fingers gently brushing over their skin. The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with everything they had been too afraid to put into words before.

"You’re right," Steve finally said, his voice softer, but more certain than ever. "We always have."

And in that quiet moment, Steve realized that the bond they shared was enough. It always had been. And maybe that was the way it was always meant to be.

BUCKY

James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes was many things: a soldier, a friend, a complicated man with a past full of shadows.

But to you, he was also something else—someone you couldn't imagine life without. From the moment you had been paired together, it had been as though fate had woven your lives together, one thread at a time. You were his right hand, his left brain, his balance. Wherever Bucky went, you were right there beside him. Whether in the heat of a mission or the quiet moments in between, you were always there, completing him in a way that no one else could.

It had taken some getting used to, the two of you always in sync, always working together. At first, it felt like you were trying to figure out how to best fit into each other’s lives. But over time, you’d learned how perfectly you worked together. You could anticipate his moves before he made them, just as he seemed to know yours. You could finish each other’s sentences, pull off complicated plans with ease, and calm each other’s nerves without a word. You were his anchor, and he was yours.

And it didn’t hurt that Bucky had a way of looking at you that made everything feel just a little more right, even when the world around you was falling apart.

People had noticed, of course. It was only natural for them to assume that you and Bucky were a couple. The way you complemented each other, the way you moved as a unit, made it seem like there was no one else who could possibly take your place. You were always by his side, whether on a mission or at the compound. You worked together seamlessly—more like partners than anything else.

Normally, when people commented on your closeness, you were quick to correct them. You’d laugh it off with a quick “we’re not married” or a wink, making it clear that, while you and Bucky were incredibly close, the title of marriage didn’t quite fit. But today, for some reason, you didn’t correct them. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t feel the need to.

It was a quiet moment in the common room of the compound, the soft hum of the air conditioning blending with the fading sunlight outside. You and Bucky were sitting side by side, poring over the details of an upcoming mission. The tension from the mission was light, just enough to keep your minds sharp, but otherwise, it was an easy rhythm between you both. Your voices were low as you discussed the mission, your conversation punctuated by glances, hand gestures, and quiet chuckles.

The door opened, and Steve and Sam walked in, exchanging a look as they noticed the easy atmosphere between the two of you. Sam couldn’t resist the opportunity for some light-hearted teasing.

“So, when’s the wedding?” he asked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned against the doorframe.

You froze, your words halting as you glanced over at Bucky, your mind instantly on alert. Normally, you would’ve jumped in with a quick correction, a gentle reminder that you weren’t married. But today… you didn’t. Instead, you let the words hang in the air, unspoken.

Bucky’s eyes flicked toward you. He didn’t move at first, simply letting his hand rest on the arm of the couch. There was a moment of hesitation, almost like he was waiting for you to react. His face, usually so controlled, softened just slightly as his gaze lingered on you, as though asking if you would correct them.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you gave him a small, nonchalant shrug, your lips curving into a faint smile, and his eyes softened further, the smallest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t that you didn’t care, it was just that, in that moment, it didn’t matter.

Sam’s grin widened, clearly seeing the tension in the air. “Wait a second. You two aren’t married?”

Steve glanced between the two of you, a knowing look crossing his face. He raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? Because you two look like an old married couple.”

You couldn’t help the playful smirk that tugged at your lips as you glanced at Steve. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms over your chest with a knowing look. “Old married couple?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Steve, you’re the one who’s over a century old. Maybe you should be the one talking about being ‘old.’”

Sam snickered, clearly enjoying your jab, while Steve shot you a mock glare. The twinkle in his eyes, however, betrayed the humour he found in your comment. “Alright, alright,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll give you that one. But seriously, you two are inseparable. It’s like watching a married couple bicker without the commitment.”

You laughed softly, feeling a warm comfort in the back-and-forth. But you didn’t correct them. What Steve didn’t know—and what didn’t need to be said—was that you and Bucky didn’t need to define your connection. It was perfect as it was, no matter what anyone thought.

Bucky gave a low chuckle, eyes still on you, his lips curling into a playful grin. “Guess that makes me the grumpy old husband,” he teased.

You raised an eyebrow, your smile softening as you shook your head. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have it any other way, grumpy old man.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Bucky’s response. “Well, you guys are definitely something,” he said, glancing back and forth between the two of you, clearly sensing the unspoken bond.

You met Bucky’s eyes for a long moment, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to correct them. You didn’t need a title or a label to define what you were. What you had with Bucky was enough. It was perfect just the way it was.

Bucky’s expression softened, his eyes tender as they met yours. Slowly, his hand moved from the armrest to rest lightly on your knee, a simple, quiet gesture that spoke volumes. You didn’t need to say anything. He understood. No words were needed.

Steve and Sam eventually moved on, but Bucky remained still, his hand on your knee, his gaze lingering on you. The quiet felt sacred—like the two of you were the only ones who truly understood what was between you. Then, when the others were far enough away, Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice low and just for you.

“You know,” he murmured, “I’m okay with it. If they think we’re married.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard for a moment. Then, a soft laugh escaped your lips, the warmth in your chest undeniable. “Yeah, me too,” you replied, voice quiet but sincere.

Bucky tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying you, the tenderness never fading. “You sure about that?”

You nodded, smiling gently. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

And in that moment, you realized something important: despite the teasing and the questions from others, it didn’t matter whether you had a title or not. What mattered was that you were together, perfectly matched, right hand and left brain, now and always. You didn’t need anything else.

Bucky’s smile deepened as he leaned back into the couch, hand still resting on your knee. He didn’t need to say anything more. Neither of you did. The silence between you felt comfortable, knowing, and full of understanding. It was everything.

STUCKY

Y/N had always been the glue that held the trio together. Whether it was during intense missions, late-night strategy sessions, or just mundane days spent at the compound, they were never far from Steve and Bucky. The three of them had been inseparable since that first mission together. In the eyes of the world, they were a team—no, more than a team, they were family. But there was something else, something that everyone seemed to pick up on. Their chemistry was undeniable, so much so that everyone assumed they were all married, or at least in some kind of romantic relationship.

It was a regular mission debriefing when it happened. The room was filled with members of the Avengers, a quiet murmur running through the air. Y/N was leaning against the table, half-listening to Steve’s deep voice as he outlined their next mission. Bucky stood next to Y/N, his hand resting casually on their shoulder, their bodies almost fitting into each other like puzzle pieces. They moved together with an ease that was both professional and intimate.

“So, when do you two get married?” Tony Stark’s voice cut through the air, as his eyes flicked between Bucky, Y/N, and Steve. “It’s been long enough, right?”

Steve choked slightly on his coffee, and Bucky’s hand immediately slid off Y/N’s shoulder, though his eyes didn’t leave them. The room fell into an awkward silence, everyone waiting for Y/N to correct the assumption, as they always did.

But this time… Y/N didn’t say a word. Instead, they simply exchanged a look with Steve and Bucky.

Steve froze. His mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of what to say. His blue eyes flickered between Y/N’s face and Bucky’s, confusion mixed with something deeper. It wasn’t anger—just surprise. “Y/N?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not going to correct him?”

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed to stiffen next to them, his gaze intense, his features unreadable. He didn’t say anything either, but the way his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed showed his discomfort. He was used to Y/N setting the record straight immediately, but now… now something had shifted.

Y/N just shrugged nonchalantly, their eyes flicking around the room, before looking back at Steve and Bucky. “I don’t know,” they said, their voice smooth, almost playful. “What if we were married? It’s not like it’d change anything.”

Bucky’s chest tightened at the implication, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Was Y/N trying to push some boundaries? Were they trying to tease them? Or was there something else going on that he wasn’t picking up on? His fingers flexed, itching to reach out and hold them again, but he stayed still, waiting for Steve’s reaction.

Steve blinked, processing the words. His lips curved into a small, unsure smile, though his gaze lingered on Y/N longer than necessary. “I mean…” He looked at Bucky. “I think I’d be okay with that.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, turning to Steve. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low but steady, as if testing the waters.

Steve chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension. “Well, we make it look pretty good.” He threw a glance at Tony. “I think we might be getting ahead of ourselves, though.”

“Yeah, but the way you three are always together?” Tony’s smirk grew wider. “It’s the way you’re always looking at each other, like you can’t get enough of one another.”

Y/N gave a slight, nonchalant shrug. “It’s nothing to make a big deal out of. We’re just really good at working together. You know, complementing each other.”

It was clear to everyone in the room that something deeper was going on, but Y/N wasn’t offering any answers today. Steve and Bucky shared a look, both trying to figure out what had changed, but neither spoke their thoughts aloud.

Bucky cleared his throat. “I guess it’s not that important right now.”

Steve nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Y/N. There was a flicker of something—longing, uncertainty, a question he didn’t have the courage to ask. “Maybe not. But it’s hard to ignore.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the world around them had quieted, the noise fading away. They gave Bucky and Steve a small smile, one that seemed to say everything without words.

Maybe, just this once, the assumption was right.

In the aftermath, as the meeting broke up, Steve and Bucky lingered in the hallway, still thinking about what had just transpired. Neither one of them knew what to make of it, but there was no denying the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them.

The sounds of footsteps echoed around the compound, and both Steve and Bucky found themselves walking in a slow, purposeful silence. Steve, ever the leader, tried to break the tension with a question.

"So..." He trailed off, glancing at Bucky. "What do you think?"

Bucky’s hands were shoved into his pockets, his expression unreadable, but his mind was working at full speed. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen them act like this before.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, still unsure of his own feelings. “Yeah, me neither.” He paused, stealing another glance at Bucky. "But it's not like we haven't been thinking about it... I mean, not just today. It's been... building for a while now, right?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, and he let out a short, frustrated sigh. "I don't like how this feels, Steve. It feels like we're… I don’t know, leaving things unsaid."

Steve nodded, his tone turning more serious. "Yeah. I get it. It’s like Y/N is testing us, pushing us to see how far we’ll go, or maybe they’re waiting for us to make the first move."

Bucky’s expression softened a little as he glanced sideways at Steve. “You think we should?”

Steve’s gaze was steady, his blue eyes searching for something in the moment. “I don’t know, Buck. I don’t want to mess things up with them. With either of you.”

Bucky chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Same here.”

They stood there for a moment, the air between them heavy with possibilities, their silence louder than any words could have been.

Finally, Bucky broke the quiet, his voice low but with a hint of humour. "I think we’ve been dancing around this for too long, don’t you?"

Steve didn’t answer right away, but his lips twitched into a smile, and he let out a short, quiet laugh. "I guess so."

As they continued down the hallway, neither of them had the answers, but one thing was certain—whatever they decided, whatever direction this took them, they were in it together.

And for once, they didn’t need to rush to figure it out.

The days that followed were quiet but charged with anticipation. The trio still worked together, still laughed together, but the dynamic had shifted. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before. Y/N noticed it immediately. There was an unspoken weight between Steve and Bucky that hadn’t been there the day before. It was like they were both holding their breath, waiting for something—waiting for Y/N to make the next move.

At the same time, Y/N found themselves becoming more aware of the subtle way Steve and Bucky looked at them, their touches lingering a little longer, their glances more intense. It was like they were all caught in a game they didn’t know the rules to, and yet, they were all playing it together.

One evening, after a long day of training and strategizing, the three of them found themselves in the lounge, a rare moment of downtime. Y/N was lounging on the couch, flipping through a book, when Steve and Bucky appeared at the door. They both paused for a moment, exchanging a quick look before stepping inside.

“You want some company?” Steve asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it. Something in his tone made Y/N sit up straighter, their heart beating a little faster.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “We were thinking... maybe we should talk.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, closing their book. “Talk about what?”

“About everything,” Bucky said simply. “About us.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, then back at Y/N. “About... what we didn’t say earlier.”

Y/N felt a knot form in their stomach. It was finally happening. The conversation they had been avoiding, the one they knew would come sooner or later. The question was—were they ready to face it? Were they ready to stop dancing around the truth?

Y/N met both their gazes, the air thick with unspoken words. “Alright,” they said, voice steady but their mind racing. “Let’s talk.”

TONY

Tony Stark’s eyes flickered over the headline in the morning paper.

"Stark and Y/N: Power Duo or Power Couple?"

The photo accompanying it was one of you and him walking out of one of his private meetings, side by side, both of you dressed in suits that practically screamed 'we own this city.' You were laughing at something he said, and he was looking at you like the world had stopped spinning just for that moment. The chemistry between you two was palpable, even in still images.

He snorted, holding the paper up to his face and waggling it in front of you, a smug grin plastered on his face. "Well, looks like we’ve made it. The world thinks we’re officially married now. I’m touched. Honestly, it’s a good look. I could get used to the headlines."

You, who had been working on an equation for a new tech prototype, didn’t even look up. You heard the sarcastic tone, but you were deep in thought—nothing new. You were often the one to correct people when they assumed you and Tony were a couple, mostly because the line between work and personal had always been blurry when you two were together. There was no distinction between "partner in business" and "partner in life" for the two of you. People always jumped to conclusions about your relationship. It wasn’t your fault. You just clicked, in every sense of the word.

"Tony," you said absently, adjusting your glasses and scribbling a new set of numbers. "You know we’re not married, right?"

Tony grinned, dropping the paper and leaning back in his chair, spinning it slightly as he watched you. "Well, that’s the thing, isn't it? We are married—in the sense that you and I are practically conjoined twins when it comes to running this whole operation. Hell, you’re probably the only one who can keep up with me. Maybe it’s time we start accepting it."

You sighed, rolling your shoulders back before finally looking up at him. "Yeah, but people will think we are. You’re not going to let them run with that idea, are you?"

Tony paused. His expression softened just a bit, but the cocky grin didn’t quite leave. It was replaced by something more contemplative—still playful, but with a deeper edge. "Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it's about time the world knew how well we work together... in every way."

Your brow furrowed at his tone, unsure of where this was going. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering directly, Tony raised the paper again and pointed to a particular sentence: "Close personal relationships between Stark and Y/N have always been under the radar. Sources say the duo is inseparable, with speculation about a much deeper connection than just business partners." He lowered the paper and looked at you with that familiar smirk.

You stared at it for a moment, your face unreadable, then shrugged. "I mean... we are inseparable. It's true, but that doesn’t mean—"

Tony cut you off with a smile, his usual playful spark flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I think it’s cute they’re so invested in our 'relationship.' I mean, how many people can say they have a 'right hand' like you?" He leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly, his tone teasing but not entirely lighthearted. "Maybe they just don’t understand how perfectly we complement each other. Hell, maybe I’m just tired of having to tell people you're not my wife every time they make that assumption."

You frowned, deciding to just let the whole thing slide for once. You hadn't expected Tony to bring it up like that, but his words made you pause. It was always you and him, always working side by side, tackling problems from every angle. You knew how much he depended on you, how much you relied on him. Maybe it was time to stop fighting the idea.

"Alright, fine. Let them think what they want," you said with a small shrug. You shifted in your seat, leaning back slightly as if to signal the conversation was over. You didn’t want to get caught up in something so trivial. There were bigger things to focus on.

Tony raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your sudden lack of rebuttal. "Wait—hold up. You're giving up that easily? You're not going to correct them this time?"

You gave him a deadpan look, not bothering to hide your exhaustion. "It’s a busy day, Tony. The world can think whatever they want." You returned to your work, hands flying over the keyboard and tablet in front of you.

For a moment, Tony stared at you, a little surprised by your uncharacteristic lack of correction. Then, a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn't one of his usual smirks or playful grins; it was something more... genuine, warmer. A look that lingered for a moment too long. Something unspoken passed between you two—something more than just partnership.

He placed the newspaper down and pushed it aside, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "I guess you’re right. Who needs the press to tell us what we already know, huh?" He sighed, as though coming to terms with something, a little smile still tugging at his lips. "I can’t deny it though. You and me? We’re a hell of a team."

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you felt that familiar weight of his gaze on you. It was comforting, yet there was something a little unsettling about it this time—like he was seeing you in a way he hadn’t before. For once, neither of you felt the need to clarify anything. Maybe you didn’t have to. After all, you knew what you had, and so did he.

Tony tilted his head, just a little, as if testing the waters. "What I’m saying is—if we were a thing, I’d probably get a whole lot of attention. I’m talking movie deals, book deals—maybe even a reality show. You'd love that."

You let out a small laugh, the tension easing between you two. "Yeah, sure. We could call it Partners in Crime."

Tony shot you a look. "I like that. I think it's got legs."

Your smirk mirrored his, and for the first time in a long while, neither of you felt the need to correct the narrative. The world could think whatever it wanted—because what you had went beyond labels, beyond definitions. You were a team, in every sense of the word. No one had to understand it except for the two of you.

But maybe, just maybe, the world was onto something with that "power couple" business.

And Tony... well, he liked the idea more than he let on.

MOONKNIGHT (ALL 3)

It had become a routine.

You’d swing by the museum on your off days, usually bearing coffee or some odd snack Steven had been obsessing over that week. Turkish delights. Jaffa Cakes. One time, he’d mentioned Egyptian honeycakes offhandedly in the middle of a tangent about burial rituals, and you’d spent the whole weekend perfecting a recipe just to see the way his entire face lit up when you handed him the tin. He’d looked at you like you’d brought him treasure pulled straight from a tomb.

It wasn’t official, any of it. Not your presence. Not your role. Not even the dynamic between the four of you. You weren’t listed on any museum roster, and yet most of the staff had assumed you worked there at some point. That’s how often you were around. Always flitting between the break room and the gift shop, trailing behind Steven during lunch, slipping into quiet corners with Marc when the lights went low, waiting in parked cars with Jake in the late hours after the museum closed.

You were Steven’s right hand. Marc’s backup. Jake’s trusted secret. And somehow—despite all of that—never just a friend.

Even Donna had noticed.

Especially Donna.

So when you step into the gift shop today, two warm lattes in hand and your coat still speckled with spring rain, it’s no surprise that she clocks you the moment you walk in. Her eyes flick up from the register with laser precision. Her smirk forms before she even says a word.

Steven doesn’t notice right away. He’s knee-deep in a battle against gravity and a particularly rebellious tower of scarab keychains—the cheap kind that never sell, but Donna stocks religiously like they’re museum relics. His brows are furrowed in concentration, tongue peeking slightly between his lips as he tries to wedge one more into the crooked stack without toppling it.

And then he sees you.

His whole expression transforms in an instant—like someone hit a switch. The anxious fog behind his eyes clears, the corners of his mouth lift, and something warm and open rushes into his face. His posture loosens, shoulders dropping with visible relief.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he breathes, stepping forward like you’re gravity itself, like you’ve pulled him into orbit.

He reaches for the coffee before you’ve even fully held it out. Your fingers brush his—just for a second longer than they need to—and something sparks in the space between you. Not literal, not cinematic. But real. Tactile. A quiet buzz under your skin that feels a little too intimate for something so casual.

“You say that every time,” you tease, your voice soft with fondness.

“Yeah, well. Still true every time,” he murmurs, casting a shy glance your way before sipping gratefully.

You smile, watching him relax around the first mouthful like he’s just been handed peace in a paper cup.

And then, right on cue, Donna calls out from the front counter—arms folded, tone smug as ever. “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Grant. Come to rescue your husband again, have you?”

Steven freezes.

His eyes flick to yours, wide and blinking. You’ve both heard it before. Variations of the same joke. Donna’s favorite little jab. Usually, you roll your eyes. Laugh. Say the line like it’s part of the script.

We’re not married, Donna.

But today…

You don’t.

You take a deliberate sip of your drink. Let the silence stretch. Let it hang between you like tension pulled tight on a string. Then you shrug—easy, unbothered—and smile.

A small one. But telling.

Steven is staring. Absolutely stunned. His mouth hangs open like he forgot how to close it. You can practically see the error message flashing behind his eyes. Donna, meanwhile, blinks. Then cackles.

“About bloody time you two admitted it,” she mutters, ducking behind the register and vanishing with a rustle of receipts and bubble wrap.

What’s left behind is silence. Thick and tangled.

You glance at Steven again. His face is still frozen, but you see it—just a flicker. The tiniest shift in the way he holds his weight. Not outward. Inward.

You know that shift.

Marc.

You’ve never seen the changes in a mirror. Never needed to. It’s in the way they carry themselves. In the silence between one breath and the next. Marc is stillness where Steven flutters. A quiet density that settles into the room like pressure before a storm.

“You’re messing with us,” Marc says, his voice lower now—more grounded, laced with suspicion. There’s a guarded edge to it, like he’s circling the perimeter of something he’s afraid to want. “That what this is?”

You tilt your head slightly. Not backing off. “Am I?”

His gaze sharpens. Marc doesn’t just look at you. He studies you. Like he’s waiting for a tell that doesn’t come. You feel it in your chest—the way he’s bracing himself. Ready to be disappointed. Ready to dismiss it all as a joke or misunderstanding.

But then something shifts again.

You don’t see it. Not exactly. But you feel it, the way the air changes. Cooler. Calmer. Like a slow tide slipping in under the surface of things. A quiet control that curls at the edge of your awareness.

Jake.

You don’t hear him like a voice in your ear, but he’s there. Present in the way Marc’s sharp tension fades into something looser, more confident. In the way your skin prickles with anticipation, like you’re being watched by something careful and amused.

“Careful, cariño,” Jake murmurs in the back of your mind, smooth and velvet-soft, brushing against your thoughts like a gloved hand on bare skin. “We might take that seriously.” (Love)

Your lips curl into a smile before you can stop them.

“I’m not messing with you,” you say at last—quiet, but sure. Unshaken. You turn your attention back to Steven—because you know it’s Steven now, feel it in the nervous flutter of his hands and the way his eyes dart to yours like they’re afraid of what they might find there.

“You’re not?” he asks, voice tight, uncertain.

“I’m not.”

And suddenly, the stillness in the gift shop feels sacred. Like the whole world just took a breath and held it.

Steven looks down at your hand again—at where your fingers had brushed his earlier. He stares like it’s new. Like it means more now. Because it does.

You don’t rush to fill the silence. You let them—all of them—sit with it.

You know they’re talking in there. You can feel it. Quiet conversations in the corners of a shared space. Thoughts layered over thoughts, like echoes in a cathedral. You can’t hear the words, but you sense the shift.

Then Steven clears his throat. It cracks halfway through like a boy trying too hard to sound smooth, and you bite back a laugh.

“…Well,” he says, trying and failing to sound casual, “I suppose we’ll need to plan the honeymoon, yeah?”

You bump his shoulder with yours, grin blooming wider. “Only if it involves not organizing another scarab display.”

That gets him. A laugh bubbles out—relieved, genuine. And it’s not just Steven anymore. You hear the flicker of Marc’s low, reluctant chuckle beneath it. The deeper sound of Jake’s amusement, warm and unspoken.

For just a heartbeat, everything aligns. Like the world settles. Like you all belong—right here, right now.

Exactly as you are.

LOKI

The conference room on the Helicarrier was uncomfortably bright. Stark had insisted on LED renovations — something about reducing eye strain for the “lesser geniuses” who couldn’t handle prolonged screen time. It only made Loki’s headache worse.

He sat at the long metal table, gleaming under the synthetic lights, dressed in his usual sharp green and gold, fingers steepled under his chin in that calculating way that always spelled doom for whoever spoke next. His jaw was tense, his expression unreadable save for the faint twitch of an eyebrow every time someone said something particularly stupid — which, unfortunately, was often.

Beside him, you were the picture of calm efficiency. Eyes flicking across a folder of debrief summaries, pen tapping against your lips in time with the rhythmic bounce of Loki’s foot beneath the table. It was unconscious, the synchronicity between you. Like a song only the two of you could hear.

You were his right hand. His second brain. His strategist, his handler, his first and last sounding board. If Loki was all sharp edges and wicked smirks, you were clean lines and quiet precision. Where he wielded chaos like a weapon, you crafted control like armor.

And everyone knew it.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to assume you were together — romantically, domestically, secretly. The way you moved in step, answered questions he hadn’t spoken aloud, the way he leaned in when you whispered something only for him to nod once and completely pivot strategy without question. There was an intimacy to it. An ease.

So when Maria Hill strode in briskly, dark eyes scanning the room, and said without fanfare, “Do you and your spouse have anything to add, Loki?” — the room didn’t even blink. No one laughed. No one corrected. It was almost routine by now.

Usually, you would. Immediately. With a dry, “We’re not married,” or a breezy, “Just partners — professionally.” You’d always been quick to define the boundary, quick to draw the line before someone else drew it for you.

But this time?

You stayed silent. You raised your eyes from the folder — briefly, steadily — and met Loki’s gaze.

He had turned his head slowly, sharply, like something had snapped into place behind his eyes. Green met yours, narrowed slightly. Waiting. Calculating. And then, as if nothing had happened, you looked away again and flipped to the next page. Loki blinked.

Once.

Twice.

The silence stretched. Stark cleared his throat. Natasha raised an eyebrow. Somewhere across the room, Bruce gave you a confused side-glance, as if you’d forgotten a line in a well-rehearsed script.

Then, softly — almost curiously — Loki leaned in and murmured, “No corrections today?”

You didn’t look at him. “Seemed like a waste of energy.”

A beat. He tilted his head, watching you with the unnerving attentiveness of a predator smelling a shift in the wind.

“Ah,” he said. “Does that mean you’re finally admitting the truth?”

You raised an eyebrow but kept reading. “What truth is that?”

“That we function as one,” Loki said, as if stating a universal constant. “That you complete my sentences, counter my moods, sharpen my plans, and soften my rage. That we are, to everyone with eyes, the picture of unity. Undeniable. Inseparable.”

Now you did look at him. Slowly. Deadpan. “I didn’t say all that.”

“But you didn’t say not that,” he replied smoothly, and his smirk was unmistakable now — amused, delighted, but laced with something else. Something heavier. “Fascinating.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “What is?”

“That I find myself… pleased by your silence.”

“Because you enjoy being right?”

“No,” he said, and the tone shifted. Softer. Lower. Real. “Because it means I might not be the only one who wants them to keep assuming.”

The air thickened. Your pen stopped tapping.

You stared at him — really stared — and for a moment, everything else in the room seemed to fall away. The murmuring agents, the flicker of the screen, the dull hum of machinery behind the walls. None of it mattered.

“…Loki,” you murmured, mouth dry, “are you flirting with me during a debrief?”

He didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned closer, voice a velvet purr meant only for you. “No, darling. I’m proposing.”

Your breath hitched.

You choked.

Across the table, Stark muttered, “Jesus Christ, just kiss already.” Natasha snorted. Bruce was too afraid to look up.

And then, as if on cue, Thor’s booming voice entered the scene, shaking the air as he strolled into the room with his usual easy confidence. He had clearly just finished with another one of his ‘heroic duties,’ his cape sweeping behind him in grand fashion. As he caught sight of the two of you, his face split into a grin.

“Aha!” Thor boomed, his voice filling the room. “I knew it! Well done, my dear brother!” He slapped a heavy hand on his brother’s back with enough force to make the chair creak.

Loki winced slightly, not from the slap but from the sheer volume. Still, he didn’t move from your side, even as his older brother all but towered over the table, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You finally put a ring on it, eh?” Thor continued, a gleam in his eye as he turned to you. “I always thought you two were too inseparable to just be ‘partners.’”

The room went still. Stark, still reeling from his own comment, looked at the two of you in a mix of disbelief and awe.

Loki didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, eyes locked with yours once more — no trace of discomfort, only that familiar spark of something deeper. His lips twitched into a small, private smile.

“Seems they already assume we’re married, brother,” Loki said smoothly, addressing Thor, but his gaze never left you.

“Hmm,” Thor mused, scratching his chin. “Well, I do believe that means congratulations are in order.” He raised his mug of ale, as if toasting to something grand, his grin widening. “Finally, Loki, you’ve found someone who can match your brilliance.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling slightly. “And who says I’m matching him, Thor? It might be the other way around.”

Loki’s smirk deepened as he raised an eyebrow in mock affront. “What’s that, darling? Have I been upstaged by my own right hand?”

You chuckled softly, turning to him with a look that was both teasing and warm. “Oh, Loki, you know better than anyone that we’re the perfect balance.”

Thor clapped Loki on the back again, a booming laugh filling the air. “Ah, partner banter! I shall leave you two to your plans, but know this, Loki — I support this union fully.” He paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Just don’t make it too official before I get to witness the wedding!”

As Thor left the room, Tony turned to you both with a smirk. “Well, that was a show.”

Loki shot a glance at you, that unspoken communication between you two louder than anything he could say. A brief moment of pure amusement flickered in his eyes before he straightened his posture and addressed the room again.

“Let them assume,” Loki said, voice cool but with a subtle warmth at its edges. “For once, they might be right.”

And you, for once, didn’t argue. You only smiled — slow, warm, and undeniably dangerous. Let them assume.

They wouldn’t be wrong.

#Marvel #marvel fandom #reader insert #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #steve x reader x bucky #tony stark x reader #tony x reader #moonknight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #loki x reader

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theshamelesssimp · 1 month ago

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Having a bad day, read x reader! Having a good one, read x reader! Bored, read x reader!

All in all, live, laugh, love x reader!

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whimsyfaes · 8 months ago

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Yes please Thor 1 Loki smut….maybe with plus size reader 👀👀👀

Your wish is my command 😈

Devotion

Summary: After returning from a vigorous battle, Loki finds solitude in your welcoming company. Tending to his minor wounds, your hands are not the only thing that gives him pleasure that night.

Pairing: Thor 1 Loki x f!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: plus size reader, body worship, breast fucking, no use of y/n, praising, mentions of wounds, pre-established relationship, usage of old norse sayings

Music that inspired the writing

Smells of various floral arrangements filled the air with an intoxicating aroma, the room's golden hue glittering against their petals. You have prepared the room for your lover's return from battle, the brutal onslaught lasting for many suns and moons. It had begun to weigh heavily on your mind, each night causing you to lose more and more sleep from anxiety. But you had to remind yourself that your significant other was not a mere mortal, but a GOD of pure strength and cunning wit. It would take a lot more than a mere blade to bring him down to lay upon the earth.

He was unstoppable.

Heavy gilded doors began to slowly open as you turned towards its sound, your heart racing in your caged chest wildly in anticipation. There, your beloved stood with sweat upon his forehead, his usual clean leather attire covered in dust and crimson shades of his enemies essence. A small cut formed on his upper left brow, his raven short locks tousled around his chiseled features as he released heavy breaths. It made your breath halt in your lungs, his lithe form moving towards you in a graceful motion.

" Elskuga ... " ( old norse for lover )

You could not hold back your wide smile, hands outstretching in his direction before finding home in his damp hair. His soft lips trailed along your heated cheek, nostrils flaring while giving a pleasing sigh in relief.

" Have you missed me? ", he murmured sensually, your fingers moving to cup both sides of his pale face while gazing in those eyes that haunted you for days.

" More than you know... "

Your brows furrowed with concern from the cut upon his forehead, a tender finger lifting to graze along it curiously. You could've sworn you heard a small hiss in response, his eyes never leaving you as you gazed him over.

" Come, let me tend to your wounds my love. "

Loki held back his protest with self control, settling upon a fur covered chair with a gentle huff. Your smile never faltered as you began to brush a damp cloth against his wound, blood staining the white cotton with each motion. It reminded you of the many times you would clean his cuts from your adventures as children, always after a long day of rough housing with Sif and the Warriors Three. You were often the healer of the group, Thor insisting that it was your path in life. Perhaps it was, though you would rather join them on their outlandish escapades.

However now you have found purpose in the arts of mending.

" Are all these flowers for me? "

A small giggle escapes your lips, his head lifting to gaze into your eyes with mischief.

" Only if you came back victorious, which you have definitely proven to be true. "

The Prince released a small hum in approval, a hand lifting to gently graze along your thigh against the silk of your dress.

" And would you have done the same if I came back defeated? "

You pause your movement, eyes glittering with playfulness before finishing cleaning his cut.

" We all know that would have not happened, my love. "

You both chuckle in earnest, his smile causing your heart to clench in your chest with pure adoration.

Loki gazes upon you as if you were a beacon a light, entranced by your beauty and utter kindness. The two of you haven’t engaged in this romantic relationship until the year prior, your hearts intertwining the moment you confessed your love to him. Since then you have been inseparable, and of course this spurred on gossiping within the palace's halls of the scandal between a prince and a commoner. But neither of you seemed to find a care in the world, often blocking out those whispers with shared kisses and giggles in front of their stares.

Love often found it's way.

" Ek ann þér .. " ( I love you )

Those words slithered from his lips with a lustful tone, the verbiage causing a heat to stir deep within your belly. It was a siren calling, your body moving to settle upon his lap with a soft sigh in acceptance. You needed this more than anything, your body craving for his touch since the moment he left Asgard's walls nights before.

And perhaps, he needed this more than you.

" Take me, my love... "

It was all he needed to hear, a pained gasp emitting before crashing his lips against your own. He was starving for you, tender hands lifting to trail along your curvy frame with purpose. Every touch caused a hitch to form past your lips, the noise swallowed as he drove deeper with his tongue. Loki settles his hands to cup your tender breasts with vigor, hips pulsing upwards as you both moan heatedly in response.

" - ... Loki ... "

You pull away for air with short pants, his mouth slack whilst moving to ghost along your sensitive throat wantonly. You could smell the dirt and grim upon his leather attire, nostrils flaring with the intoxicating aroma. It was causing your mind to melt within your skull, unaware of the sudden change in movement before you were snapped back into reality from the gentle lay upon the bed. He wanted to absolutely devour you, pupils blown from his arousal as he panted above your frame.

" I need you ... Need you ... ", he begged under his breath, shaking hands moving frantically to pull upon your silk intricate dress.

He needed this off you now, as if you would suddenly disappear if he wasn't fast enough. You arched your back to give him better access, the fabric unveiling your gorgeous form for his eyes to swallow greedily. To him, you were a GODDESS, each dip of your body and each little plump area a pure masterpiece. His hands couldn't help but softly kneed everywhere, to the softness of your hips to the roundness of your belly.

Loki released a gentle groan in anticipation, your breaths sounding lightly as you gazed with pure adoration. Your long locks tousled around your features like a halo, a perfect fitting for an angel such as yourself as he thought to himself. The both of you could stay this way for eternity, never once hearing the outside world. Only the two of you, basked in each other's love.

If only it were that simple.

Your needy whines snaps the prince back to reality, his jaw slack as he tenderly massages your chest with a pleased moan from the fullness. It feels divine, each motion causing your heart to flutter in response. But you wanted to feel MORE of him, and with this thought your hands trail downward towards his trousers in hunger.

His eyes snap in your trailing, chest heaving with excitement before lifting to your blown pupils with uncertainty.

" A-Are you sure? You don't... "

A small hush escapes you, fingers finding their purpose to dip within leather. You grasp his heated manhood with a gentle embrace, his lips parting to emit a wanton moan.

" I want this more than anything, my love.."

It was all he needed to hear, that confirmation. Those words were his utter demise, as if a mask cracked and began to unleash his true potential. A guttural groan escapes him as he quickly moves to unveil his cock, your hands still grasping it's hardness as it twitches with excitement. You guide it to lay between your heavy breasts, his back arching forward while pushing the twin flesh together.

" ... Open your mouth .. "

Gods you could die right here and now, your brows knitting together in concentration as you open your plump lips willingly for his pleasure. Tonight, this was for him, all this pent up energy from his previous battle to all be released. The Prince couldn't be more lucky to have you in his stead.

" That's a good girl... just like that... "

With a twist of his hips, Loki begins to thrust between the mounds of flesh with slow sensual movements. The tip of his cock brushed along your bottom lip gently, your tongue occasionally popping out to catch a taste of pre-cum that dabbled on the head. He was so beautiful above you, once slick raven hair now tousled around his flushed features. His mouth slightly open with tight brows in concentration. He can't get enough of you, each roll of his hips causing a gentle moan with a clench of his jaw.

" So beautiful - ... f-fuck... "

It was not often you heard the Prince of Asgard say such vulgar words, but when you did you could not help but smirk in victory. You, of all people were bringing royalty to fall upon his own knees.

That was all you needed to feel that success.

Your hands moved to wrap your fingers around his wrist encouragingly, his hips moving more into a frantic pace.

" That's it my love... I got you ... ", you whisper softly, your eyes never once leaving his as your mouth begins to suckle upon the tip of his reddening cock. He's an utter mess, small whimpers escaping him as the base of his member is nestled between your tits. His hands are almost painfully grasping you, not that you mind of course but actually edge him on. Your cheeks hollow to suction more firmly, each roll of his hips driving the tip deeper into your willing mouth.

" I-I'm gonna ... ", he cannot breathe as he snaps his hips with a final thrust, body convulsing with a loud wanton whimper as he spills his seed on your plush tongue. You've missed this taste, a moan of your own emitting while you continue to suckle every last drop. His fingers are digging into your breasts, head rolling forward with heavy breaths. He is utterly spent before you, a smile forming on your used lips before releasing with a lewd pop.

" Norns -... "

It was then that he pulls away from you, finally falling to lay on top of your soft frame with heavy gasps in relief. Your hands lift to brush lovingly in his short locks, the side of his cheek resting on your chest to hear the quickness of your heartbeat.

The Prince has found solace in your company, and that thought alone was enough to send you into pure contentment.

#loki x reader #x reader #reader insert #tom hiddleston x reader #x reader smut #reader smut #loki smut #i hope i did this justice #its honestly one of my favs ive done #plus size reader #Loki #mischieffaewrites

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 11 months ago

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can you please do loki x reader new kink exploration?

.⋆｡Playtime｡⋆.

Loki x plus size reader

Sex with Loki isn’t boring but it isn’t exactly spicy either and you’re craving something more

Warnings: breeding kink, ownership kink, smut, mentions of other kinks, fluff, established relationship, rough sex, no real foreplay, implication of the beginning of a d/s dynamic, safe word mentioned WC: 1.4k

6k Follower Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Oh come on! We all saw the way he was when we handcuffed him, Loki is kinky as hell and you cannot tell me that you two just do missionary shit!” Natasha’s words were slurred, courtesy of the half dozen mimosas she had devoured before her meal had actually arrived.

Heat radiated off your cheeks though it wasn’t from the alcohol. “So what if we do? It’s fun!” You insisted, making Wanda roll her eyes.

“You’ve been together for almost a year and you’re saying that you haven’t even dabbled in tying him up?” You shook your head, “Tying you up?”

“No! Ok, we haven’t done anything,” you lowered your voice and glanced around the bustling restaurant, “kinky per se. But c’mon it took us years to even admit we liked each other and over two months to even get to heavy petting. We just move slowly is all.”

Natasha scoffed. “Yeah right. That man wants to utterly destroy you, he’s just being sweet because you don’t have as much experience as him. He doesn’t want to scare you off. If you want to get properly down and dirty with the man, you have to go to him first.” She said matter-of-factly as she took another swig of what was now just champagne.

You looked to Wanda for backup but she just shrugged. “She’s right. You have to make the first move.”

“But where do I even start?”

They looked at each other before turning back to you. “Tumblr.”

——————

You wondered if they ever got tired of being right. Pet play, CNC, BDSM, anal, the world was laid out in front of you and all you had to do was to find one (or two) that you really liked and beg your godly boyfriend to indulge you.

Your laptop was propped up on a pillow in front of you, a little notebook beside it that you were using to jot down anything you found even vaguely interesting. The list continued to grow as you scrolled but nothing had jumped out at you as something you desperately had to try.

“What are you up to my love?” Loki slid onto the bed beside you, his lips immediately finding your cheek. You cringed as a drop of sweat landed on your bare shoulder.

“Just doing some research. How was your workout?” He rolled his eyes and snuggled closer, his body slightly warmer than its usual icy temperature. A slim arm wrapped around your waist, his fingers just barely grazing the swell of your ass. You shifted your hips so that his palm dropped further, now fully cupping your backside. His lips curved upwards against your temple.

“I would much rather have worked out with you, love.” You shivered as his voice dropped and he squeezed your ass. “Especially when you look so delectable in this thin top.” The tip of his nose brushed against the strap of your tank top which you had paired with some thin panties.

“You are insatiable,” You suddenly smirked, turning your head so your lips were barely touching, “my king.” The last syllable had barely passed through your teeth then Loki’s eyes darkened and his lithe body tensed around you. Blunt nails dug into your ass as he held his breath for a moment, before he released it with a growl.

“You’re playing with fire, little one.” Your heart skipped a beat.

“Then it’s a good thing I have you to cool me down.” Your tongue darted out and you quickly licked at his lips before Loki could digest your words.

“Oh you naughty thing.” Your laptop and notebook were shoved to the side as your boyfriend pushed you onto your back, quickly settling himself between your soft thighs, pinning you to the bed. You couldn’t help but internally preen at the god’s wavering composure. “You do not know what you’re asking for.”

Your hands trailed up the length of his back, dragging his tight black shirt up with them. “Oh but I think I do.” The way he loomed over you, the savage look in his eyes, his heaving chest, his weight keeping you down. You knew exactly what you wanted at that moment.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and tugged him against your core, the bulge of his cock knocking against your covered clit. “I want to be owned by you. Entirely.”

“But do you know what that truly means?” His hands creeped down to your hips, grabbing them with greater force than he had ever used on you before. You gasped and arched your back but he quickly pushed you back down. “It means that you’re mine, every single piece of you.” His fingers curled into the top of your panties and tugged them down with a swift roll of his shoulder.

“Loki.” He tsked, his shirt now discarded.

“Your thoughts will be mine. Your body. Your soul. Your pleasure” Your shirt soon followed, discarded on your bedroom floor then his shorts. An evil look creeped onto his face. “I will be your king, your god. You will take no other ever again.”

“Please.” You felt like you could barely breathe, the weight of his words falling heavily on your chest.

His cock throbbed against your lips, slowly becoming coating in your wetness. “This perfect, tight cunt is mine to do with what I wish.” His hips rocked back, letting his cock drop down to your entrance. Your eyes widened and you clutched at his forearms.

The thick head pushed against your opening, sending a pleasant burn through your pelvis. “If you wish for me to stop at any time, just say so.” His voice softened just enough to urge you to acknowledge him before you were plunged into his possession. You nodded quickly and raised your hips from the bed as you attempted to suckle him in.

“Mine.” He snarled, and without any warning, buried himself to the hilt, forcing a scream of pleasure from deep inside you. You clutched at the hard muscles of his back, desperate for any way to keep yourself grounded as he pulled out half-way and then slammed back in.

“Fuck, I should’ve done this the moment I met you. Wasted too much time not buried in this cunt, not claiming your womb.” You gasped, your pussy clenching down on his thick cock. Loki’s lip curled up. “Oh you liked that didn’t you? You want me to put you to use.” His hips tilted, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go fuzzy.

“To breed you.” Your moans bounced off your bedroom walls, spurring the god to thrust into you even harder. “To show the entire world that you’re fucking mine. You belong to a god, you carry his seed in your belly. Who am I to ever deny you?”

He grabbed your wide hips and leaned back onto his heels. Your eyes rolled back as his tip suddenly slammed against your cervix and his heavy balls slapped against your ass. “I’ll fill you every chance I get, just to make sure it takes and you know that you are mine forever.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, surely drawing blood, but you were too lost in pleasure to even care. Your body drew tight as you found it harder and harder to breathe. “I’ll give you what you want, little one. I’ll give you everything.”

“Loki!” Your legs locked around his hips, forcing him all the way into your spamming cunt as you finally came. He groaned and dropped his head to the crook of your neck. Shallow thrusts worked you through the powerful orgasm as he raced towards his own.

“All mine.” His teeth sank into your shoulder as an icy chin spread through your stomach. You could feel his cock twitching deep within you even through the fog of ecstasy.

Loki slumped down onto your chest, finally releasing your hips as he softened inside you.

“Holy shit.” You giggled breathlessly. “Knew that list was a good idea.”

As gently as he could, your boyfriend pulled out of you and flopped onto his back, dragging your spent body on top of him. “What list?” He mumbled into your hair in between soft kisses.

“Made a list of kinky stuff I wanna try.”

“Oh? And what else was on that little list of yours?” You propped your chin up on his sternum.

“Knife play?” Loki groaned and tugged you closer.

“Gods what have I gotten myself into?” He laughed.

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simplyholl · 1 year ago

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The Bet

Summary: Loki has an interesting punishment when you lose a bet.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Vibrating panties.

A/N: Inspired by that scene in The Ugly Truth.

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“You can’t be serious.” You take the garment from Loki, wishing you could smack the smirk off his face. “You lost the game. So you have to wear them.” He explains, crossing his arms as he leans against your doorway.

“I’ve never lost a game of Uno in my life. You were cheating.” You exaggerate, trying to talk your way out of it. “Put them on. I’ll know if you don’t.” He walks away, leaving you alone.

You and Loki were always competitive with each other, placing stupid bets on frivolous games. Two days ago, you were playing Uno when Loki wanted to make the game interesting. You had beaten him three times already, so you thought you had it in the bag.

If you win Loki had to spend an entire day doing your chores naked. He hated menial tasks, oftentimes he would pay someone else to do his cleaning and laundry. So you knew he would hate it. As for the naked part, you had eyes. You might not get along all the time, but Loki was beautiful.

You had let your dishes pile up, your laundry basket was overflowing, your floors were sticky. You had been busy with missions and Nick Fury made you attend meetings all week so you were behind.

Loki smirked when you told him what you wanted if you won. “If you want to see me naked, you only have to ask.” The devilish smile that accompanied his quip made your skin heat up from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“If I win, you will wear the clothing of my choosing to the meeting on Friday.” You accepted, he would probably make you wear a burlap sack or a silly costume. You weren’t easily embarrassed, so whatever he picked wouldn’t be an issue. Fury would be mad with your theatrics, but you had been doing his bidding all week. He owed you.

The game had been going well. You had three draw four cards in your possession, using them strategically. Then the unthinkable happened. Loki won, placing a red card with a number two on top of your card. He had to have cheated somehow. He didn’t even know how to play until a few days prior when Steve taught him.

With only seconds to spare, you slid your panties down your legs replacing them with the pair Loki gave you. They were black and lacy. You were a little unsure why he wanted you to wear these specific panties. He had to be up to something. He wasn’t the God of Mischief for nothing.

You put them on, feeling something hard under the fabric. You straighten your sun dress and fluff your hair. You look at your phone, you were already late. You didn’t have time to take them off and inspect them. You weren’t a sore loser either, so you would wear them to the meeting.

You rushed down the hall to the elevator. You get on with three others, from their white coats you could tell they worked in the labs. You waited impatiently as the elevator stopped on the tenth floor letting them off. You were five minutes late now. You dreaded whatever smart ass remark Fury would have for you.

Finally, the elevator stopped on the sixth floor. You rushed out, running down the hall to the conference room. Fury stopped speaking to turn and greet you. “It’s about damn time.” He said, returning his attention to the smart board behind him.

You looked around the table for Natasha. She always saved a seat for you. But on her left sat Thor and Loki was on her right. The only empty seat was beside him. You curse him in your head as you walk around the table to take your seat. You wonder how he got Thor to switch from his usual seat beside Steve.

Fury starts talking again, calling on Tony to explain some new technology he was working on for all of you. You try to hide your yawn behind your hand. This stuff was always so boring. Why did you have to be here while they discussed how cool they thought this was?

You try to keep your eyes from fluttering shut, afraid you would fall asleep. A small vibration from your panties knocked the tiredness right out of you. It caught you off guard, but it was tolerable. You turn your head to look at Loki who is staring straight ahead, completely focused on Fury.

That little shit. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you, so you raised your hand asking a question and pretending you couldn’t feel yourself growing wetter. You sneak another glance at him, his prominent nose scrunching as he keeps his eyes forward. The vibration speeds up once, twice, three times. You ball your hands into fists, nails digging into your palm.

The device rolls in waves against you, brushing your clit. You bite your lip until you taste blood to keep from making a sound. It hums rhythmically, each pulse bringing you closer to orgasm. You can’t hear what Bruce says when he stands to pass out folders filled with the layout of Tony’s design.

He hands it to you, expecting you to take it from him. But you can’t, one hand is wrapped around the side of your chair, the other is clawing at Loki’s leg silently pleading with him to stop this madness. When you don’t reach for the folder, Bruce looks you over, taking in your frazzled appearance and the bead of sweat sliding down your neck. He mouths “You okay?” You nod a little too quickly and he sets the folder in front of you.

Loki opened your folder, bringing out the page Fury was discussing. His gaze lingers on your face for a second, and you think he’s finally satisfied and going to turn it off. The glimmer of mischief shines in his eyes as he returns his full attention to Fury. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not yell in frustration. Then you realize his momentary kindness was only to distract you.

The vibration hits its peak, and you lose control. Your fist slams on the table. All eyes are on you. “Do you have something you’d like to add?” Fury asks, assuming your interruption was about the stupid technology you had no idea about. The ripples flutter against your clit, your lower stomach clenching with the onset of orgasm.

“Yes!” You stand up surprising yourself and Loki who lifts a brow. You can’t think clearly so you hope walking will help. You pace the area behind Natasha, every lift of your leg moves your panties, causing the vibe to reach new angles. “I love this! I love it! I lo-ove it!” Your voice raises a few octaves. Tony smiles, excited someone is showing interest in his hard work besides Bruce and Fury.

“This is the kind of enthusiasm I expect from the rest of you.” He says pointing an accusing finger at the others. “What do you love about it?” He prompts you. You stop behind Loki’s chair, he turns to watch the show you were putting on. You clutch the top of his chair, as the vibration sends you over the edge.

“It’s the best! God, the best!” You look in Loki’s eyes as your legs tremble. “Oh fuck! It’s incredible!” Tony is beaming, hands coming together to clap. “Thank you! This is the kind of reaction I was wanting.” The vibration finally stops, as you wobble a few steps to your chair. Loki gives you his hand to help you sit down. You reluctantly take it, settling back in.

The meeting was finally over five minutes later. Everyone rushed to leave except for you and Loki. “Asshole.” You playfully slap his arm. He stands, gathering his phone and folder. “If you need assistance cleaning up that mess you made” He gestures to your legs, “I’d be happy to help.” He flashes that irresistible smile before leaving you to recover in the conference room.