#hopeless750celebration

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

It’s Not a Secret I Try to Hide

For my 750 Follower Celebration, @darealbellabelleoftheball asked me to write something for Loki with the prompt: “You make me nauseated.” “It’s called love.” I was stumped for a bit on how to get this to work, but I’m pretty content with what I ended up coming up with! I hope y’all enjoy!

Somehow, over the year-long period that you had spent living and working with the Avengers, Loki had cemented himself firmly into your heart.

It had started slowly. The first time you had noticed him was when he kept the door from swinging into your unobservant face when you were leaving a mission briefing, not even looking at you as he gripped onto the glass before stalking away. The second was when you had grumbled to Cap loudly about how your favorite blanket for couch snuggling was ruined by blood from a distracted Bucky, and two more replaced it the very next day. When you’d asked the others about it, they claimed to have assumed FRIDAY ordered it for you.

But you knew better.

Because along with the small gestures here and there, you had noticed the slight shift in his behavior around you. The looks that he gave your male coworkers when they drew too close to you for his liking, or how close he would stick to you during jobs that got a bit dicey and dangerous. He had blocked several bullets for you on more than one occasion.

So you had made the first move, deciding that he wasn’t going to, one evening when you were watching television while he was reading beside you.

“You like me,” you stated boldly, poking him in the arm.

He quirked an elegant brow, not even looking up from his book. “I tolerate you more than the others.”

You shifted and pulled your knees beneath you, sitting on them and facing him fully. Your finger never stopped poking his impressively firm bicep. “No, you like me.”

With a heavy, exasperated sigh, he closed his book and placed it on the coffee table that supported his crossed feet before leaning back again. “What are you implying?”

His pupils expanded to cover most of the dazzling green of his eyes when your hand reached out to settle over his collar-bones, fingertips grazing over the smooth column of his throat. You leaned forward, supporting yourself with your other hand on his thigh, drawing close until there was only a breath separating you. “You’re attracted to me, you enjoy my company. You want to kiss me.”

His eyes flicked between yours before dropping to your slightly pouted lips, indecision warring plainly in his gaze. But you could wait all evening, poised above him, offering yourself up to him for the taking. Thankfully, he didn’t make you wait long, tilting his chin to brush your lips together in an impossibly tender kiss that chipped away at the outermost layer of emotional protection around your fragile heart.

And with each lingering touch on your arm in passing, each heated look dragging down your body from across a room, and each stolen kiss when you were alone, he worked his way into your heart and soul until there was no use denying it.

Now if only he would admit that he held the same feelings in return.

“You love me,” you teased in a sing-song, pecking him on the cheek before stepping around him to grab your water bottle from where he had placed it down after wordlessly refilling it for you.

He glanced around to confirm your solitude before hooking his arm around your waist, tugging you toward him so that you were pressed up against the length of his lean body. With the barest of smiles cracking the perpetually apathetic expression that masked his handsome face, he countered with his typical reply of, “I tolerate you.”

Your hand stretched across his back, delighting in the flex of his muscles beneath the warm, soft cotton of his black t-shirt. The other rubbed the cold metal bottle against the dip of his spine, earning you a quiet relieved groan. When your head tucked beneath his chin to nuzzle your cheek into his chest, his fingers tightened around you, drawing you impossibly closer. “Well, I love you.”

“As you should,” he hummed, clearly pleased. His lips pressed against the top of your head in a soft kiss that you honestly didn’t expect, considering you were quite sweaty from a recent sparring session with the god holding you captive in his loving embrace.

You slapped his chest, pulling yourself from his embrace to take a long pull of icy cold water courtesy or your Frost Giant. “You’ll admit it one day!”

Perhaps the Christmas season would draw the warm-fuzzies out of your chilled sweetheart?

You rolled over in his arms on the couch, carefully arranging your legs between his and drawing your arms up to prop yourself up onto his chest. He dutifully repositioned the blanket over your bodies, letting his hands settle on your hips once his task was complete.

“May I help you?” His head tilted to the side against the arm of the couch to better take in the thoughtful expression that had you biting on your bottom lip gently.

Your hands tugged lightly at his raven hair that tumbled over his shoulders. “This is nice. You, me, a cheesy Christmas movie, cozy blanket, snow falling outside over the twinkling New York City skyline. I love it. I love you.”

His practiced indifference didn’t crack beyond the warmth shining in his eyes. “It is quite enjoyable.”

You deflated, hands going limp over his shoulders. “Enjoyable?”

“Is that not what you desired to hear?” The lazy circles he had been drawing on your hips stopped and he tensed beneath you.

You climbed off of him, throwing the blanket away with a huff, stalking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to stare out at the bustling city beneath you. You had been trying and trying for over to a year to peel away the complicated layers of his armor to get at the real man underneath, and he just wouldn’t give. You didn’t need sweeping declarations of love from the man, grand gestures or lavish gifts. Just something to show he cared. You were only human.

“Have I upset you?” he asked, his footsteps echoing over the smooth floors to bridge the distance between you. The heat of his body radiated against your back, scented with pine and male musk that made your knees weaken at the delicious familiarity of it.

“Cut the shit, Loki,” you snapped, your withheld emotions boiling over suddenly and without warning, turning to pin him down with the full force of your glare. “You’re playing at this scared, hesitant game with me and I’m tired of it. I love you, and you know it. I’m never happier than when I’m with you, even if we’re in the middle of a warzone kicking ass and getting ours handed to us. So until you decide that you’re allowed to have emotion, and show emotion when we’re alone, you can spend your evenings by yourself.”

He stopped your dramatic exit with a hand wrapped gently around your wrist. You didn’t turn around to face him, forcing him to step around so that his torso encompassed your field of vision. He was going to have to work for it. “I enjoy your company.”

You shifted your weight to your back foot, popping your hip and shaking your head as you stared up at him with narrowed eyes. “More.”

It was like you had asked him to relinquish all of his daggers, he looked so frustrated. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand before dropping it to hang loosely at his side. “I am quite fond of you.”

Your finger dug into the knit sweater over his sternum. “Try harder.”

An unbelievable vulnerability slowly came over his face, starting in the downward tilt of his brows to the tightness of his clenched jaw. He brushed his hands down your arms to lace your fingers together in the chilled chasm between you. His deep exhaled breath washed across your face in a cloud of peppermint and chocolate. “You have made my days spent in this infernal tower tolerable. I find myself longing for you as soon as I wake, and yearning for you when we are apart. There is nothing akin to the balm that your touch provides on my skin, and I long to spend eternity at your side.”

It took every ounce of willpower that you had within you to not tear up at his words. The corners of your eyes pricked with heat and you tapped your foot on the floor, willing the stone-cold badass inside of you to take control. Your accusatory finger curled along with the rest of your hand over where his heart beat the strongest, fast and heavy as he waited for your reaction with bated breath.

Once you had regained some semblance of control, you smiled, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and lean your forehead against his. “You love me.”

He rolled his eyes, but his hands still held onto your hips to steady you against him nonetheless. “You make me nauseated.”

You pecked a quick kiss on the corner of his upturned lips. “It’s called love.”

~

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian​ @toozmanykids​ @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius​ @sabine-leo​ @lovesmesomehiddles​ @silverswordthekilljoy​

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Congratulations on your milestone! Can I get #1 with Loki? Perhaps a bit of angst but leads to fluffy smut. Maybe the reader realizes her feelings after seeing him being flirty and affectionate with someone else and when he confronts her for acting differently, avoiding him and whatnot, she kind of loses it and just blurts it out and he responds with frustration as well. Sorry if that's too detailed but something along the lines of that is fine too.

Once again I have proven that I can’t write anything short. I think I managed to get everything you wanted in this, so I hope that you like it! Thank you so much for the congratulations and the request!

There is smut at the end of this, so y’all have been warned. Oh, yeah, there’s some language, too.

Brawn Over Brains

You would think that the most annoying sound in the world was something obvious, like nails on a chalkboard, someone chewing with their mouth open, or maybe the weird slightly out of tune humming that Sam does when you’re in a bad mood just to grind your gears.

But you were proven incorrect when the grating, too-loud cackle of the newest recruit to the Avengers assaulted your ears. You cut your eyes at her, feeling your blood absolutely boil in your veins at her fawning and throwing herself at Loki. He looked quite pleased with her attentions, all puffed out chest and handsome grins as they chatted in the corner.

You slammed your hand down a little too hard at the display they were putting on, accidentally forcing the knife through the onion you were cutting so hard that it split the wooden cutting board in two. Shit. 

“What’d that poor cutting board ever do to you?” Sam asked, coming up beside you and carefully taking the knife out of your white-knuckled grip.

You blamed the onion for the heat stinging at the corners of your eyes, gritting your teeth. “Just got distracted for a minute by Miss Thang over there, batting her eyelashes at Loki like he’s a piece of meat.”

“Oh, jealous, are we?“

You weren’t jealous, that was absurd. Sure, you had grown close to Loki ever since Stark had plucked you from a cell deep in an underground Hydra base. Your enhanced strength had proven you an effective member of the Avengers, and you had been drawn to the intimidating God of Mischief. Both mistrusted at first, but valuable for what you could do for others, paying for your position with a pound of flesh. 

He was attractive, yes, so much so that the very thought of his emerald eyes locking onto yours made your pulse thrum beneath your skin. But it was more than that. He had a sharp wit and a sharper tongue, keeping you on your toes. You both thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company, even if it was spent in silence while he read and you fiddled about on your phone. He was your best friend, at the very least, and lately you had hoped that that could grow into something more.

But Miss Perfect, with her hourglass figure, shiny hair, and big brown eyes, had swooped in and set her sights on him. She flirted with him with an ease that you could never match. Plus, she was several years your junior. You couldn’t compete with that. He certainly didn’t seem like he minded the attention. Who were you to get in the way of a budding romance?

You wiped your hands roughly on a dishtowel, shaking your head. “Hell no. He’s free to do whatever, and whomever, he wants.”

You could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on your back as you stormed out, but you couldn’t care less.

It was easy enough to navigate Stark Tower without running into either of them. You knew Loki’s schedule like the back of your hand, since you would normally go about your days together. Now that the new girl was trailing after him like a lost puppy, you just switched your routine around a bit. Trained a little later, ate a little earlier, and generally used the buddy system to ensure that he couldn’t catch you off guard.

But after missions, you always found it difficult to sleep. The adrenaline seemed to take ages to fully leave your system, even as lead weighed down your limbs and bruises pockmarked your skin. It wasn’t anything that a bit of a midnight snack couldn’t fix, though. And if it wouldn’t fix it, it wasn’t as if ice cream ever hurt anybody. Except your waistline, but you’d spent all day kicking ass. You’d earned it.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Loki’s low voice coming from the shadows of the living room made you shriek and jump in shock, dropping your spoon. You put a hand on your chest, as if it could calm your suddenly racing heartbeat.

“Fuck! I’m going to put a bell around your neck,” you hissed, dropping your head to your chest as you took in deep breaths.

“That is one of the more interesting Midgardian fashion suggestions you’ve given me.”

You dropped your now-dirty spoon into the sink, grabbing another from the drawer without answering him. All you needed was the ice cream…

Of course Loki had planted himself in front of the refrigerator, arms crossed over his chest and chin raised so he stared down the long slope of his nose at you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You slapped the back of the spoon repeatedly on your palm, letting your head tilt to the side. “Yup,” you replied, popping the last syllable.

“May I ask why?”

You pretended to think about that question for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and chewing on your bottom lip lightly before directing your level gaze back to him. “Um, let’s see… Nope.”

He ripped the spoon from your hand, sending it to the sink with a forceful throw that made it clang a little too loudly for the time of night. “Then I will demand it. Why are you avoiding me?”

He wasn’t going to let it go. That much was obvious. You wished he would, but he was a dog with a bone when he set his mind to something. Your stomach turned with nerves and anxiety, and you felt absolutely foolish facing him in your ratty mismatched pajamas. You backed up and leaned against the kitchen counter, bracing your hands on the smooth granite. Maybe you could play it cool? “I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Do not be childish,” he snapped. “It’s beneath you.”

“Well, that new recruit has been beneath you!”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth you wanted to take them back, grab them from the air and shove them down your throat before your filterless mouth got any more bright ideas. But it happened, so you set your jaw, glaring up at him.

The mixture of emotions warring across his face was difficult to decipher: rage, disbelief, shock, indignation. He closed the distance between you in two long strides, crowding you against the counter. “Is that what your immature behavior has been about? That simpering girl?”

You poked your finger into his chest as hard as you could, secretly pleased when it made him sway back on his heels a bit. “No, not ’that simpering girl’. You, asshole. You preening as she drapes herself over you, basically fucking you with her eyes. It’s disgusting!”

“Is it so damnable or distasteful that I would welcome the attentions of a beautiful woman?” He looked truly hurt at the question, the furrow of his brow contrasting the flare of his nostrils.

“No, but it shouldn’t be her!” you shouted, beyond caring if anyone heard you. You pushed at his chest with all of your strength, sending him back a step so that you could finally breathe. All of the hurt, the pain and anger you’d suppressed recently spilled out of you like a burst dam. “It should be me! You should be looking at me like that. I’m the one who has always been there for you, and she strolled in and just took you away from me before I even had a chance.”

“I am not yours,” he growled, fists flexing at his sides. “Why would you assume that claim over me?”

“Because I love you, you idiot,” you blurted out, much quieter than you had expected, but still loaded with frustration. Your eyes widened at the unplanned admission.

“That is quite foolish of you.”

You couldn’t read the emotion beneath his rich baritone, and he had managed to wipe his face of all expression. A humorless chuckle escaped you. “Yeah, well, I never said I was smart. Brawn over brains, and all that jazz.”

“Jealousy is appealing on you, little one,” he purred in that deep, velvet voice layered with sin that made heat pool between your thighs.

The shift in his tone was so shocking that it took a moment for you to get your bearings. When you’d recovered from the whiplash, you set your lips into a thin frown and huffed, “I’m not jealous.” You sounded like an indignant child again, but you couldn’t help it. He was mocking you.

His hands grasped your biceps, lifting you onto the counter in a smooth, controlled show of strength that made your breath catch in your throat. This new vantage point put your face on an even level with his as he stepped in between your spread knees.

You had never been more frustrated and grateful for ratty pajama bottoms and thin black sweatpants in all your days.

“You are.” He splayed one hand over your hip, pulling your bodies together so that you could feel the hardening length of his arousal pinned between your bodies.

Oh. You hooked your ankles behind his thighs, holding him against you. Your hands spread out over his chest, appreciating the flex of his lean muscles as you dragged them up to wrap around his neck. Might as well run with whatever was going on before he changed his mind. “Give me a reason not to be?”

You barely caught his wicked smile before he crashed his mouth into yours, the kiss rough and sloppy with clashing teeth and tangling tongues and nipped lips. His free hand cupped your breast through your top, tweaking the hardened peak of your nipple to send electric shocks to your throbbing core. You tugged on the ends of his hair to make him groan into your mouth and his hips buck into you, coaxing your excited gasp into his mouth.

In a flurry of grabbing hands and ripped fabric, you were both naked from the waist down. His hands held your thighs open as he slid the full length of his erection into you, stretching you and splitting you in two from the inside out.

“Norns, you’re exquisite,” he sighed reverently, resting his forehead against yours, just holding himself inside of your clenching heat.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, clinging on for dear life as you grew accustomed to him. You flushed with pleasure at his praise, leaning forward to leave a soft, gentle kiss on his lips.

“And you’re not moving,” you answered cheekily, squeezing around him in the same motion as your ankles pressing into his backside.

He dropped his forehead onto your shoulder, thrusting into you in a slow and sensual rhythm that allowed you to feel each and every ridge of his cock. His hand on your breast dropped to your lower belly so his thumb could just press into the pulsing pearl at the top of your sex.

You couldn’t remember how to breathe, couldn’t remember anything. He had burrowed inside of you and erased anything that wasn’t him, wasn’t the masculine scent of his cologne or the salt of his skin as you nibbled on his earlobe. You didn’t know any other sound but your name leaving his throat in a stuttered groan as his hips snapped against you at a punishing pace.

And when he finally surrendered to his orgasm with his mouth closed over your hammering pulse point on your neck, you followed immediately after at the insistent rub of the calloused pad of his thumb. You latched onto him like he was the only thing tethering you to this Earth, trusting him to hold you as you rode the waves of electric pleasure that spasmed in your tired muscles and flashed white behind your closed eyelids.

“C’mon guys, we have to eat in here!”

Loki’s arms wrapped around your back, and a blanket - presumably from his pocket dimension - was tucked around your shoulders to preserve your modesty and hide where you were still joined together. You nuzzled into his embrace, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. You were still basking in the pleasant afterglow, and you didn’t want to face the world - or Tony - yet.

“Walk away, Stark,” he growled, his dangerous voice vibrating through you where his cheek pressed against yours. “You too.”

At his address to a second person, you lifted your head, unable to stop the smug smile tugging on your bruised lips as you looked over your shoulder. That brazen idiot that had been throwing herself at Loki was staring at you both with her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, dumbfounded. You shouldn’t have taken as much pleasure in her shocked expression as you did, but you’d never claimed to be a saint.

“Yes, walk away,” you echoed haughtily. You very visibly drew your hand from around Loki’s back to disappear beneath the blanket, teasing at the cut muscle of his hip, staking your claim on the man still buried within you.

They both stormed off in different directions, allowing you to turn your attention back to Loki.

He beamed with pride down at you. “Minx.”

“But I’m your minx.”

He lifted you off of the counter, holding his hands beneath your backside as he carried you off in the direction of his rooms. “You are, and I must guarantee that the entire tower is made aware of that fact.”

Who were you to tell him otherwise?

***

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Hi!!! I love your writing so much! May I have #13 with Loki, please?

You certainly can! Thank you so much for your continued enthusiastic support.

A/N: #13 was “The thought of losing you was the most excruciating pain I’d ever felt.”

Warnings: Language, blood, violence, death (but not graphically described).

I Told You So

You were fucked. You were so thoroughly fucked.

Crouched behind a concrete support pillar amidst the wreckage of what once appeared to be a normal office with your heart in your throat and your hands putting pressure on the steadily throbbing bullet graze on your waist, you knew that this was a mission you probably weren’t coming back from. Sure, you had called for backup as soon as it went south, but they had yet to show and you could hear ominous footsteps slowly closing in around you. Your breaths hissed out through your clenched teeth. Bullets pockmarked the wall in front of you at random intervals, spraying debris and dust that choked your parched throat.

Turns out Hydra wasn’t too keen on you coming in and infiltrating their base hidden in plain sight. Weird. So when you’d shown up earlier in the morning, instead of being met with a cup of terrible coffee and muttered conversation about the awfulness of Mondays, you had been greeted with the barrels of several guns shoved into your face.

Now, pressed into a corner, all you had to rely on was your telekinetic abilities and a pistol with four bullets in it. Not the best odds.

A man appeared in your peripheral vision, gun raised and sighted onto your head. You raised one blood-stained hand to swipe at him with your powers, sending him flying into the nearest wall with a resounding crack! that made you flinch.

Loki had fought you coming on this mission, snarled and hissed and raged to disguise the fear that you knew pounded through his veins like a poison. You had stood firm, comforting yet unyielding as you insisted that you were fully capable of handling it. He couldn’t coddle you forever. He had fallen in love with an Avenger, and there was a price to pay for the perks of being a professional ass-kicker.

“Hold on princess, your knight in shining leather is almost here. And we’re coming, too,” Tony quipped, full of bravado and snark even through the earpiece you had shoved into your ear as soon as the situation had flipped upside down.

You poked your head out from behind the pillar, catching a quick look at the dozens of business casual Hydra agents advancing on you before you were forced to retreat at the flash of their weapons. Shit. “Any day now would be swell.”

The screech of metal wrenching into pieces and glass shattering was music to your ears. Blasts drowned out the sound of gunfire, and you would recognize that specific whine of Tony’s repulsors anywhere. Swallowing down the last of your fear, you stood up and walked around the pillar, taking out three agents in rapid succession. The last bullet went flying, as the woman you had aimed at crumpled to the ground from a dagger sticking out of her chest.

Loki was glorious in battle, a sight to be seen and a distracting one at that. Sure, you adored him in the mornings, soft and rumpled from sleep, his raven hair a halo around him as he pulled you into him even in his sleep. But this was where he truly seemed to thrive. Cape flowing dramatically behind him, his leathers dark and striking and moving fluidly with his graceful, powerful movements as he used his blades and speed to take down enemy after enemy, he looked the part of a battle-hardened warrior prince through and through.

You were only vaguely aware of the others coming in guns blazing through the hole in the wall that Tony had blasted. Lightning lit Loki from behind as he killed each and every person in between the two of you, exuding a terrifying deadly air that sent a wave of delicious heat rolling through you.

There wasn’t a moment lost once every enemy was taken down. Loki sped to you and pulled you into the circle of his arms, crushing you to him so tightly that you weren’t sure where he ended and you began. You matched his desperation, clinging to him like he was the only force strong enough to hold you to the godforsaken carpet ruined with glass and blood. Copper, dirt, and salt filled your nostrils as you breathed him in, only the faintest hint of the spicy earthy scent of his cologne was able to penetrate the scent of combat that clung to his skin.

“You should have listened to me,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he curled as protectively around you as he possibly could.

You shifted slightly so that the pressure of his embrace was off of your wound, smoothing your hands over his leather-covered spine again and again to both soothe him and yourself. “I know.”

He pulled away from you just enough to peer down at you, taking stock of the bruising and blood on your face. The agony written in the downward tilt of his eyebrows and the tightness of his eyes wrapped around your heart and squeezed. “I did not know if I would make it to you in time. The thought of losing you,” he paused, a muscle in his jaw fluttered and he took a deep shaky breath before continuing on, “was the most excruciating pain I’d ever felt.”

“I’m okay,” you reassured him with a weak smile.

But your knees buckled just after those placating words passed your chapped lips. The loss of adrenaline and sticky, hot blood that now soaked your side worked together to remind you just how not okay you truly were.

Loki cursed, feeling you falter against him, and swept you easily into the cradle of his arms. His eyes flitted over the slowly growing crimson stain on your white blouse that had been hidden by your black blazer, revealed by your curled up position against his chest. “You stubborn woman.”

Once inside the waiting Quinjet he sat down on a waiting cot secured against the wall, stretching you out carefully so that you were on your side with your head cushioned against his warm thighs. Nat came in moments later, somehow still breathtakingly gorgeous herself with mussed hair and dirt streaking her face. She tended to you quickly, putting an IV in your arm for saline and pain medication before patching you up the best that she could. The entire time Loki held onto your hand, his other hand smoothing over your hair in a comforting rhythm that matched his steady breaths.

You fought the deadening weight of the morphine, staring at the intricately woven leather of his trousers with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You should rest,” he suggested quietly, once everyone was back on board and you were soaring through the skies towards the Compound.

“I’m okay,” you replied. It seemed as if you were only capable of two word sentences lately.

A blanket appeared out of nowhere, covering your body from foot to shoulder with the wave of his free fingers. His other hand scratched lightly at your scalp, combing out the tangles formed from sweat and blood. “I am not losing you today, sweetling. Rest now. I have you.”

Content knowing that he would watch over you, but only after you tugged your clasped hands into your chest, you answered the siren call of morphine and exhaustion, drifting peacefully into the warm nothingness that sounded quite like Loki’s rich, low voice whispering, “I love you.”

~~~

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @myoxisbroken @blah666 @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @silverswordthekilljoy @tinchentitri @brokenthelovely @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

OOOOOH PROMPT 8 fluff with Loki I’m I sucker for Loki’s hair

I haven’t had a thing for Loki’s hair before, but writing this might have shown me the light. Thank you so much for the request.

To Soothe a God

To say that Loki was vain would be an understatement of epic proportions.

You had never caught him visibly preening before, but the number of hair care products in your bathroom and shower - that didn’t belong to you - could service an entire salon. When he had begun sleeping at your place he had transformed your perfectly adequate cotton pillowcase into silk. 

And you couldn’t say anything to him about the careful attention and extra time spent on his long raven locks, as it was extremely comforting to you both to comb your fingers through them idly, his head on your lap while you read or watched television. It would only take a tug on the ends or the gentle rasp of your fingernails on his scalp to turn his soft sighs of contentment into groans of arousal that shot through you to your core.

So, when he stormed into your apartment, his sculpted features set into a fierce scowl that would stop the heart of the bravest men, you sat up and patted your thigh loudly.

“Come here and tell me about it.”

He sank down onto the sofa, his head falling onto your lap so that he was facing your stomach. Your fingers automatically began running through his hair, working out a few small tangles in the soft tresses carefully.

“How is it expected of me to hold my tongue when you have imbeciles like Stark or my brother wagging their tongues at every opportunity? It’s madness when almost every word coming out of their mouths is incorrect and foolish!” he ranted, dark lashes caressing the harsh line of his cheekbones at your ministrations.

“I know, sweetheart. But you have to tough it out, just for a while, until they fully trust you again.” You smiled softly down at him, watching the tense bunches of muscle in his shoulders slowly loosen. His arms came up to wrap around your middle so he could bury his face into your soft tummy, breathing you in in deep, slow breaths.

“It’s demeaning and frustrating to have to listen to their drabble,” he grumbled, the words slightly muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

“I can braid your hair for you, if you’d like,” you offered, scratching at his scalp gently.

He blew out a hot puff of air against you, the last of the tension seeping out of him with the breath. After a moment, he nodded. You grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it onto the floor, gesturing for him to sit. Instead, he sat up, circling his hands around your waist and lifting you up so that you were perched on the back of the couch, feet planted on the cushions. He planted a quick, chaste kiss to your lips before spreading your knees so he could turn around and sit in between them, his head settled in between your thighs.

“You may.”

You hummed a nonsensical tune under your breath, holding your hand out next to his face. A hairbrush appeared in his own hand, and he passed it to you without comment. You pulled it through his hair, brushing it until it gleamed in the warm glow of the lamps you had turned on. You peppered thin braids throughout his hair, making sure to gather the hair by his temples into a few so that you could better see the exquisite beauty of his slowly-relaxing face. His hands wrapped around your ankles, rubbing the soft skin there in steady circular motions that matched the movement of your fingers in his hair.

When you were finished you moved your hands to his shoulders, pushing and working at the knots of his neck and upper back to bring about quiet sighs from him that were music to your ears. His chin fell forward onto his chest, giving you more room to tend to and care for the handsome Prince that had sauntered into your life with a smirk that stole your breath away.

It was heartwarming, to care for the man who so vehemently protected and loved you in every way possible. Even if it was only braiding his hair or working the stresses of the day from his leanly muscled body, you were happy to do it. After all, how often was anyone blessed with having a god at their mercy?

***

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @silverswordthekilljoy

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Congrats on 750 and thanks so much for doing this! Can I please request “4. I need to know that you can trust me. Please.” for Tom? Angst to fluff with maybe a dash of smut at the end? I could see either Tom or the OFC say this under different circumstances, but I would leave that choice up to you! Thanks again and also thank you for creating such a wonderful blog:)

Thank you so much for sending this request! I will admit that this is incredibly long at 3.4k words and it 100% got away from me to take on a life of its own. As it stands, I couldn’t make any smut work in it, but I do hope that you enjoy it nonetheless!

Thank you to @vodka-and-some-sass who gave me some very helpful insight on this fic! It wouldn’t be what it is without you!

Warning: language!

Five Stars

“Ben, I can’t. I’m sorry, but I’m swamped working on the cues for-”

“Too busy to pop into our Ugly Sweater party? Nonsense! You must come. It has been ages since we’ve seen you.”

You made a noncommittal grunt, scouring the thoroughly marked script in front of you, ignoring the pixelated face giving you a very stern glare from the screen beside it.

“It starts at eight. Sophie will be so pleased to know you’re coming.”

The screen went blank after his unceremonious goodbye. You rolled your eyes before pulling the pencil from behind your ear to make another note. Ben was a force of nature, had been since you’d met him starting out in theatre, and it was easier just to go along with whatever he wanted whenever he got an idea into his head. Maybe a few hours of fun might do your exhausted mind a bit of good. Clear the clutter and whatnot. What could it hurt?

~

What was the line between a sweater being so ugly it was awesome and just being embarrassingly terrible?

You were sure you had crossed that line with the getup you were wearing, but there wasn’t time to change as you had already knocked on the door to the Cumberbatch house. You were swept inside from the soft snowfall into a pair of long, lanky arms and crushed against an almost skeletal body.

“It’s been so long! Come on, Sophie can open the wine you’ve brought, and then I need to introduce you to some new friends.”

You followed along without getting much of a word in edge-wise, nursing a glass of red wine thrust into your hand by Sophie before you made the rounds at Ben’s side. Names and faces went in one ear and out the other. Hands were shaken, cheeks of old friends were kissed, and small talk was made. The cheery Christmas music in the background and the slight buzz of alcohol in your system helped to loosen you up, and soon you were sitting on the arm of a couch, contentedly people watching when Ben confidently strode up to you, ushering along someone behind him.

“You look positively bored out of your skull, and I have just the solution. I’d like you to meet Tom,” he said with a grin and a flourish, stepping out of the way to present ‘Tom’.

“Tom Hiddleston,” he said, the familiar face sheepish as he held out a hand for you to shake. “Ben has regaled me with great tales of your running around together years and years ago.”

His hand was warm when you took it, smooth and firm and completely enveloping yours with the length of his thin fingers. “I’m sure they’re highly edited versions of what truly happened, all spun to put him in a more attractive light.”

“On the contrary,” he smiled, running his hand through the auburn locks curling behind his ears before shoving his hand into the pocket of his dark jeans, “they were tailored to do so for yourself. Perhaps you can tell enlighten me with your perspective?”

And that was how you spent the evening chatting with Tom Hiddleston. You had known that he and Ben were close friends, he’d been mentioned in passing before, but it was one thing to hear about ‘Tom flying to the States to work on a film’ and another to have the full force of Tom Hiddleston and his breathtaking rapt attention clothed in a gaudy Christmas sweater directed at you from close range. It was secretly thrilling to hold the focus of someone so beautiful, to watch his eyes sparkle and mouth pull back into a grin at your jokes and anecdotes. His hands spun tales in the space between you, as expressive and vibrant as his many impassioned tangents. You couldn’t deny the twist of butterflies in your stomach when his hand settled onto the middle of your back and his head craned down to better hear your point over a sudden burst of laughter from the other party guests.

But the night couldn’t last forever, and the glass of spiked eggnog Ben had slipped into your hand was in cahoots with the late hour to make you drowsy. Your poor attempt at stifling a yawn behind your hand did not go unnoticed by the keen blue eyes that hadn’t left you since you’d been introduced what felt like an eternity ago.

“Perhaps we should call it a night,” Tom offered, standing up and stretching languidly. It was pure force of will that kept your eyes from lingering on the peek of pale skin at his hip revealed by the gaudy red bottom of his sweater riding up from the innocent movement.

You slipped your phone out of your pocket, nodding in agreement. “You’re probably right. I’ve been working myself to the bone. I’ll just call an Uber and then make the rounds.”

His hand closed over your phone, pushing it gently down to your side. “I was about to leave. Allow me to give you a ride, in payment for monopolizing so much of your time?”

How could you say no to such an earnest face? With his brows lifted into a hopeful smile, you were hooked. “Let me say goodbye?”

You left Tom to wind your way through the mingling crowd, the music and murmuring having leveled off to more intimate levels as the evening wore on. It was easy to find Ben stationed in the kitchen, packing away the leftover finger foods.

“Heading out?” he asked when you handed him a cheese platter, glancing around you before turning to the open refrigerator once more. “Sophie wanted to say goodnight before she went up to bed, but she couldn’t find you.”

Their home wasn’t that big, but you let it slide with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You carefully put your empty glass into the overloaded sink. “Yeah. It’s getting late, and Tom offered to give me a lift back to mine.”

“Oh, Tom?” The interest on his overly expressive face was impossible to miss. “Hit it off, did you?”

You swatted at his chest before pulling him into a quick hug. “Oh hush, you. You’re about as subtle as a slap to the face. He’s nice. Come say goodbye, you meddling fool.”

He acted overly offended, hands clutching his chest as he led you back toward the front door where Tom was waiting, already buttoned into his black pea coat. “Meddle? Me? Never!”

Tom’s answering chuckle was filled with warmth as he pulled your coat from your hands, helping you into it without any fuss. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, but I’m inclined to side with the lady. You are far too meddlesome for your own good, Ben.”

“Would it be considered meddling to inform you both that you’re stationed underneath the mistletoe?” Ben asked, a devious smile on his face as he pointed above your heads.

Sure enough, he had cheekily planted that festive decoration right above the front door. Heat flooded your cheeks when you dropped your gaze down to Tom and shoved your hands into your coat pockets awkwardly. “That bastard.”

He shifted just a breath closer to you, so the masculine scented warmth of his body fought against the chill seeping through the front door at your side. “It is tradition. May I?”

When you quickly nodded your silent reply, his hand came up to cradle your cheek facing the room, permitting you a bit of privacy. As soon as your lashes fluttered against your cheeks did he kiss you, a quick, almost chaste brush of his lips, leaving you with just the barest taste of the chocolate he sampled earlier. It wasn’t enough.

You ignored the inferno set inside of you at the simple action and opened your eyes, startled to see Tom still so close to you. His breath fanned across your face, sweet and quick, and his thumb stroked your cheek softly before he released you from the captivating spell of his blown light-blue eyes.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his jacket up around his neck, shooting Ben one last glance. “Thank you for inviting us to the party this evening. I’ll get in touch soon.”

You waved your goodbye before following him outside, mind trying to wrap around being included in Tom’s farewell to your mutual friend. It was surely nothing, as was the way that his hand lighted on your lower back to assist you into the car. You were exhausted. That had to explain why you were so tongue-tied and nervous for the entire drive back to your home.

“That’s me,” you gestured to the side of the road, sitting up straighter in the soft leather seat.

He pulled to a slow and careful stop on the curb. The tense silence that filled the small space threatened to choke you, but you couldn’t make yourself reach for the door. Doing so would be a definite cap on the evening. The spell would be broken and you would go back to the mundanity of daily life without the captivated ear of a handsome gentleman.

Tom broke your sorrowful train of thought, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Allow me to walk you to the door.”

In the spare seconds that you had to compose yourself, all you managed to do was thoroughly inspect a smudge on his rear-view mirror. Cold rushed into the haven of his car when he opened the door, drawing you out by the guidance of his gentle hand. He followed you to the door, towering above you and ducking his shoulders against the frigid breeze that ruffled your hair.

“Thanks for the ride.” You fidgeted with the keys in your hands, worrying the worn metal. “It was much more pleasant than an Uber ride, that’s for sure.” So smooth.

“Will you give me five stars?”

The joke gave you enough confidence to lift your face to his. You startled slightly at how close he was, the fog from your breath swirling together to mix with the scattered snowfall. The tenderness in his gaze made your heart race in your chest. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips against the wind, and the darkness that flooded his pale blue eyes made your breath catch in your throat. Snowflakes caught on his light lashes and tinted his now rosy cheeks. You heard yourself ask, “What have you done to earn them?”

Uncertainty flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before determination ticked in his temple. He stilled the clink of your keys with his hand over yours, using the contact to shift that much closer to you. Hope and the desire that clenched in your stomach bid you to tilt your pouted mouth up to him in offering. He accepted, giving you a warm, gentle kiss that warmed you from the top of your head to the tips of your curled toes. The sensitive skin around your mouth tickled from the rasp of his short beard, wholly masculine and surprisingly soft.

“Goodnight, darling. I’ll call you in the morning.”

He stayed on your doorstep until you fumbled the keys into the lock with trembling fingers. The last thing visible through the slowly tightening crack in the closing door was his kind smile crinkling around his eyes, bright and full of promise just for you.

If he called the next morning, which would be impossible because you had forgotten to give him your number like a pining idiot, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. You woke to your phone blaring out your ringtone nonstop. It had vibrated itself right off of the bedside table onto the floor so you had to practically fall out of bed to silence it. As soon as you did, another call came through from an unknown number, followed by several texts and emails in quick succession.

“What the?” Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you leaned back against the side of your bed, opening your texts because you were definitely not alert enough to speak to a living person yet.

’ARE YOU DATING TOM HIDDLESTON?!?!’

‘Was that you in the papers with Tom Hiddleston?’

Practically every person under the sun that you had ever come in contact with had sent you a message or called you, flooding your phone with notifications you were instantly too overwhelmed to handle.

You grabbed a change of clothes, answering the phone on the next ring and shoving it into your ear, not even caring who had called as you gathered your things for a shower.

“Are you alright?”

Ben. “What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?”

“I sent you a picture taken by the paparazzi yesterday. It’s all over the gossip magazines and websites. I haven’t been able to get a hold of Tom. I assume he’s been tied up with Luke all morning. Are you alright?”

You didn’t answer him, tossing your clothes onto the bathroom sink so you could flip through your overload of messages to find what Ben was talking about. There, on the front of some tawdry magazine, was a slightly grainy picture of you and Tom from the previous evening. There was no mistaking it. There you were, locking lips with the internet’s perpetually single boyfriend.

Shit. You placed the phone on top of your clothes, hitting the speakerphone so you could turn on the water for the shower. “Nothing happened, Ben.”

“I know that, you know that, and Tom knows that. But the world doesn’t, and several hundred-thousand opinions hold more weight than the truth in this instance.”

Hitting your head repeatedly against the tiled bathroom wall was suddenly far more appealing than the current conversation. “I can’t deal with this right now. I’m going to take a shower. Thanks for checking in, Ben.”

Hair damp and decked out in your softest lounge clothes, you had foolishly expected that the situation would somehow magically improve. But it only seemed to worsen upon leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom. When you peeked out from behind your curtains to see what all the shouting that you heard was about, dozens of men with cameras bigger than your face were visible across the street. They perked up at the movement and their huge black lenses all turned in your direction.

You were trapped. Grumbling, you turned on your heel to retreat to your room when loud knocks pounded straight into your skull, making you practically jump out of your skin with shock.

“Who is it?” you called, pressing your ear against the front door. Who would brave the field of paparazzi to visit you?

“It’s me! Please, let me in,” Tom called.

You hurried over and ushered him in before closing the door against the blinding flashes shot in your direction, blinking the spots from your eyes.

He held his hands out in front of him, palms up. “I apologize for showing up without an invitation, but I didn’t have your number, and I was concerned.”

You crossed your arms over your chest to hide the trembling in your limbs at the sudden spotlight thrust upon you, shrugging your shoulders in what wasn’t exactly a convincing act of nonchalance. Desperate to hide from his earnest, ever-observant stare, you went into the kitchen and set the kettle on the burner. “It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s whatever.”

His heavy footsteps matched the roaring pulse in your ears as his long legs quickly closed the distance between you. He carefully took your hand in between both of his, turning you to face him. “You aren’t fine.”

“No, I’m damn well not fine,” you huffed, pinching your nose with your free hand. You dropped your chin onto your chest, closing your eyes as you fought the anxiety gripping your lungs like a vice. “I woke up this morning to my phone blowing up because of a stolen picture with you. I’m sure half of the internet hates me because they think we’re this serious thing now, and any illusion of privacy that I had is dwindling by the second as they try to figure out who the heck I am to either crucify me or congratulate me. It’s just…”

He released your arm to curl his fingers underneath your jaw, lifting your gaze from the burgundy cable-knit jumper covering his chest. The genuine concern that creased his brow and tugged on the corners of his mouth would be your undoing if you allowed yourself the weakness. “It is quite the ordeal, and you didn’t ask for this aspect of our relationship.”

“There isn’t any relationship at all! It was only a kiss. Well, two, but still. It would be one thing if there was,” you paused, allowing yourself the luxury of fully savoring his electrifying touch before pulling your face out of his featherlight hold, “but there isn’t.”

His hand scrubbed over the whiskers muddying his razor sharp jawline before falling to ghost over the curve of your hip. “If there was, what?”

You didn’t know what you were saying, what you had just said and alluded to. Your thoughts were a blur and you couldn’t discern whether you wanted to hide from him or into him. Quickly replaying what you had blurted out in your distracted state, you sighed heavily, the weight of what could not be dragged down your shoulders. What would it hurt to say what had been lingering on your mind all morning? “If there was something between us, maybe all the scrutiny would be worth it. If we were together, and I didn’t have to face them alone. If there was a reason behind terrifying men shouting awful things at me outside of my home. As it is, I’m a prisoner in my home for no damned good reason.”

He took a step away from you, arms crossing over his chest. “A consolation prize, then?”

You wanted to slam your fists onto the countertop, scream and tear your hair out at the confusion and frustration of it all. Instead, your hands flailed uselessly in between you. “No! No, not that.”

“Then what?” he asked, silken voice as tight and guarded as the rest of him. Steely blue eyes held you captive as he demanded an explanation.

What did it hurt to admit your fledgling feelings at this point? “Being with you, it wouldn’t be some consolation prize. You aren’t a-a prize to be won, Tom. I like you, okay? It was fun to talk with you last night, and you sure are one heck of a kisser. Five stars, for sure. I just…” you waved your arms at the throng of paparazzi you could faintly hear gathered outside. “That’s a lot to take on, especially for someone I hardly know.”

His arms fell to his sides and he took a small step toward you. “If it weren’t for the fame, for the fans and the celebrity and the madness of it all, would you hesitate?”

“Not for a second,” you answered instantly. The answer came from deep within you with no thought.

“Well, then…” His hands came up on either side of your face, cupping your jaw. He moved with absolute care, slow and steady with plenty of time for you to stop him at any point. First his forehead rested lightly against you, then his nose nudged along your cheek, and finally his mouth slanted over yours in a kiss so full of passion and intensity that your knees buckled. He held you upright between his body and the counter behind you, hands splayed over your sides and fingertips molded to the soft flesh of your waist.

He tucked your head beneath his chin, nuzzling his cheek into your damp hair. “Give us a chance? Give this a chance.”

You dug your fingertips into the worn wool of his jumper, inhaling the dark and soothing scent of his cologne from your nose pressed into his chest. “Tom…”

“I will handle this, I promise,” he assured you, reaching up to cup the back of your neck, holding you to him. “I need to know you can trust me. Please.”

The tension slowly left your shoulders at the caress of his hand down your spine. You melted into him. “Ben is going to be insufferable when he hears,” you said, doing your best to keep the happiness from your voice, but you were no award-winning actor.

“Let him,” he growled, hooking his thumbs underneath your chin, tilting your face up to him so he could further prove to you with his pillowy-soft lips and coffee-laced tongue exactly why trusting him would be worth all the sorrow and strife waiting just outside your door.

~~~

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @silverswordthekilljoy

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Can I have #5. “This is real. I’m real.” ? :'3 A Loki X Reader (female) bit of angst and sweet smut. *where in the reader is a psychic who feels and see other peoples mind and emotion - but she was captured by their enemies and was tortured and she got broken mentally by it and Loki will try his best to bring his lover back to their reality?* Hope this is not too much. Thank you so much and congratulations again

Thank you so so much! I will admit, this was very difficult to write. Angst is a challenge for me, but it is fun to play with! I hope that this is close enough to what you asked for!

Thank you to @nonsensicalobsessions for helping me with this! You’re the best, bestie.

Warnings: This does mention previous torture. There is also a bit of smut, but it isn’t intensely graphic.

Listen

Pain. Pain shooting up your limbs and frying your nerves. Fire scorching your skin. You want to scream but no sound comes out. Your vocal cords are useless from days of abuse. No escape. No reprieve. Flashes of light blind you. Your bones are cold. They’re going to snap. It’s pain and it’s blood and it’s ice and it isn’t stopping and please oh please just let me go I don’t know what you want where is Loki please

You were torn violently from the nightmare by a hand on your cheek, tapping insistently. Your eyes flew open as you jerked away into the mattress beneath you. Loki hovered over you, worry shadowing his eyes in the dim warmth of the bedside lamp.

He raised his hand to where you could see it. “It was only a nightmare, sweetling. You are safe.”

You touched your hand hesitantly against his, using the connection to read the truth of his words. Concern. Love. Sadness. The deep grief that wrapped around his mind threatened to choke out every other emotion for him, but his neverending love for you managed to keep it at bay. It was his deepest truth, written in every thought that passed through his head as he searched your expression. 

That love and concern was a balm to the shadows of torturous memories that clawed at you in your dreams where you were defenseless to their attacks. You wanted to consume every bit of warmth he had to offer you, surround yourself in it until there was nothing left but the security and safety that he provided.

And then your hand fell to the sweat-dampened sheets covering you. The contact broken, the terror slid back into your thoughts. You couldn’t breathe. It was too much and it’s cold and it’s fear that widened your unseeing eyes and forced tears to trail down your face.

“No, no. They are not here. Come back to me. I am here to protect you,” Loki promised, the words breaking through the thudding of your pulse in your ears, his hand pulling yours to rest over his bare chest. His heart beat his love for you beneath his smooth skin, solid and alive and pulling you back to the present moment in your shared bedroom.

You dragged your eyes over to his, feeling your mouth twist as you fought against the panic crawling beneath your skin. “Please,” you begged, not sure what you’re asking for exactly, just confident that he was the only one who could help.

He shifted on the bed, moving between your legs and settling onto his forearms on either side of your head, supporting just enough of his weight to keep from crushing you while also allowing you to feel the comfort of his body against yours. You took greedy handfuls of his backside, pulling him down more firmly onto you.

“This is real. I’m real,” he whispered, just before his lips brushed over yours. It was the faintest caress, but the outpouring of affection from that brief touch sent a shiver through your body straight to your molten core. You tilted your head back and parted your lips, sighing into him when he responded to your unspoken plea for another kiss with the slant of his mouth over yours.

And with each drag of his hot tongue, tease of his calloused fingertips, and roll of his hips over your center, the darkness in your thoughts was replaced by the glow of his - comforting and bright and deep as he worshipped your body with his own.

He filled you with every bit of him imaginable. Joined your pleasure with his in both the very basest way that was possible between a man and a woman - fire and desire that burned you from the inside out, and also the mystical insight into every sentiment and emotion that raced through his brilliant mind. It chased out every demon and monster that lurked in the shadows to keep you up at night, replacing it with his repeated fervent thoughts.

When all thought was lost, and you were just you and Loki, hopelessly entwined as you soared over the peak of your passions together, the combined ecstasy was enough to leave you limp and sated in the strong band of his arms. He tugged you on top of him beneath the thin sheets, tucking your head into the crook of his neck where your panted breaths could fan across his chest.

His fingers wound themselves into your hair and his other hand traced idle shapes on the curve of your waist. “Listen.”

So, you did, closing your eyes and focusing on the winding of his thoughts with the steady drum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

I love you. I adore you. Let the promises that I write upon your skin now ring true forevermore. I will protect you with my dying breath. You are safe. You are whole. You are mine. In my embrace, you will have a refuge for the rest of your days. This heart beats for you. I love you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet

Whole Shebang taglist: @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @nonsensicalobsessions @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @blah666 @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Can you do 14 with Loki? Angst probs cause thats the mood I'm in. Maybe something with a depressed reader? No matter what you do I am cool with tho. I love you're writing, it makes me smile no matter what mood I'm in! ❤❤❤❤❤❤

You wanted angst with a depressed reader, and I did my best to give that to you! I couldn’t help but throwing in a bit of fluff in there, because 100% angst just isn’t something I can really write it seems, but I did my best! Thank you so so much for your kind words! They mean the world to me

Facts

You loved him. That was a fact as true as the sky was blue.

But it was a fact, not a feeling. When you looked at Loki sitting next to you on the couch, thumbing through an ancient tome written in a language you couldn’t begin to place, there was an emptiness inside of you where warmth used to blossom. The butterflies he had once stirred inside of your belly with a simple grin shot in your direction had gone dormant, barely fluttering their colorless wings.

Everything took energy that you didn’t have, pulling from an empty void that stretched out across your chest and mind and swallowed everything in its path. It was a monumental effort to force a laugh at one of his jokes or feign a smile when he told you stories about lightly tormenting one of the Avengers. You tried your best, but there wasn’t any use trying to pretend to the God of Lies.

It was getting to him, the yawning expanse of a bottomless cavern that you’d fallen into that he couldn’t pull you out of no matter how hard he tried. His brows were ever pulled downward into each other whenever he would glance at you and his expressive mouth had long ago set itself into a hard line. The tension in his shoulders was as if he held the weight of the world upon their breadth. The contentment and warmth that had normally softened the hard planes of his face in your presence had faded, and you didn’t have the ability to do anything to fix it. 

Neither of you was strong enough to compete with the dark clouds hanging over your head.

After far too long spent staring at your phone without actually taking anything in, you stood up, shoving it into your back pocket before wrapping your arms around your middle. It was a comforting and regular stance you had adopted lately. “It’s getting late. I’ll leave so you can get some sleep before your mission tomorrow.”

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before carefully setting his book in your recently vacated spot on the couch. “You will message to inform me of your safe arrival?”

At one point his concern would have been heart-warming, but now there was just silence within you as you crossed to the front door and slipped on your coat. “Always.”

Just as you turned to face the front door did Loki step in between you and the door, crossing the distance quickly and barring your exit with his towering frame. He held his hands out to you palm up, eyes tight. “Stay.”

You knew what he wanted. It wasn’t hard to interpret his increasing attempts to pull your long-lost light from where it had been buried within you, but you were tired, and you didn’t want to struggle anymore. Not tonight. “Loki…”

His deft fingers quickly popped open the buttons on your coat, slipping it from your shoulders to hang back on the hook it had just left. When you didn’t put up a fight at his slow actions, he anchored his hands on the swell of your hips, pulling you closer so you could feel the pleasant heat of his body against your perpetually chilled skin. The deep green of his eyes caught yours and held, beseeching you to focus wholly on him. “Just stay. We can figure it all out tomorrow. For right now, just stay.”

The quiet, firm but pleading tone in his voice was one you weren’t accustomed to, especially when paired with the concern and vulnerability written across his breathtaking face. It didn’t look right on him, to beg you to stay with him in every way but verbally, your prideful prince reduced to a mere man for his love for you. It tore at your conscience and forced you to reach out and slide your hands over his. “Okay.”

His sigh of relief ruffled your hair when he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, trickling the smallest flame down your body to wrap around your heart and squeeze. Just enough to remind you that it was still there. He led you back to the couch, stretching out along the length and placing you in between his legs so your face was cushioned by the soft black sweater covering his chest.

And when his hands smoothed featherlight lines down the length of your spine, flickers of contentment sparked to life inside of you. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Because the fact of the matter was, he was Loki, and if anyone was stubborn enough to defeat the darkness consuming you, it was the man cradling you in the safety of his embrace.

~~~

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @myoxisbroken @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @silverswordthekilljoy

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

750 Follower Celebration! Loki x reader fluff , prompt 22. They have been friends forever, reader always had Lokis back, even from childhood. But that didnt stop Loki from being a tease all the time... Reader being insecure and shy but with the most stunning singing voice in all of Asgard

Wooo! Thank you so much for sending in this request! It was such a joy to write (as evidenced by the fact that this is a full length one shot OOPS). I hope you enjoy!

Safe Haven

The one time you didn’t feel the anxious jitters of insecurity knocking at your knees was when you sang.

You knew the bright taste of confidence on your tongue when your voice rang out throughout the room, carrying tales of recent splendor and war to the hundreds of those in attendance of the celebratory feast. When so many looked upon you in wonder as you used your well-trained gift to entertain them before the true revelry had begun, you shone your brightest. 

But that high couldn’t last forever, and soon you were leaving the small fire-lit stage to allow everyone to focus on each other, laughing and toasting over honeyed mead and bittersweet wine. And that was when you felt most ill at ease, knowing that you didn’t quite fit in with the boasting warriors and their admirers, nor the wizened academics who conversed quietly amongst themselves.

Thank the Norns for Loki, who caught your eye in the crowd, standing almost a full ahead above the rest. He had been your near-constant companion since your childhood, a spot of brightness and a safe haven wrapped in a dark and emerald green package that turned most others away. But you knew the heart beneath the thorny exterior, warm and inviting and not without laughter, from your years spent exploring all that Asgard had to offer, finding secret passageways in the palace and secreting yourselves away. Him, to practice magic and study in peace, and you, to rehearse, providing a pleasing background accompaniment to his workings.

You slipped through the crowd, shooting sheepish smiles in the direction of those who praised your performance, feeling your cheeks flame from the attention. He held out a glass of your favorite wine, elegant fingertips brushing yours when you gratefully took the drink from him. Holding it gave your fidgeting hands something to focus on. You had always been told that restlessness was most unbecoming of a lady of noble birth, not that you’d care. But it still nagged at the back of your mind.

“You look positively pallid, Little Lark,” Loki commented, concern edging his tone despite the boredom painting his harsh features.

You took your place beside him, your backs to a pillar, surveying the festivities from the edge of it all. “You know how I detest these parties. I do enjoy performing, but the attention afterward is most unsettling.”

He grinned, quirking a fine black eyebrow in your direction. “Perhaps it is not only your otherworldly voice that draws their focus.”

Over the last century or so, Loki’s attentions had turned into something more than the easy friendship you had grown used to. It was unsettling at first, to be the object of flirtation from someone of such a high status, of such regal beauty that to look him fully in the eye made your breath catch in your throat and your heart squeeze. But when he never made any further advances, you took it as harmless banter, sliding into the new roles of your relationship with all the ease and grace of a poorly shod horse. Anything became easier with time, however, and it wasn’t as if Asgardians were lacking that commodity.

Nothing could come of it, anyway. Your birth, while high in Asgardian society, wasn’t that of one who could truly tempt a Prince.

So you easily rolled your eyes, nudging your shoulder into his upper arm. “Ah, yes, these so-called wiles that you insist I possess. How foolish of me to have forgotten them.”

“Indeed, as I have not,” he replied, his velvety voice dropping to a pleasant timbre that sent a chill down your spine.

You clenched the stem of your glass tighter for it, casting a glance up at him to see that he was watching you with such intensity that you were lost in the depths of his eyes. The flicking firelight from the torches scattered around the grand hall added a pleasant warmth to his porcelain skin, and the sharp cut of his cheekbones and jaw cast interesting shadows over his face that captivated you.

“Ah, there you are! Loki, have you been hiding away your songbird from the rest of us?” Thor bellowed, breaking the spell between you.

You tore your gaze away, taking a deep sip from your glass as you dipped your head in polite greeting to the Prince and his friends, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. Their faces were flushed red with drink and merriment, eyes somewhat glassy as they rolled between you and Loki. They paid little mind to the maidens draped along their arms, and you knew that few men were brave enough to attempt wooing Sif.

“Apparently not effectively enough,” Loki replied, swiping a glass of mead from a passing servant with a cutting glance that would kill if he had such abilities.

Thor seemed unbothered by his brother’s coldness, taking a hearty swig from the tankard he held clutched in one hand. “We were telling our companions of the battle that we won only days ago, but I was having difficulty recalling your part in the ordeal.”

You caught the hint of disdain beneath Thor’s easy words, played off as a jest between siblings, but very disrespectful when presented in mixed company. It made your jaw clench, and you quickly finished your glass of wine before handing it to Loki, who made it disappear without comment or moment of hesitation.

Loki’s smile was serpentine, with too much harshness in the pull of his lips and the hardness in his eyes. “Besides assisting the Allfather and his advisors in the strategy of the battle?”

Volstagg sank down onto a table behind him, pulling his female companion onto his lap and wrapping her in his arms. “With your tricks, you could have been absent from the fight entirely and none would be the wiser. It would be the sort of thing a silver-tongued serpent would excel at.”

“Just because he isn’t a great brute like you, does not mean that he does not have the skills necessary to best any enemy before him. There is much to be said for cunning and forethought, especially as he is planning your actions on said battlefield,” you snapped, your hands balling up into fists at your sides. You continued before you completely lost your nerve, already feeling it slip at the shocked attention of the group, “He is your Prince, and you would do well to remember that. He deserves equal respect to that of Thor.”

You felt the weight of their eyes upon you, watching you as your eyes shifted between them, unsure of who was safest to land upon. None was heavier than Loki’s beside you, but you had spent all of your bravery in your outburst. Unable to face the scrutiny any longer, you dipped your chin to Thor before turning on your heel and storming away, needing a moment of fresh air to cleanse the panic from your lungs.

It was bitingly cold outside with a faint breeze blowing about slowly falling snowflakes. You had always loved Asgard in the winter, the warm copper and gold of the city blanketed in brilliant white that cast a hush over everything. It never lasted, horses and footsteps muddying the snow and turning it into a foul gray-brown slush, but the moment was nice while it lasted. The crisp air bit at your lungs and your skin. The fine silk dress that floated from your skin with each movement was quite beautiful, but hardly practical for remaining in the elements for an extended period of time.

The scent of pine and spice, rich and inviting, enveloped you just before a heavy cloak settled over your shoulders. Loki. You would know the earthy aroma of his soaps anywhere. He adjusted it around your arms before coming to your side, leaning a hip against the stone balustrade so he was facing you, arms crossed over his broad chest. As always, he seemed wholly unbothered by the bracing cold.

“Am I going to face punishment for speaking to one of the Warriors Three so candidly?” you asked, digging your hands into the warm fur lining his cloak. The warmth was needed, but it didn’t stop the icy grip around your heart as the consequences of your actions began to race through your thoughts. It had been incredibly disrespectful of you, and in public, no less. Even if you weren’t reprimanded for it, you may lose your tenuous position singing for the royal festivities. Not to mention the dishonor it would bring to your family name.

“They laughed off your anger quickly. No harm was done to their fragile egos,” Loki assured you. He tilted his head to the side, studying you closely. “You need not defend me from them. They are fools.”

“But I must. They treat you as the dirt beneath their boots, and it boils my blood. You are deserving of far better treatment than Thor and his boorish friends bestow upon you,” you insisted.

An unreadable expression crossed his face, and he shifted closer to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fan across your face and radiate out from his body. His hand came up beneath the cloak to encircle your wrist, branding your skin with the light touch. “You honestly believe this to be true,” he said quietly, awestruck, searching your eyes.

This close, it was difficult for you to form a coherent thought and keep your eyes from trailing to his lips. Would they taste of the alcohol he had consumed moments ago? Surely that was your own imbibement speaking, causing the flutter of excitement in your chest and the color on your cheeks. But somehow you managed to piece together a quiet, “Of course. They are blind to the man you truly are.”

His fingertips grazed your cheekbone as his free hand left his side to brush a stray lock of hair - cold and wet from the falling snow - off of your forehead. His touch lingered, his hand falling down to slip beneath the hem of the cloak and grasp the back of your neck gently. “And who am I?”

It was a challenge, a question that demanded an answer by his soft yet firm tone. You dropped your eyes to the pulse racing in his neck, unable to think when staring into the face of such heartbreaking beauty. “A good man, one of thought and care. Loyal, to those who have earned it, and even to those who haven’t, for a time. Cunning, obviously, with intelligence that rivals that of anyone I know. And my dearest and oldest friend.”

The clearing of his throat drew your attention, and you were then transfixed by the tenderness smoothing across his face. “I am honored that you think so highly of me. But, I believe that I would be more than a friend, if you’d allow me?”

And when you said nothing, unable to process the intent behind his words, he lowered his head, first resting his forehead against yours. His nose rasped against your cheek, and you closed your eyes when the sight of his sooty lashes falling against unblemished cheekbones began to blur.

His lips, you discovered, tasted of bittersweet mead. Surely there must be some remaining on his tongue, for you felt thoroughly intoxicated as his hands dropped to wrap around your waist beneath his cloak, pressing your body into his. He swallowed your breathy sigh, holding you up against the weakness of your knees at the molten heat that rolled through you. At some point your arms wrapped around his shoulders so your fingers could tangle in the hair that brushed against his neck, eliciting a groan from him that stole your breath away.

“Will you allow me, Little Lark, to court you as I have desired for so long?” he asked after the kiss was broken, lifting his head just enough to see you clearly.

You rubbed your thumb over the leather covering his chest, emboldened by the throb of your heart in your kiss-swollen lips. “I am not of advantageous birth. It will not be a favored union.” You loathed to say it, but you had to, anyway.

His answering smile was full of so much happy mischief that you couldn’t help but match it. “Let them balk or whisper their grievances. You have been the only one in my sights for centuries. Say you’ll be mine?”

“I have always been yours, Loki. Why do you suppose I continue to perform in your colors?”

Lust darkened his emerald gaze. “Kiss me again. Like you mean it this time.”

The mirth on his lips was the sweetest nectar of all, banishing any frustration, anxiety, scorn, or melancholy that you had felt moments before. Because this was Loki, and he had always been your safe haven.

***

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet

Whole Shebang Taglist: @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @silverswordthekilljoy

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Well, you know I need to play...Fluff, #7, Tom. One day I will want to play with Loki...but not yet.

I’m so glad that this one was next, because I needed some fluff in my life! Before I knew it this was very much not a drabble any longer - I hope you don’t mind! Thank you for the request, bestie.

Gentleman

Tom Hiddleston was nothing if not a gentleman.

So, when he bumped into you while on his morning run, spilling your water all over the two of you - which was not pleasant in the chilled autumnal air, he had to offer some form of recompense for his misdeeds. On that occasion, that took the form of a cup of hot chocolate purchased at a small coffee shop just around the corner. The beverage replaced that which he had spilled, and you spent the time it took for your clothing to dry chatting away over the steaming mugs of decadent sweetness.

And when you were both standing up to part ways after hours lost to delight conversation, he couldn’t help but politely say, “I would very much like to see you again.”

You paused in tugging on your coat, eyes wide as you took in the sheepishly smiling giant of a man before you. “I’m sorry?”

He came around behind you, holding onto your coat to further help you slide into it. Once it was done, he patted your shoulder gently before standing before you once again. The simple act of kindness lit through you, warming you far more thoroughly than your cup of cocoa could ever manage. “Nothing too serious or formal. But it was simply nice to have a riveting conversation with such attractive company. I’d like to see you again, continue this later, if that’s all right with you.”

Your stammered agreement made such raw happiness shine through his sky blue eyes that any nerves you’d had were quickly soothed. You’d do anything to make that beautiful man smile, even if it plucked at the carefully guarded strings of your heart.

And that was how your friendship with Tom began. Over the next several weeks, you met up for countless coffee dates, quick lunches, bites of dessert after he was finished at the stage door, and aimless meanderings through a park nearby your apartment. Your comfort level grew with him, any anxieties set at ease by his ready smile and catching sunny attitude. When your attraction only increased as your unease decreased, butterflies multiplying rapidly in your belly and your fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to take his hand, you simply ignored it.

This was Tom Hiddleston, and you were, well, you. Someone who, on the grand scheme of things, couldn’t dare to believe that you were on the same level as him in all aspects of life. How could a regular person compete with everything that the world had to offer such a brilliant, handsome, talented man? It was best to take what you could get - his friendship - and be grateful for it.

You were. You were unendingly grateful for it, and for him. Despite the anxiety that crawled beneath your skin when you waited for him to come over to your apartment for the first time, you were excited. Everything had been thoroughly deep-cleaned in a whirlwind of activity that admittedly made you a little sore from all the elbow grease required, but it’d be worth it. Tom had mentioned he was homesick, frankly missing any sort of comfortable living situation that wasn’t a hotel room, and you had offered an evening watching movies at your place as an alternative. Sure, it was a Monday night because his schedule was hectic and crammed, but it was still exciting.

Your heart surged into your throat when steady knocks sounded on your door. Shoving it back where it belonged, you ushered him inside out of the light snowfall that had been traveled in with the latest cold front.

“Hello, darling. Thank you so much for having me,” he greeted you warmly, pressing a kiss to each of your cheeks before shucking off his worn black peacoat, hanging it on a hook beside yours.

Ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks, you gestured toward the couch as you trotted off quickly to the kitchen. “I’ll grab the snacks if you want to get settled. I already pulled up the movies, so you can just pick which one you prefer.”

When you came back bearing a tray of two steaming cups of hot chocolate and a plate of brownies, he quickly rose from where he perched on the couch to take it from you. He carefully placed it on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch, stretching his arm across the back of it and spreading his knees wide. It left you no choice but to brush your thigh against his when you sat down, almost tucked into his side from how much room he took up. Not that your racing heart was complaining.

Not much was said for quite a while. You both sat in companionable silence, drinking your cocoa and watching the movie he had selected. Only when the cocoa was gone did he speak up, interrupting your occasional glance at his carved jawline to look at you. “I hate to ask, but do you have a blanket? I have been so cold with the change in the weather.”

Apologies erupted from you so quickly that they were basically nonsense, and you jumped up from the couch to run back to your bedroom, grabbing the large throw blanket that you had spread out on your bed to add another layer of warmth.

“I’m so sorry about that. The blasted heating isn’t the best in here. I’m afraid this is the only one I have,” you said in a flurry, coming back and draping the blanket over his lean form.

He grinned genially, lifting the corner. “Mind if I leech a bit of your body heat as well?”

How could you say no to that? Unable to meet his earnest gaze, you curled up against him on the couch, tucking your feet beneath you and pressing your side into his. He adjusted the blanket around you both before dropping his arm over your shoulders. It was heavy and warm and you were enveloped in the heady masculinity of his cologne. How something that smelled so clean could bring you to think such dirty thoughts was beyond you.

“Better?” you asked, hating how your voice cracked as you tilted your head back to look at him.

He directed his heart-stopping smile in your direction, all white teeth and crinkles around his eyes that made your hands shake. You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with his brow furrowed in concern.

“Are your hands cold? You can hold my hand. It’s okay.” His arm moved beneath the blanket until you felt his fingers graze over your arm, trailing down until they slipped passed your wrist and laced with yours effortlessly.

Speech was honestly beyond you at that point, so you nodded, turning back to the television so you wouldn’t get lost completely in the depths of his searching gaze. If anyone asked you, you wouldn’t have been able to recount the details of the remainder of the movie. You were too busy focusing on the man beside you, his breaths moving his chest against the back of your shoulder, his thumb rubbing against your knuckle, the absentminded scratch of his index finger over the fabric covering your shoulder.

“Well, that was an excellent film in far better company. Thank you for having me,” Tom said quietly, speaking as if he were saying his goodbyes for the evening, although he hadn’t moved a muscle.

You dared to look at him. This close his breath fanned across your face, chocolatey sweet and tinged with something uniquely him that you longed to taste to fully unravel. This close you were hit with the full force of his beauty, the elegant slope of his nose, the razor-sharp cheekbones that drew your attention to the soft pink lips of his expressive mouth. You couldn’t think of anything clever to say in response, so instead, you blurted out what had been playing on your mind for the entirety of your friendship, “I still don’t believe that you’re real sometimes.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, squeezing all of the air out of your lungs. The hand that held yours ghosted up to your chin, finger and thumb caressing the skin there lightly to keep you from turning away. “This is real. I’m real.”

Who moved first, you weren’t sure. But in the next breath your lips were working together, teasing and testing the waters until you found a rhythm that more closely matched the pent-up passion that pounded in your chest. Your fingers found a home in the soft knit of his sweater, and his hand cupped your cheek while his arm only pulled you more tightly against him. It was sweet and addicting and you soon knew the taste of him - addictive, tantalizing, altogether too much and not nearly enough.

Your name upon his lips was a prayer when he finally broke the kiss, his nose nudging along yours as your eyes fluttered open. His pupils were blown and you felt the raggedness of his breath beneath your splayed fingers.

You wanted. You wanted so badly that it ached in your core and stole your breath. It wasn’t proper, it wasn’t right, and it wasn’t as if you had spoken on the subject at all. But he had all of the strings to your heart in his clutches, and he tugged on them once again when he answered your unasked questions with the playful nip of his teeth at your neck.

He was a gentleman, after all, and a gentleman did not leave his lady wanting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whole Shebang Taglist: @nonsensicalobsessions @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @silverswordthekilljoy

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Hi congrats on the 750! First time I request anything, a little scared. I wanna request one where Loki is living in stark tower as punishment for New York. Reader is living there too working as an assistant or something and gets really nervous/flustered around Loki. He finds out about her crush but shes to nervous to even touch him, somewhere along he uses the phrase You can hold my hand it’s ok when he catches her looking at his hand/retreating after trying to reach for it. FLUFF! Maybe a kiss?

Oh, I hope you never feel scared to ask for another request! I promise pretty much everyone on here is super nice! And you are always welcome to reach out and just chat with me if you want. :) I hope that this is close to what you had envisioned!

Selecting a Spot

Most of your time spent in Stark Tower was bustling around after Tony Stark himself. Your nose to your phone as you took notes, made appointments, and generally took care of the mundane aspects of his life that the genius of a man was too distracted or busy to do for himself.

But, occasionally, you were given a chance to take a breath, gather your thoughts as you tried to unscramble the distracted flurry of Mr. Stark’s. Your favorite place to do so was in the vast library on the recreation floor. It was almost guaranteed to be empty, and the plush furniture, warm wallpaper, and comforting scent of old books soothed your frazzled thoughts.

You dumped your belongings, comprising a stylish messenger bag loaded down with snacks, reusable water bottles, pens, notepads, a tablet, and various jagged corners of paper onto the overstuffed couch beside you. A fatigued sigh passed through your lips, and you kicked off your shoes to tuck your feet beneath you, swiping the tablet onto your lap and grabbing a few of the scribbled notes from the bag at random. When Mr. Stark couldn’t remember to tell FRIDAY to send you a message, he would just jot it down on whatever he could find, accounting for the edges of receipts, napkins, and even the corner of a calendar littering your lap.

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, making a pile of deciphered notes next to you as you either plugged them into his schedule or sent off an email with the information contained on them. It was tedious work, but you were exhausted, so you didn’t mind it.

“That is my chosen seat.”

You stilled at the low, rich voice, slowly drawing your eyes open from the bright screen. Loki stood in the doorway, eyeing you with the barest hint of disdain with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew that he was living in the tower. You sent off communications to SHIELD informing them of the updates on Loki’s ‘rehabilitation’, usually just reports that he hadn’t threatened anyone or destroyed anything. Everyone knew by now that a being stronger than himself had forced his hand during the Chitauri invasion, so his restriction to living amongst the Avengers was considered a ‘lighter’ sentencing for his crimes. Rumor had it that he had already spent time in some form of prison on Asgard, but you hadn’t dug your nose into the gossip mill deep enough to figure out if that was true or not.

But knowing that he was skulking around and facing the towering, striking god were two entirely different things. You couldn’t brush away the instant desire that clenched in your stomach at the piercing green eyes that latched onto yours and held them. All moisture dried from your mouth, and you suddenly forgot what you normally did with your hands when you were sitting on the couch.

“Um… I’m sorry?” you managed, wincing slightly at the crack in your voice. You began gathering your belongings, shoving them hastily in your bag with no rhyme or reason.

“No, stay,” he commanded you, striding passed you to sprawl onto a tall-backed leather armchair, summoning a book into his waiting hand. “Your perfume has already pervaded the space and will only distract me.”

So, not knowing what else to do, you resumed your work, only glance at him after every other email, sitting straight-backed and scarcely breathing the entire time.

The next time you were given a chance to yourself - Tony was spiraling into a project and wouldn’t come out for days - you hesitantly retreated to the library, sitting in the corner at a table instead. You didn’t want to upset Loki, to garner the attention of his fiery gaze, but you didn’t know where else to go, either.

He sauntered in only a few minutes after you, catching your attention when he came up to your table.

“You are not sitting on the couch.” It wasn’t a question, but the furrow of his brow told of his confusion.

You pulled your pen from between your lips, wetting them with your tongue. His eyes darted to the thoughtless gesture, and you could have sworn you saw his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare in response. Clearing your throat, you shrugged as nonchalantly as you could manage. “You said it was your favorite spot.”

He nodded once, turning on his heel and walking away. You barely caught his quiet response of, “That does not mean that you are required to move.”

And thus began the odd relationship between you and the God of Mischief. Anytime were given a break, you went down to the library, kicking off your shoes and settling into ‘Loki’s’ spot. He would come in not long after, pulling a book from thin air or summoning one to him, and sit on the other side of the couch. An entire cushion separated you, but it still felt so close. You’d cast glances at the elegant slope of his nose, the tick of his temple as he thought or the chiseled edge of his jaw as he tilted his head to the side.

You knew he was watching you, too. The weight of his gaze was almost a physical sensation, traveling over your skin and setting fire in its wake. It was a challenge to pretend that you didn’t notice. Surely he noticed the jump of your pulse in your throat or the way your hands shook as you sorted through scraps of paper and sticky notes. He said nothing, though, thank goodness.

But, after one evening, instead of taking up his mantle on the other end of the couch, he sat down right beside you after moving all of your various bits and bobs to the coffee table in front of you. The length of his thigh pressed into yours, warm and firm. You froze, shoulders tense, hand hovering over your tablet as your brain tried and failed to compute the sudden change in your routine.

“You come back to this room time after time, knowing that I will come.” He shifted his torso to face you, his arm coming up behind you on the back of the couch.

You gripped the tablet tightly, needing it to ground you and give your hands something to do. Somehow, you found enough courage within yourself to look up at him, offering no reply but a small nod.

He didn’t say anything, searching your face with narrowed, calculating eyes that seemed to see right through the terrible attempt at a calm facade you put on. He sighed lightly, pulling his arm back into his lap, a book winking into existence in one of his hands.

You tried to work, you really did. But it was so hard to focus on anything when his free hand curled on his leg, so close to yours, and the enticing aroma of his cologne slowly washed over you. It was masculine, spicy and clean and earthy, drawing you in just as much as his beauty did. Would he be a man that would take being called beautiful as an insult? Risking a glance at the thoughtful purse of his lips, you thought not.

He closed his book with an air of finality, shoving it onto the couch behind him before taking your tablet and giving it the same treatment.

“Look at me,” he commanded, not unkindly.

You instantly did so, eyes wide.

“Your heart beats faster when I am near you, and I am not mistaken in having heard your breath just catch in your throat. Your hands flex and shake in turn. I know you do not fear me, or you would not have returned.” He drew a long finger down your arm, making goosebumps raise over your skin.

“No,” you whispered, afraid your voice would betray you if you spoke any louder, “I don’t.”

“Then you desire me,” he concluded, mischief settling in the twinkle of his eyes and the grin tugging on his lips.

You couldn’t answer that. Couldn’t admit that you, just a regular woman interning in Stark Tower, had a crush on the handsome god gazing at you. He was intimidating, cunning, graceful, each movement filled with carefully restrained power.

“You do not deny it.”

You dropped your eyes to where his finger stopped at your knuckles, tracing over the ridges in slow circles that would quickly drive you mad. Your stomach tightened in a knot, either of desire or anxiety, you weren’t sure. Honestly, probably both. All of your senses kicked into overdrive at his rapt attention of your every movement and facial expression.

His long raven hair tickled over your face, and you closed your eyes just in time for his lips to caress yours. He was sweet, both in taste and touch, softer than you expected for such a fierce, domineering man. But there was nothing ferocious about the almost chaste kiss, or the warmth that flooded through you and loosened each muscle in your body.

“You desire me,” he repeated in a whisper, the words brushed across your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

“I do.” You couldn’t deny it. You stared down at his mouth, breathing him in as your hands itched to hold his, wrap in the soft fabric of the sweatshirt he wore, tangle in his hair, anything. He was right there, well within reach, but some tiny part of you was still too timid to take that step, to touch him of your own accord.

“You may hold my hand, if you would like.” His hand skated over yours, fingers lacing together in a comfortable fit, palm calloused and warm against yours. “We have already kissed, after all.”

The light teasing in the rich timbre of his voice broke the tension of the moment, and you tilted your head back, laughter tinged with relief spilling from you. He chuckled along with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling your head into the crook of his neck.

You felt comfortable, content and safe, in this new spot, encased in his strong embrace, his mouth anchored to the top of your head and your hands splayed across his back. This was much, much better.

***

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @silverswordthekilljoy

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Congratulations! Could you do a smut with Loki where its readers (human) first time attempting being tied up, something of the sort, but super light. Could you also have Loki keep checking on her to make sure she's okay, I recently read a smut that was not marked as non-con, and I'm a little on edge over it still. He says “Try and stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” (prompt 20) at some point. Lots of love, and keep being amazing!

Oh, Nonny, I am SO sorry that happened to you! That is 100% never okay. It is so important to properly label triggers on fics, especially very well-known ones like dub-con and non-con. That is abhorrent, and I hope that you’re okay.

I hope that this bit of smut tickles your fancy! Thank you so much for being so kind!

Warning: Smut ahead! Consensual use of restraints featured.

Silk Ties

“Open up, dear one.”

Loki’s hand tenderly cupped the back of your head, lifting it from the bed so that you could take a sip of the champagne that he held carefully for you. The chilled fizzy alcohol tickled against your parted lips before sweetness crackled across your tongue. You flushed when his eyes darkened after your tongue darted out to catch a stray drop on the edge of your mouth, his hunger for you evident in the heartbeat you could see racing in the smooth column of his throat.

“Are you comfortable? I do not want you to harm yourself.” His hands skated across the silk restraints circling your wrists before moving up your arms to rest against the side of your neck so his thumbs could rasp against the edge of your jaw.

You tested his work by tugging on them gently, finding that while they stopped you from reaching out to him, they didn’t cut into your skin or cause you any pain. “I’m okay.”

“If you wish to be freed from them at any moment, you simply say so,” he instructed you, spreading your bare legs to kneel in between them, allowing the heat radiating off of his naked body to warm you as he dipped his head to press a chaste kiss to the sensitive skin beneath your ear. “But other than that, try and stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

There was nothing but loving concern in his eyes when he pulled back to gauge your honest reaction to the question. Your heart thumped against your ribcage at the anticipation that made your skin positively thrum with electricity beneath the featherlight touch of his calloused fingertips down the middle of your chest to your soft stomach, but it was a good feeling. Pleasurable. You captured your bottom lip in between your teeth, giving him a small nod in reply.

He captured the stiffened peak of your breast in the hot cavern of his mouth, laving it with his tongue and nipping at it lightly in turn. Unable to guide him where you wanted, mainly the pulsing heat between your legs, you could only arch your back into him, sighing your frustration when his hands settled on the tops of your thighs.

Each caress of his tongue, tease of his fingertips, and graze of his teeth added more tension to the coil deep within you. You squeezed your eyes shut against the mind-numbing rapture of his fingers circling the pearl of pleasure at the top of your dripping sex. Your toes curled and your thighs squeezed around his head and you longed to tangle your fingers in his silky hair, map the breadth of his shoulders or place your hand overtop his as he palmed your breast.

You only got a moment of reprieve when he lifted his mouth from you to pepper your thighs with kisses, holding you open to his wanton perusal of your prone body with his hands on your knees. “Alright, love?”

Fluttering your eyes open, you tilted your head to the side, your breath hitching in your throat at the obscenely beautiful sight he created between your spread legs. Eyes gleaming with both pride and desire, lips shining in a mischievous grin, and hands pressing into your pliant flesh, he was the picture of deviant sensuality.

“Perfect,” you replied breathlessly, giving him as much of an encouraging smile as you could muster with your body teetering on the edge of ecstasy as it was.

That was permission enough, and he resumed his oral onslaught on your senses. The restraints keeping you from him had an unexpected side effect of freedom, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the sizzle of your skin from his searing touch. You had no other obligation but to feel, rolling your hips into him and grasping onto the smooth ties holding you willingly captive to the release that surged through you like a storm, tensing your muscles and stealing your breath away. It took everything in you not to cry out your satisfaction, your low moan bitten back behind clenched teeth at his fervent command.

He gentled you back down to him with the nudge of his nose up your body, brushing your overheated skin with his lips along the way, until he stretched out alongside you and splayed his hand over your heaving stomach. “Still fairing well?”

It was a herculean effort to open your eyes, your entire body loose and warm and practically melted into the emerald satin sheets beneath you. You knew you must look thoroughly ravished before him, with skin glistening with sweat and a contented smile on your lips, but Loki gazed down at you like you were the most exquisite woman he had ever seen. You longed to wrap him in your arms, hold him close so he could feel the drum of your heartbeat against his, but all you could do was hook an ankle over his calf, tangling your legs together.

“Well is an understatement.”

“Now to remove these damned restraints, so you can show me just how well I performed,” he purred with a wolfish grin, hands working deftly at the binding on one wrist. He leaned down to capture your earlobe between his teeth. “And this time, you will moan my name for all to hear.”

~~~

Little bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

oh hey, i remembered that i am a complete idiot and didn't mention the character for 4 +16 + " You don't need to live inside your shell all the time"(i think it was something on the lines of this): LOKI, I'd like myself a little Loki. well only if you don't mind 👀🤷❤️🤡

We all make mistakes! This one turned out to be more than just a drabble, just because there was so much to fit into it! I hope you like it, little gray face! It was a puzzle, for sure, but I think I figured it out in the end.

Family Fun Night

When there wasn’t a world to save or a dastardly villain to defeat, Friday night at Stark Tower meant family fun night.

And family fun night meant everyone who didn’t have any close actual family hanging out in the rec room, helping themselves to Tony’s fully stocked bar over pool and the card table. So far you were in a winning streak with Nat against Sam and Steve, and you’d be damned if you were going to let Sam have bragging rights over you just because you didn’t show. He was enough of a loudmouth as it was.

You were practically jogging down the hallway from your room, pushing your damp hair from your shower off of your face, when a flicker of movement in your periphery caught your attention. Slowing to a stop, you doubled back, poking your head into the large library that looked to contain just about every book in the universe.

Loki. He had adjusted his sprawled position in an overstuffed leather armchair, his large hands cradling a thick book in front of him. The distant chatter of your teammates reached your ears, seeming to intrude on the solitude and quiet that he had established amongst the tomes.

Come to think of it, he was always either in here, working out alone, or in his room. He never came to family fun night, never participated in potluck Sundays, and you couldn’t recall the last time you had seen him join in for your monthly movie nights. It seemed a lonely existence, to live with his head buried in books or lost in his own thoughts.

Your knuckles rapped against the doorframe without your permission, drawing his attention to you from his book. It was intense, even with the look of indifference plastered on his face, to be the focus of the stare of someone so powerful. His elegant brow arched up in a silent question that matched the impatient wave of his hand.

“Oh, I uh…” You shifted on your feet, realizing that you hadn’t actually planned on what to say, gesturing weakly down the hall with a tilt of your head. “Thought you might wanna join us? There’s pizza, and I know that you like that top-shelf whiskey Tony stocks. Someone with your skills could probably kick Thor’s ass at pool.”

He closed his book and set it down on the small table beside him. “I do not need to best my brother in a simple Midgardian game to prove my worth.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that. “It isn’t to prove anything, Loki. It’s just fun.”

“And you believe that I would have fun with you and the other pathetic mortals?”

Bristling, you stalked a few steps toward him, putting your hands on your hips. “We aren’t pathetic, Asgardian. I was just trying to do a nice thing and let you know that you don’t have to look so damn lonely all the time. If you brooded any harder I’m pretty sure you’re going to pop a blood vessel in your forehead.”

He rose, towering over you in two short strides. His emerald eyes flashed with the fire behind his glare. If looks could kill. “Do not assume to know me or my feelings,” he spat, the last word loaded with venom as if such basic instincts like emotions were utterly repulsive to him.

You wanted to stand your ground, you did. But he was one thousand kinds of terrifying right in your face, down to the hard set of his jaw and the flex of his long fingers at his sides. You backed into the doorframe, raising your hands in a show of peace. “Just trying to help you out. You don’t need to live inside yourself all the time, you know.”

He lifted his chin to stare down at you over the elegant line of his nose. “I did not ask for your help, Midgardian. And I never will.”

~~~

You were so screwed.

You, Nat, and Loki were teamed up on a mission to infiltrate a Hydra base to gather intel, and it had gone south in a big way. Nat had moved ahead, leaving you with Loki to watch her back while she hacked into their servers.

Only something went wrong, judging by what had to be every Russian curse word under the sun flooding your earpiece, followed by several gunshots. You flattened yourself against the wall, vision tunneling on the doorway directly across from you.

“Do you trust me?”

You turned your head, narrowing your eyes at Loki as he appeared next to you in a flicker of green light. Gunshots were still popping off behind you, echoed by Nat’s grunts. She hadn’t called for backup yet, but you still wanted to run in and help her. Your trigger finger itched.

But the urgent honesty on his face pulled your attention fully to him. It wasn’t like him and your heart turned to ice in the pit of your stomach. “I need to know that you can trust me,” he said quickly, daggers materializing in his palms. “Please.”

It was the please that got you. You hadn’t ever heard the word pass his lips before. You honestly hadn’t even known it existed in his great big overblown vocabulary. But if he was stooping so low as to plead with you, whatever it was had to be important.

Swallowing the acrid fear that crawled up from your stomach, you nodded your head. “Sure, I guess so.” As much as the situation could call for it. He was your teammate. Who could you rely on if not the man guarding your flank?

Bullets sank into the wall above your head. Pieces of drywall and paint rained down into your hair. You flinched, reaching for the guns at your thighs. Hands gripped your upper arms, pulling you tight to a leather-clad chest. Your head was cushioned into oiled armor, and then you were lifted to your feet a second later. Black, green, and gold filled your line of sight. The wall was rough against your back, but the body pressed into yours was somehow both hard and yielding at the same time. 

You could hardly breathe. Whether that was from his chest pinned against yours or the fear pounding in your veins, you weren’t sure. No time to find out.

“I’ve got you,” Loki assured you, his words soft and cool against your sweat-slicked forehead.

The gunshots stopped just before the sound of bodies hitting the floor. You craned your head backward to look up at Loki, who had his face tilted down to you even as his eyes darted around to see as much of the room as possible without moving.

“You two okay in there?” Nat asked, her voice tinny and breathless in your ear.

Loki’s arms fell from where they had come up protectively beside your head. He lifted a hand, his calloused fingertips tilting your chin this way and that to inspect you, the barest hint of concern making it through his practiced mask of indifference to furrow his brow. “We are uninjured.”

His touch scorched your skin, but you couldn’t move away. Did you want to? What was that thought? Eyes wide, you slipped your unused gun back into your holster. “All good here.”

“Good. I got the data and took out my guys, but I’m sure they’ve got friends coming. Let’s get back to the jet.”

And Loki stalked away just as quickly as he had appeared.

~~~

“You’re late and Sam hasn’t shut up since he beat us the last four times! Get your ass in gear!”

You rolled your eyes at Nat’s voice projected through the speaker in your ceiling, shoving your foot into your shoe. “I’m coming. Unless you want me to show up half naked-”

“I wouldn’t complain-”

“Zip it, Sam. I’m coming, so prepare yourself for a beatdown. And if you eat the last slice of double pepperoni it won’t just be with a pool stick!”

You shoved your phone into the back pocket of your jeans, standing up and leaving your small suite of rooms, resisting the urge to grumble childishly about your teammates’ impatience. They could wait a few extra minutes so you weren’t a disgusting sweaty mess.

“What is this I hear about your lack of clothing?”

You stopped in the doorway of the library, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. You couldn’t resist. “The topic pique your interest, Asgardian?”

He rose gracefully from his chair, all lean lines and withheld power as he walked over to you. The mischief gleaming in his eyes and the smirk on his lips did terrible things to the butterflies that had suddenly taken residence in your belly. “Oh, I am more than interested, mortal.”

His fingers ghosted across your arm, setting fire in their wake, and then he was walking away from you. Toward the sound of your friends laughing and carrying on as was typical of a family fun night.

It took a moment for you to pick your jaw off the floor. Another to remember how to breathe. And another for your brain to process the heat that had burned in his gaze as it dragged down your body.

You rushed off after him, your finger pointed at his back. “Okay, am I going crazy or did you just say that out loud?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Little bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball

Whole Shebang Taglist: @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @myoxisbroken @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @silverswordthekilljoy

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Hello there! First of all, congratulations, 750 followers really is something! Can I have number 18 with Conrad, please? Maybe the reader is a bit sassy and a bit of a "I'm not doing that because you say so" type of woman? And it leads to some smut? Thank you!

It is ASTOUNDING to me. Truly, I don’t understand it at all. However, I appreciate your continued support so much! I hope that you enjoy!

Obviously there is smut after the cut. You have been warned.

Operation Sheets

“That doesn’t go there!”

“I believe that I know how to properly make a bed, darling,” Conrad replied dryly, standing up straight from the bed with the top sheet gathered in his hands.

You stubbornly held onto the other end of the sheet, keeping him from tucking it into the bottom of the bed as he had been trying to do before you stopped him with your outburst. “I fully believe that you believe you know how to do it, but the top sheet doesn’t get tucked in.”

He yanked hard on the sheet, ripping the slippery fabric through your fingertips. With the barest hint of a smug smile, he got back to work.

“No, you don’t,” you cried, throwing yourself down onto the mattress, pinning the material beneath your body. “You aren’t turning our bed into a foot prison! Especially when we both just kick it back out anyways.”

His large hand settled on your hips, rolling you over onto your back so you were grinning mischievously up at him. It was truly unfair how he was still so attractive upside down, causing your stomach to clench as your eyes followed the sharp line of his clean-shaven jaw up to his piercing blue eyes.

“I spent several years in the military. I know how to make a proper bed,” he replied stonily. With absolutely no warning, he flipped the sheet over you, trapping you in a cocoon of clean-smelling linens. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

You squirmed on the bed, wiggling and giggling as he climbed onto the mattress and straddled your hips so he could fully encase your torso and arms. When he was finished he supported his upper half on his hands beside your head, towering over you with a pleased gleam in his eyes.

“I am not a bed, and I don’t think that this is proper technique,” you grumbled, doing your best to appear upset, but even you could hear the smile lacing your words.

He narrowed his eyes at you, drawing his gaze down your restrained form as if he were carefully analyzing his handiwork. “No, I do believe that this is the proper form. Or I may have gotten it confused with trapping a mouthy combatant.”

You bucked your hips up against his, pleased when his breath hitched in his throat and his pupils expanded to hide all but the outer ring of the stormy blue eyes that held yours. “All I know is,” you said slowly, rolling your pelvis against the hardening length of his arousal against your lower belly, “one of us is right, and the other one is you.”

“Really?” he asked, shifting so that he could draw a finger down the side of your face, dragging over your collarbones. “Because you seem to be the one who cannot move, so I’m not sure you have much room to speak.”

You rolled your eyes before arching your hips against him once again. “I’m not sure why we’re still speaking at all with that in between us.”

“Fair point.”

He quickly bent down over you, lavishing open-mouthed kisses on the smooth column of your throat that sent waves of desire to the apex of your thighs. The hand that had been teasing your collarbones descended to trace over the curve of your breast, but only lightly, the touch more frustrating than pleasing with the several layers of fabric separating you. 

His lips curved into a smile at your whine of desperation, and you groaned at the obvious enjoyment dancing in his eyes when he lifted his head. He silenced your various noises of discontent with the slant of his mouth over yours, the taste of his toothpaste cool and sharp and tightening in your stomach almost as much as his hand as it forged a path up your thigh.

With a parting nip on your bottom lip, he left you, moving down the bed to gaze appreciatively at the skin he revealed as he pushed the sheet up to gather around your waist. Your back arched off of the bed at the touch of his fingertip over the soaked cotton of your underwear, hissing your breath through your clenched teeth.

The cool air of his breath through pursed lips onto your throbbing and heated center was almost your undoing. It was the sweetest torture, your hands digging into the fabric of your shirt beneath your trappings as you slowly lost yourself to the ecstasy brought about by his darting tongue and thrusting fingers. You longed to run your hands through his short reddish-blond hair, anchor his chin in between your legs, hold onto his broad shoulders for some sort of tether to this world, but all were denied you. The man knew his way around your body, and he snapped the coil of tension inside you quickly, humming his appreciation for your quickly-reached orgasm against your soft lower belly.

You were still trembling from the aftershocks when he released you from the sheet, unwrapping you efficiently before he divested himself of his own clothing to wrap himself in protection. Your sleepshirt was practically ripped from you and tossed across the room. He rolled you onto your sides, throwing your leg over his hip and wrapping his arms around you to hold you steady for his relentless thrusting into you.

The sight of him slowly succumbing to his pleasure, the clench of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils and the furrow of his brow, did more to stimulate you back towards your second orgasm than his hips rolling into the hardened bundle of nerves at the top of your sex. Your hands found purchase around his back, clinging onto his shoulders so that your chests were pressed tightly together, dragging his fine chest hair across your nipples in electric shocks that went straight to your core.

His forehead fell against yours, and his panted breaths quickened as they blew across your flushed face. Your moans joined together in the room, increasing in volume as his hips increased their speed, slamming into you and lighting you up from the inside out.

You cried out your pleasure into his cheek, his hips snapping into yours only a few times more before he did the same into your ear with a low groan that made goosebumps spread across your skin.

He rolled away from you to dispose of the condom before sprawling out onto his back, tugging you towards him with his hand on your shoulder. You resisted, slipping out from his grasp to kneel on the bed beside him. Quickly you gathered the sheets into your hands, wrapping his arms against his torso in a way that trapped him almost as thoroughly as he had done to you earlier.

“What are you doing, love?” he asked, laughter and exhaustion weighing equally on his smooth accented voice.

You smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead before kneeling in between his legs. Your hands settled on his muscular thighs, fingernails lightly rasping against his skin. “Giving you a taste of your own medicine, of course.”

***

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @myoxisbroken @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Congratulations my smut sister! This is just the beginning. #9 with Tom and your usual amazing smutty fluff.

Thank you so so much! I hope that this is what you had in mind!

Lockscreen

“Are you ever going to answer your phone? The incessant ringing is liable to drive me mad.”

You didn’t look up from where you were pulling groceries out of their bags on the kitchen counter, shrugging your shoulders. “Doesn’t bother me, Tom. Shouldn’t a great actor like yourself be able to tune out distractions?”

He came up behind you in a cloud of heady cologne that washed over you like a balm, soothing and electrifying all at once. His long fingers easily pulled your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hey!” You whipped around, fixing him with your best glare. You ripped the phone from his hands, slamming it down onto the counter with a little more force than was necessary. 

Maybe he didn’t see…

“Am I your lock screen?” he asked, a grin slowly forming on his face, his sky blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

Your face on fire from embarrassment, you ducked your head, staring at the white button-up shirt your best friend wore to avoid his all-seeing gaze. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

His arms came up on either side of you, boxing you in against the counter. Slowly he moved forward, pressing against you. Your heart threatened to jump out of your chest it beat so rapidly, and each push of his chest against yours stole just a bit more of your breath.

“Oh, but I am so glad that I did,” he murmured, accented voice low and dripping with sin. His hand came up to hook his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to him. The look in his eyes, curiosity laced with lust, held you under their spell. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

His hand smoothed over the skin of your neck, thumb grazing your jaw, while the other curved around your waist. His touch seared into you, branding you as his, the intentions beneath the movements clear. When you didn’t say anything - your brain had gone blank beneath the promise in his smile - he dipped his chin and kissed you.

It was everything you had imagined, soft and warm and Tom. Your hands circled around his shoulders, delighting in the flex of his muscles when he suddenly lifted you up onto the counter behind you. You broke the kiss with a laugh, your head falling back.

He took the opportunity to suck and lick at the offered skin of your throat, sending tingles of electricity shooting down your body to gather at your core. His hands skated down your sides to your thighs, pushing your legs open so he could step in between them. You were very aware of his hardening arousal pressing against your jeans-covered center, rocking into you in time with his hot, open-mouthed kisses over your collar bone and pulse point.

He was everywhere. The scent of him, clean soap and spicy male, filled your nose with each sharp inhale. The firm touch of his hands into the soft flesh of your thigh and waist sent your head spinning. Your hands were filled with the fabric of his shirt and the flexing muscles of his back. It was too much and not enough. Never enough.

“Tom,” you managed to gasp out, rolling your hips into his, the pleasure clouding all but your basest desires.

He lifted his head, pupils blown and eyes glazed as he waited for your response. The elegant planes of his face caught the light of the kitchen wonderfully, and his kiss-swollen lips just begged to be soothed by your own.

“Not here. Bed.”

His answering smile sent waves of anticipatory pleasure through you, making your skin prickle into goosebumps. He captured your lips in a thorough kiss, tongue coaxing out soft moans from deep within you.

Panting, he broke away from you, taking your hand and tugging you down from the counter. “There isn’t any time to waste.”

And you had to practically run to keep up with his quick pace as he led you back to your bedroom, to finish what he had started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whole Shebang taglist: @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Firstly, Congratulations on the 750 milestone! I'm so proud of you!! I was wondering if you could do number 13 on your prompt list with Conrad? Congratulations once again!!!

Thank you, friend! You’re so kind! I hope this Conrad drabble finds you well.

Promises

It had been a little over seven months since you had last seen Conrad. Well, thirty-two weeks. Well, two hundred and thirty days. But who was counting?

It wasn’t as if the memory of his leaving you wasn’t constantly at the forefront of your mind. Always lingering at the edges, brought into sharp focus whenever a crisp British accent floated to you through the crowd, or you caught sight of a muted blue shirt. There were several times you thought you saw a tall strawberry blond head above the crowd, only for it to be a decorative headscarf or trick of the sun on your tired eyes.

“I’ll return to you, I promise. I must help this family, and then I will be right back in your arms. I’ll find you.”

But these fervent promises, murmured against your hair before he tore himself from your clinging hold, hadn’t yet come true. His absence was a physical ache in your chest, wrapping around your lungs and tightening until it felt like you’d never take a deep breath again. Your eyes had dried their tears and your mouth had set itself in a permanent frown long ago.

And when you were forced to move from Vietnam to India by the charity you worked with, the reason you had even bumped into each other in the first place, you had given up all hope that he would be able to find you. Sure, he had quietly admitted to his prowess in tracking during one of your many conversations had over your pillows and clasped hands, but finding someone in an entirely different country seemed nigh impossible.

Sighing heavily, you gathered your belongings and shoved them into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“You heading out, bon?”

You waved tiredly at your coworker, a dear friend who had taken you under his wing when you had made the transition five months prior. “Yeah, Dada. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

Shuffling your feet, you joined the mass of people leaving the building for the evening rush, already daydreaming about curling up on the couch in your pajamas with a hot cup of tea.

Until somehow, among the cacophony of voices and cars outside, you heard your name called out above it all, carried on a warm British accent dipped in hope and dragged through gravel.

Your eyes darted around frantically, matching the thud of your heart against your ribcage. There. A head taller than everyone else, your decommissioned soldier stood a rock among the river of people, stormy blue eyes locked onto you. You’d recognize that steady stare and light head of hair anywhere.

Bodies bumped into you where your feet had stopped cold, muttering insults and curses at you. But they could be calling you every horrible name under the sun and you wouldn’t care for the sight that you were greedily devouring at that moment.

And then he grinned, lips pulling back and eyes crinkling, and it broke the spell that had kept you frozen to the pavement. You lurched forward, pushing through the crowd to step into his open arms. You breathed him in deep into your deprived lungs. He was smoke and pine, earthy and male and the exact tantalizing scent that had since faded from your sheets and your skin. Security and relief wrapped around you with the warm embrace of his arms, holding you to him like he was afraid you would disappear should he let go. But come hell or high water, you weren’t going to allow that to happen.

“You found me,” you sighed into the blue linen covering his broad chest. How he had managed to do that, you hadn’t a clue. But he was a tracker, a damned good one, and it now seemed foolish to have doubted his skills.

“I promised you I would,” he replied, the sincerity of his words muffled by his lips in your hair. His hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face back so he could look at you properly. Tired eyes caught the attention of yours and held them with their intensity. “The thought of losing you was the most excruciating pain I’d ever felt. I’ve been searching relentlessly for weeks.“

The tense muscles of his back relaxed with your soft caress. His admission caught in your throat and pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Are you here to stay?”

Oh, that answering smile was devastating. More deadly than the various weapons he had at his disposal. “Nothing could take me away from you.”

You stood on your toes, hooking your arms around his neck to tug him down to your level. No more words were needed as your lips pressed to his, melting into him. He was firm and giving beneath your touch, masculine and rugged and everything that made your heart sing as his hands gripped the pliant flesh of your hips to hold you to him.

But most importantly, he was yours, and he was back where he belonged.

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Whole Shebang taglist: @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @silverswordthekilljoy

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Congrats on the 750 followers! I read number 11 and said “that’s gotta be Tom!” I’ll leave the details to you love, but I (the reader) need a dance with this man! Thank you love and congratulations again! 🥳

Thank you so so much, @catsladen! You’re so kind! This is what came to mind as I’ve been thinking on it, so I hope you enjoy!

Swaying in the Shadows

The darkness of night allowed for many activities that daylight did not.

Such as kisses stolen in the shadows, breaths mingling and hands roaming over hard planes and supple curves. Tongues tangling and hearts soaring into throats with each fervent brush of lips. His hands bunching the fabric of your shirt against your back and your fingertips teasing at his short auburn curls. Your name, whispered against the arch of your throat with heated breath, lost to the din of cars passing by and a city going about life without knowledge nor care of your hidden tryst.

And when you broke apart, finally, laughter bubbling out of you at your almost adolescent hunger for each other, he laced your fingers together and guided you back onto the sidewalk, keeping you close to his side. His cologne lingered on your skin - dark and masculine - and you couldn’t stop smiling with kiss-swollen lips and eyes gleaming with adoration.

Tom pulled you to a stop next to a cafe, soft music playing through the speakers for those dining on the patio. The chill in the air had driven all of the patrons inside, but you couldn’t feel it for the warmth of his affection that spread through you like sweet honey - molten and languid.

“Dance with me?” he asked, releasing you to put one hand behind his back, the other offered to you with a slight bow of his waist.

“Here, Tom?” You glanced around at the relatively quiet street, not even catching the eye of those hurrying passed you. “Someone will see us.”

His hand caught yours, lifting it up and onto his shoulder, before his other hand grasped yours to hold out from your sides. He led you in slow, simple steps that were easy to follow, his smile soft as he gazed down at you. “Then let them. What matters most in this moment is sharing a dance with the love of my life.”

Your cheeks heated against the biting chill of the breeze and your forehead dropped lightly onto his shoulder to hide your pleasure at his antics. Wasn’t this why you had fallen in love with him? The childlike enthusiasm in which he approached life, doing what called to him in the moment and caring naught for what others thought? The wonder that he refused to lose despite the fame and accolades that followed his name. Right now, with his broad chest pressed into yours, his hand curled around your back and your fingers closed over his, he wasn’t anything more than your Tom.

“You’re only getting away with this because you’re such a fine dancer,” you teased, lifting your head to return his fervid stare, biting back your smile with your bottom lip between your teeth as you feigned seriousness.

He spun you out from him, tugging you back into his body with the gentle wave of his wrist. Your arms ended up around his shoulders, the two of you now swaying together like love-struck teenagers instead of performing a meager imitation of a waltz. His embrace was firm around your back, comforting and strong as his eyes lit over your face with all the tenderness in the world. Your breath was stolen from your very lungs with the quiet intensity of it.

“Never trust a man that can’t dance,” he whispered, lowering his head until his forehead rested against yours.

You closed your eyes, breathing him in in the small bubble of happiness and warmth that you two created in the spotlight of the dim streetlight. The world could wait, just for a moment, while you spun in your lover’s arms.

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Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @catsladen @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @silverswordthekilljoy