LOKI WILL BE BACK! If you only knew how happy I am that Loki will be in the next Avengers: Doomsday! He's finally going to leave this tree. I'm crying with joy! 🥹😭
Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.
Tags - 18+, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation on a washing machine, dirty boxer sniffing (you fucking freak), fantasizing about a dirty old man, unprotected piv, creampie, curmudgeon joel talks you through knife safety, washing machine repairs, and overstim. 8k words, idk what the fuck happened.
Thank you to @noxturnalpascal , @beefrobeefcal , and @papipascalispunk for helping me edit this monstrosity and @joelsgreys for letting me scream about washers and dryers for days <3
A/N - i have worked harder on this than my finals, but that should surprise no one. i only have one more left and then you should be seeing more of me this summer <3 i have a lot a lot a lot planned and I've been so excited to share new shit with you. Roman girlies, I haven't forgotten about you. He's up next. Anyway, you maniacs know what you’re here for, so please enjoy.
Joel’s best kept secret is his Whirlpool brand washer and dryer set, which is hidden deep in his basement. You stand before it now, loading your dirty laundry into it, using what is definitely too much of Joel’s detergent.
Perhaps it’s more accurate to say his washer and dryer set was his best kept secret, until you came along and forced his hand. Everything was fine, and then you showed up, both yourself and your basket of laundry soaking wet, leaving Joel with no choice but to lend you a hand. Biggest mistake of his life.
As great as Jackson is, it still comes up short sometimes. Not with everything; you’re beyond blessed to live in the safety of its walls. Just technologically, sometimes it can leave you missing the finer things. It's not Jackson’s fault society is twenty years into an apocalypse, thus running on twenty-plus year old appliances. The older ovens, refrigerators, and other appliances that were built in the seventies to the nineties or so are surprisingly doing alright, but the ones built when manufacturing began to take a turn for the worse around the later nineties and 2000s are beginning to crap out, especially the washers. God, you hate laundry day. The washers at the laundromat in Jackson always give you a hard time. Week after week, your chosen washer won’t start, or it’ll stop mid-cycle. The laundry attendant, Patti, often helps you wash your clothes by hand which is nice, but still frustrating for you both.
On a busy and gloomy Sunday a couple months back, you were lucky enough to pick one of the less temperamental washers and hardly had to fight or beg and plead with it to get it to wash your clothes. However, your luck ran out when it came time to dry, your dryer wouldn’t run. Refused to start, even with Patti’s help. Worse yet, every other dryer was in use at the moment. You were shit out of luck. Patti offered you a sympathetic smile and sent you home with a baggy full of clothes pins and a wagon to carry your basket of sopping wet clothes. The clothespins were a nice gesture, but didn’t help much as you didn’t have a clothesline. And - you had to laugh - most of them were broken. Oh dear, sweet Patti.
Once at home, you did your best to hang up your clothes on your porch, laying them out over the thick wooden railing, securing them with rocks. The wind was blowing something fierce that day, and then you felt it – a raindrop. And then another, and another. Before you knew it, you were caught in a torrential downpour, with your clothes blowing every which way. Working to gather your clothes as quickly as possible, you haphazardly chucked the rocks that were keeping them still in every direction, your neighbor Joel interrupting the task when he came outside and started to shout at you. Joel’s a man that can only be described as crotchety. A curmudgeon, even.
“The fuck are you throwing rocks at my window for?” he shouted, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wind and the rain smacking your porch.
“What?” you yelled back, “Joel, I can’t hear you.”
“ROCKS,” he shouted again, “Why are you throwi–” Joel realized it was a lost cause then. He could see in your face that you couldn’t hear him, you looked puzzled and annoyed for a moment before you returned to throwing rocks and gathering clothes. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself. Through the pouring rain, he marched across both his and your lawns and right up the steps of your porch. “What are you doing?”
“I was at the laundromat and the dryer stopped working so Patti gave me clothespins but I don’t have a clothesline so I tried to lay them out on my porch with rocks so they could dry but then it started to ra–” Getting the picture, Joel had stopped listening to you and joined you in gathering your clothes tossing stones back into the rock edging surrounding your house. “What are you doing?” you asked.
“Nothin’, just– come on. Let’s go – we’re goin’ to my house,” he answered, dumping the last of your clothes into your basket.
“Why?”
Lightning shoots from a nearby cloud, with booming thunder following suit. Joel’s soaking wet, as are you. His hair was dark and stuck to his forehead, his thin t-shirt clung to his body, outlining his soft, pillowy tummy and belly button and his thick, muscular biceps. “Go, go, go,” Joel shouted, waving you away. “Just go. Move.” he grunted as he lifted up your laundry basket and hauled it across the grass in quick strides. He held the basket on his hip as he opened his door for you, guiding you inside with a push to your lower waist.
Your shoes squeaked as you followed Joel through his house. He took your basket down his basement stairs, “Be careful for me, stairs are steep,” he warned you, “Don’t need you crackin’ your skull open. Got enough shit to deal with.” It was sweet, knowing that he was looking out for you – even with the irritation lacing his tone.
You couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw what Joel had led you to. A washer and a dryer, olive green in color. He opened the door of the dryer and shoved your wet clothes inside it, then took off his own soaked shirt and pants and tossed them in too. “They’re clean,” he told you.
In another lifetime where the world doesn’t go to shit and fungus is the least of your problems, the mundane appliances in front of you would be the very last thing on your mind. You’d be focused on Joel, watching rivulets of water slide down his jaw, past his Adam’s apple and pool in the hollow of his throat. You’d be tracing the outline of his body with your eyes, following that thin line of hair that spreads down his lower stomach, disappearing under his boxers. You’d be eyeing his thick bulge and the way that if you squint, you could see the outline of his cock. But in this life, in this moment – where the world went to shit a long time ago – you’re more amazed by the washer and dryer he stands next to. “This is why I never see you at the laundromat? The whole time, you’ve had a washer and dryer?” you asked, astonished.
“M’not supposed to, but yeah,” Joel answered, shutting the dryer door before turning to you with his chin tilted down, eyebrows raised. Don’t you go tellin’ anyone, now.”
“I’m gonna tell Patti.”
Joel looked betrayed and puzzled. “I’m doin’ you a favor,” he reminded you.
“I know.”
“You want me to dry your clothes or not?” You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as you shrugged. “Oh, Christ,” Joel grumbled under his breath. “Why the hell would you go and rat me out?”
“Because, Joel, ” you began explaining, “All of the washers and dryers are breaking and you’re hoarding your own? I don’t think so – if everyone else has to share the washers, then you do too,” you scolded. “It’s selfish.”
“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.” You stared at Joel for a moment before turning on your heel to go tattle on him, just like you swore you would. “Wait–” Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you. Despite being long gone from Boston QZ, Joel couldn’t quite shake those smuggling and bargaining habits of his. You were serious about this threat, and he knew it. You’d march your ass through the pouring rain to go snitch on him to Patti. And really, the worst that would’ve happened to Joel would be a scolding from Maria and the washer and dryer removed from his home and placed in the laundromat. It’s not like he’d be placed in a pillory and have rotten tomatoes thrown at him. But still. Joel liked his washer and dryer. He sighed. “What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything, Joel. I just want to better our community.”
Give me a break. “What do you want,” he repeated, his voice lower.
You pressed your lips in a thin line, eyeing those pretty olive green appliances of his. It’s not a far walk to Joel’s house… And you wouldn’t have to wait in line to wash your clothes behind twenty other people. You did want to better your community, that much was true. But you weren’t opposed to bettering your own life. “Let me use your washer and dryer. Whenever I want.”
Joel was quick to counter in a stern voice, “Twice a week, tops.”
“Three times,” you tried.
“Once,” Joel lowered his offer and then looked at you with his eyes squinted, his head cocked to the side. “Who does laundry three times a week?”
It was a fair point. Even with your very own washer and dryer, you wouldn’t do that much laundry. “Fine. Twice,” you agreed, and Joel held out his hand for you to take and you shook on it. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm. In that moment you met his eyes, taking in the beauty of his face. Those sparkling, big brown eyes and the beautiful curve of his aquiline nose. Your eyes traveled lower still, and it hit you both at that moment - the realization that Joel was wearing nothing but his boxers, and that you were still shivering in your cold, wet clothes. Joel dropped your hand quickly and grabbed a clean t-shirt from one of his own laundry baskets on top of the dryer. “Here. You can change into this and toss your clothes in there too, f’ya want.”
“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking the shirt from his hand. “Do you have something to wear?”
“I’m a little behind on laundry, actually…” Joel trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. You scoffed and chuckled at that. The luxury of his very own washer and dryer, right in the comfort of his home, and Joel had the audacity to be behind on laundry. “Uhh, anyway. You just turn the knob on the dryer to ‘high’ and press the start button. I’ll give ya some privacy to change, you can meet me upstairs when you’re done,” he said, and then shuffled past you.
Once Joel was up the stairs, you took off your clothes and put them in with the rest of the clothing in the dryer. You changed into Joel’s t-shirt, the fabric was soft with time and many wearings, and it smelled like him despite being washed. It was a muted teal in color, littered with a couple of bleach stains here and there. You liked it.
Upstairs, Joel made a couple of mugs of hot tea to warm you both up. “Honey?”
“Yeah, Joel?”
“N- no, like…Was askin’ f’ya wanted honey in your tea.”
“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Y– yes please. Thank you.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks. What a stupid thing to say. You watched as Joel stirred a bit of honey into your cup of tea, smirking as he then handed you the mug. Asshole. “Thought you were a coffee drinker,” you mused awkwardly, attempting to change the subject after taking a sip of the hot liquid, “You like tea?”
Joel grimaced in disgust as he took a sip of his own tea. “No. Just tryin’ to be polite for ya.”
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, you know,” you smiled into your mug.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aaand there it is. Curmudgeon Joel was back, Neighborly Joel never lasted long anyway.
You sat on Joel’s couch, warming up with your cup of tea. Joel had noticed goosebumps on your thighs and pulled a blanket over your lap. He sat next to you with his mug steaming in his hands and just stared at you, not even realizing how deeply he was admiring the way his shirt hugged your curves just right, highlighting all the right parts of you. He jolted when he felt his cock thicken in his boxers, spilling his scalding hot tea all over his bare thighs. “God bless it,” he swore. Without thinking, he pulled the blanket from your legs and covered his own lap to hide his growing erection from you.
“Joel, what the fuck?”
“Nothin’. Just– m’cold,” he lied. “Jesus fuckin’- just - c’mere,” Joel huffed as he patted the spot next to him and urged you closer, then laid the blanket back over your legs. You sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as you sipped your tea and Joel’s went cold. Dork.
Moments passed. You sat in silence, the only sound was the rain pounding against Joel’s windows as your heart fluttered in anxiety, or maybe excitement. You might’ve even called it butterflies in your tummy. But you knew better. It was just the close proximity to Joel. And the fact that you were wearing his shirt, and he was practically naked. All of it pretty insignificant, honestly. It was basically nothing.
Joel finally spoke first, “Was thinkin’ it’d be best if you’d come by at night, when I’m on patrol or somethin’. Nobody’ll see you with your laundry and it’ll stay our lil’ secret, yeah?” You nodded, still a little bashful with everything that had happened. You aren’t often like that. It’s cute, Joel thought. “An’ you can use my detergent and whatnot. Whatever you need, s’yours.”
“Thank–” an especially bright flash of lightning followed by nearly deafening thunder interrupted you. You startled and sort of hurled yourself closer to Joel, grabbed his forearm and held it tight. It was just a reflex, probably. Basically nothing.
“It’s just a storm, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna bite ya,” Joel teases with a grin.
“Oh, shut up,” you let go of his arm and missed the warmth of his skin beneath your palm almost immediately, but your longing for his touch was quickly soothed. Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side as you listened to the sounds of the storm together. You stayed like that, inhaling the sweet scent of him, masculine and heady. He smelled like the rain, too, and the hair on his underarms tickled your skin but you didn’t mind. When your laundry dried, he carried your basket home for you. You thanked him and moved to shut the door, but Joel stopped it with his hand, “Washer can be sorta delicate sometimes, so just be careful with it.”
“Noted,” you replied. “See ya, Joel.”
“See ya, hon.”
A few nights later, you returned to his home with your basket of laundry. Joel was gone, on patrol as he often is at night. Doing the laundry was uneventful , even though you probably used too much detergent, but whatever. Joel didn’t have to know. The next time you did laundry, Joel was at home. He told you not to worry about whichever nights you come by, that he’d always leave the washer and dryer empty in the evenings for you to use. He was even generous enough to make you dinner that night.
It all worked out. Joel’s washer and dryer stayed unknown to the rest of Jackson, and your laundry was cleaned in a much more efficient way. There really weren’t any flaws in your and Joel’s system, as long as you didn’t include the one laundry night where Joel was gone on patrol again, but had come home just as you were leaving. You bumped into him accidentally, causing a lacy pair of your panties to fall right out of your basket and onto his shoe. He bent down and picked them up for you, not even realizing what he was holding. “Oh. My bad,” he blushed, once he recognized the garment. “I’ll just…” and put them back in your basket. From that point forward, he was always careful to stay out of your way. Aside from that it really did all work out.
-
After loading your clothes into Joel’s washer, you shut the washer door and turn it on. You make your way upstairs and there’s a note on Joel’s table – Leftovers in the fridge are yours if you wanna heat them up.
Opening the fridge, you see a neatly packed container of what looks to be chicken and vegetables. Yum. God, you’ll miss these vegetables when it gets cold again. You take advantage of the offer and heat up the food in a pan on the stovetop, humming to yourself as you stir the food to keep it from burning. A light flickers above you. Weird. It flickers again, and then finally goes out. But it’s no big deal, you’ve seen in Joel’s basement that above the washer and dryer is a shelf full of supplies and you know there’s a couple of bulbs there. You go back downstairs where the washer hums, working its way through the cycle.
“Hmm,” you hum to yourself. You’d never quite realized just how high up that supply shelf is. And the bulbs are in the middle of the shelf, so there’s no good way to get them without climbing on top of the washer, which Joel would probably kill you for doing. He did ask that you be careful with his fragile washer, after all. Whatever. It’ll take like six seconds, tops. You hoist yourself on the washer and first try kneeling on it to see if you can reach one of the bulbs. No luck. You stand on your feet then, raising yourself up carefully, slowly, feeling the washer shake slightly beneath your feet. Joel would be absolutely irate if he saw you like this now. When you finally grab one of those light bulbs, you carefully lower yourself to a seated position on the washer to catch your breath. You’re not usually prone to vertigo, but Joel’s wobbly washer brought the dizziness on. You know better than to try and move right now, so you just settle yourself down to avoid fainting.
The washer vibrates under the flesh of your thighs. It’s a gentle sensation, lessened by the angle you’re sitting at. But if you focus really hard, you can feel it in your core. Curious, you spread your legs and turn to the corner of the washer, tilting your hips to the floor, and oh, this is it. You’re not even thinking about potential consequences when you shimmy your shorts and panties off, then find that sweet spot once more. The metal of the washer is cool against you as it vibrates, sending sweet little buzzes through your hot core. You’re not quite wet yet, just enjoying the sensation. Letting it build and build, seeing where it can get you. You let your mind wander, not really thinking about much in particular. The low hum of the washer fades away in your mind and you’re starting to become wet. Shifting your position, you extend your arm to find something to grab onto when you feel fabric. Joel’s clothes. He’s still a slacker with keeping up on his dirty laundry. Usually it would irritate you. It does irritate you, this exorbitant waste of an advantage he has. You look at the shirt in your hand, the same shirt Joel had lent you. You think back to that first time you did laundry here at Joel’s, how he sat next to you nearly naked. The feel of his skin and the smell of him - sweat and rain and musk. And Joel being the beautiful, incognizant man he is, probably had zero clue of how sexy he looked. Or smelled, for that matter.
With Joel now on your mind and his shirt in your hand, you decide to experiment, create a better ambiance. You keep those images of him in your mind, those feelings too. You remember the low timbre of his voice, the rain splashing against the windows, the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders. And with his dirty t-shirt clutched in your fist and its armpit pressed against your nose you remember his scent. Smell is a powerful sense, closely linked to memory and emotion, his shirt and what it’s doing to you is a testament to that fact. Legs spread wide, your hips angled down with your clit pressed to the corner of Joel’s washer, the machine vibrating under you as you inhale his scent deeply - you’re back in that memory. And then some.
In your mind, your back on Joel’s couch. You can smell him, feel him, and if you really concentrate, you can even taste him. You’re on your knees and he’s drawing lazy patterns on your back as you suck his cock and fondle his balls, and he’s moaning, grunting and whimpering your name. He tastes like he smells, heady and all masculine. He grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, guides you to straddle his hips. His forehead pressed against yours, he notches the tip of his cock inside you and pulls you down slowly, careful so as not to hurt you but it does, of course it does. Not that you mind, you love the stretch and the ache of his thickness splitting you in two. You rock yourself, grind your clit against that unruly patch of hair at the base of his cock. You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re coming.
You’re coming. Loudly, whimpering Joel’s name as you rut against the vibrating machine. As you finish, so does the washer. It sings you a little chiming song indicating the load is done washing. You can’t help but giggle at that as you bask in the discovery of this fortuitous delight. You’ve got private access to a washer and dryer and a vibrator now too? Lucky, lucky, lucky.
God, Joel’s shirt smells good. You inhale it deeply, wondering if he wears cologne. It smells almost woodsy…smokey, even.
Fuck. You’re smelling smoke.
You pull on your pants and sprint up the steps, racing to Joel’s kitchen only to find that the chicken and veggies you were heating up are no more. They’re black and shriveled, cemented to the stainless steel pan, and there’s no salvaging that. No amount of scrubbing can erase your masturbatory mistake. Fuck, Joel’s gonna kill you. Your only choice is to conceal the evidence. Surreptitiously, you take the pan and hide it under a bush outside Joel’s backdoor.
You’ll be more responsible next time - yes, there absolutely will be a next time. Gas off before you get off.
The next time came and went. And the time after that, and the one after that. Laundry was always your least favorite chore, but with access to Joel’s washer and dryer and this new trick up your sleeve, it’s not so bad. Getting off on Joel’s washer has become a weekly thing and it’s been lovely, relieving, dirty, and exciting, but you’d be lying if you were to say it’s been perfectly fine the whole time.
You’ve been abusing the poor machine. It’s no secret. You get every bang for your buck out of the washer, taking full advantage of Joel’s twice a week offer and then some. Some nights you’ll sneak over and do an extra load, wash a blanket or something just to make the washer run for your masturbatory purposes. And so, the vibrating sensation the machine produces has begun to weaken. In order to compensate, you’ve been rocking yourself harder on it, which probably isn’t helping. But it’s still washing your clothes, right?
…Yes. Mostly. It still washes, but it’s become sort of finicky. And the door doesn’t quite shut the way it used to, and it makes an odd noise now that it never made before.
Tonight you’re at Joel’s doing a double load of laundry. There were no ulterior motives on your part when you came over, honestly and truly. Your first load is drying, the second load is in the washer. Joel’s home tonight, he’s gonna cook you dinner like he always does when he’s around. For such a grouch, he wears his heart on his sleeve.
It would be more accurate to say you’re cooking dinner together. Joel came home with a basket full of fresh vegetables from the market and actually put you to work, his reasoning being that he was starving and wanted dinner ready yesterday, and that having your help cutting up the vegetables for the meal he was making would have dinner ready that much sooner. He places a cutting board in front of you and hands you a knife, “Chop chop,” he says, then laughs at his own pun as he rifles through some cabinets. “Missin’ a saucepan…” he mumbles to himself. Oops.
You start by peeling the carrots. As you begin to chop them, you realize he didn’t give you any sort of instruction. “Joel?”
“Yeah, hon.”
“How small do you need me to cut the carrots?”
“Uhhhh,” he thinks. “Lemme see.” Joel turns around and watches you with a look of disappointment and repulsion painting his features. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What?” you ask defensively.
“Why are you tryin’ to cut off your fingers?”
You look down at your hand holding the carrot and your other hand holding the knife, then up at Joel. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m not trying to cut off my fingers.”
“Sure looks like it to me. Is that always how you handle a knife?”
“Yeah,” you reply, “Why?”
“‘Cause you’re gonna cut off your damn fingers, dammit, that’s why. C’mere,” Joel stands behind you where you stand at the island, then lifts up your left hand and curls your fingers underneath themselves. “Keep your fingers like this,” he instructs. “Holdin’ your fingers out flat like that are a sure fire way to cut ‘em off. Now show me how you chop.”
With your fingers in the proper position now, you begin to cut the carrots. They wobble beneath you, you hate the way Joel has you holding them. “This is uncomfortable,” you tell him.
“You know what’s more uncomfortable? Missin’ fingers. Keep goin’.” You groan but keep chopping per his demand. He’s pressed against your back, one of his palms lays flat against the countertop, semi caging you in as he watches you work. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re makin’ me nervous. Gimme this.” Joel wraps his hand around yours on the handle of the knife. He moves the knife for you, cutting the carrot slowly, your hand securely in his. “You’re liftin’ the knife too much, sweetheart. Just rock it back and forth for me. Just like this,” he whispers, showing you how he rocks the knife in a fluid motion to cut the carrots. His hands are warm, his grip on your hands is firm. His breath is hot and tickles your ear, sending goosebumps erupting down the back of your neck. He chops the carrots quietly, and you feel him against you - the rise and fall of his chest and tummy with each inhale and exhale he takes, his wiry scruff kissing the side of your face. “That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl.”
Fuck. His words go right to your core. As if him holding your hands and caging you in to teach you how to cut vegetables wasn’t enough, he had to call you ‘good girl’ as well. That had to be deliberate on his part, you’re almost certain of it. And now you’ve got to pay his washer another visit. His fault, honestly. “Laundry,” you blurt out, pushing his hands off of yours and shrinking away from his hold. “Sorry. Gotta check the laundry.”
“Oh. Alright, then.” Joel watches you pace down the basement stairs and listens to you pretend to check on your clothes, opening and shutting the washer and dryer doors. He’s waiting for you to come upstairs, but you never do. “You comin’ upstairs?”
“Yeah, just a minute,” you call back.
“There’s spiders down there, you know. Big an’ fuzzy too.”
“I’ll be fine,” you yell as you unbutton your shorts and pull them down your legs. “I don’t mind them.”
Your reply immediately has Joel feeling suspicious of you. Even a mention of a mere ant should have sent you running into his arms and pleading with him to get rid of it. On more than one occasion, Joel’s woken up to you pounding on his door in the middle of the night begging him to come kill a spider that’s in your bedroom. And he always does, of course, even when the spider is miniscule and simply minding its business in a corner somewhere. He’ll scoop it into the palm of his hand and set it outside in a bed of flowers, call you a wimp and be on his merry way, grumbling the entire walk home. He wonders why the hell you’re so brave all of a sudden.
A loud, clunking noise interrupts the silence. “Oh, fuck,” you swear. And Joel’s deaf, but not deaf enough to not hear you. “What was that?” he calls from up the stairs.
“Nothing!”
Joel knows it wasn’t nothing, it certainly didn’t sound like nothing. You quickly pull your shorts and panties back on when you hear him stomping down the stairs to investigate. Wracking your brain to think of a lie to tell Joel, you realize you’re fucked, utterly and completely. It would’ve been more appropriate to think of one before now, probably around the time the washer started to make weird noises. Now you’re faced with god knows what consequences.
Joel greets you with a puzzled and angered expression. “What the hell happened?”
“I d– I don’t know. Just something… Happened, I guess,” you stutter. Subtly, you stuff the used pair of his boxers you were smelling down the back of your shorts to hide the evidence of your even dirtier secret. Joel sees that you’re avoiding eye contact, looking up and away, scratching your head. The silence hangs heavily in the air and Joel sees the guilt on your face and that your shorts are undone for some reason. “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth before this becomes a much worse day for us both.”
“Nothing happened–”
“Nine, eight…”
You fold instantly. “I sit on it,” you confess, Joel exhales in frustration. “Sit? As in… this is a regular occurrence, you’ve been sittin’ on my washer,” Joel asserts. You nod in confirmation. “Why.”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, another lie.
“Well, how much have you been sittin’ on it?”
“Just like…a lot, I guess.” You look down at your feet, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.
“Why?” he asks again.
“It…uhh…sort of…” you mumble, picking at your fingernails.
“Sort of what?”
“Vibrates.”
Joel’s face falls at the admission. “You’re not serious,” he says, but he knows you are. “Oh my god.”
“Stranger things have happened, right?” Your voice wavers as you try to soften the blow with a joke.
“Unbelievable,” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “No. Stranger things than you have not happened, sweetheart.” After taking a few deep breaths, he pushes you to the side and reaches for the shelf above the washer for a toolbox. He takes out a putty knife and wriggles the front of the washer off, then drops to his knees to inspect the washer. “Did I not ask you to be careful with it?” It’s a rhetorical question. Joel groans when he sees what’s broken inside of the washer.
“What is it?”
“Belt’s broken,” he answers. “You’re lucky s’fixable.”
“Oh,” you say. “Well, it’s good you can fix it, right?”
“Oh, no. You are fixin’ it, my darlin’. You broke it.”
Joel’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re putting his washer back together. “I don’t know how,” you tell him. You’ll make it up to him in any other way than this, but there’s no way he’s serious. Besides, he’s now the first to know that your track record with washers isn’t to be trusted.
“I’ll walk you through it,” Joel replies plainly. “Get down there. On your knees, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at him. “Now,” he says, unimpressed with your defiance.
You drop to your knees in front of the washer, looking for the broken belt that Joel speaks of. You find one of the big and fuzzy spiders he was talking about instead. “Jesus!” you yelp, launching backwards and nearly knocking Joel over in the process “There’s a spider, Joel - kill it, kill it, kill it, Joel - kill it, please,” you beg.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s harmless.”
“Joel!”
Joel nudges you out of the way to find the spider sitting right at the bottom of the washer. He scoops it into his hand, then holds it in front of you, “I thought you said you didn’t mind ‘em,” he taunts.
“I lied. Get it away from me,” You shove him away from you, and he clutches the spider more carefully in his hands, laughing.
“Yeah, I know you lied. You’re very bad at it,” Joel opens one of the basement’s egress windows and sends the spider on its way, then closes it and returns to you, first grabbing what looks to be a replacement belt for his washer from a nearby shelf. Leave it to Joel to have the most convenient yet obscure supplies right in his basement twenty years into an apocalypse. “Back to work.” You’re in front of the washer once more, and Joel takes his seat right behind you. “See that black belt at the bottom of the drum?”
“No.”
“This thing here,” he points at it with his finger. “Take it off,” You reach for the belt and tug on it a bit, “Gotta wiggle it a bit,” following his instruction, you wiggle the belt and it falls off the drum. “Attagirl. Now put this one on,” he hands you the new belt and takes the old one from you. “S’gonna be snug.”
You struggle to stretch the rubber over the drum and it snaps your hands when it slips. “Fuck.”
“Keep tryin’. Put some elbow grease into it, hon,” Joel hovers over your shoulder, just as he did earlier in the kitchen. “M’just checkin’ to make sure you got it lined up properly,” Joel tugs on the rubber belt, making sure it’s sitting where it needs to. “So tell me again how long you been doin it for,” he whispers. “Long time?”
You answer cautiously, “Uhhh…a while now, I guess.”
“Yeah, I figured. S’it feel good?”
The question throws you off, makes you nervous. But his voice is low and gravelly, and his tone isn’t pointed or accusatory. He seems curious, but for what reason, you’re not quite sure yet. “It does.”
“Better than your fingers?” Joel tightens the belt a bit and leans back. He’s watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes. You gasp when you feel his warm palm sliding underneath your shorts. “What the–” Oh, fuck. Joel found his pair of boxers. He holds the fabric in his hands, a knowing grin on his lips. “These are mine. What’re you doin’ with my dirty boxers?” he asks. He doesn’t allow you time to stutter out an excuse. “You’re a dirty lil’ bird, aren’t you?”
“Joel.”
He tosses his pair of boxers onto the dryer and whispers in your ear again, “I asked you somethin’. My washer feel better than your fingers?”
“Yeah,” you answer, “Better.”
Joel hums in amusement. He slides his hand down the front of your pants, still unbuttoned from earlier. “Saved me the trouble, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” he breathes. Your breath hitches when his fingers find your mound, as he toys with the curls there. He traces over your lips, then dips a finger between them, circling your hole, then circles your clit. “Better than mine?” he asks, dipping a finger into your center and you moan. He holds one hand on your hip as the other pumps in and out of your center, and you lean back into his chest, relaxing with his touch. You sigh deeply. “Don’t get all cozy on me, now. You ain’t done. Gotta put the front of the washer back on, should just click right into place.”
Joel pulls his hand away from you so you can lift the front piece of the washer. “It’s not–” you complain, struggling to click it into place the way Joel says it should. You push and push, but it doesn’t budge. “Joel, it’s not–”
“It will. Just try.”
“I am,” you argue, shoving it once more but to no avail. You’ve grown frustrated by his washer, by the task Joel bestowed upon you in fixing it, and his teasing, too. In a fit of anger, you stand up and kick it.
“Hey, easy,” Joel scolds. “Look, like this,” Magically, the front piece of the washer fits right into place, just like he said it would. He does nothing different than what you did, it just works out for him. Of course it does. “You’re impatient, huh?” he murmurs, moving behind you. You gasp when you feel his hands on your hips, tugging the fabric of both your shorts and your panties down to your ankles, he helps you out of the garments and tosses them elsewhere. His hands are on your hips again, this time guiding you, whispering, “Back, back,” as he positions you where he needs you, spreading your legs apart. You’re leaning on his washer and he’s on his knees behind you, using his nose to tease and part your slick folds. He inhales you deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal before he tastes you. He traces your lips with a pointed tongue, up and down, before he dips his tongue into your heat, savoring you.
“How ‘bout my tongue?” he purrs, whispering against your skin. You don’t answer, and it’s not like you could anyway, with the way he devours you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, his fingertips are digging harshly into your thighs like he means to bruise you, tear the flesh off your bones even. It’s possessive in nature, but not abusive or aggressive. You know his actions aren’t borne of anything except pure pleasure and you indulge in it, in him. He moves slow like honey as he tastes you languidly, kissing you. He laps your velvety heat, his tongue teasing all of your sensitive, slick flesh. Now and then the wiry hairs of his beard will tease and scratch your inner thighs, a sensation that tickles you and rubs you raw all the same. “Oh my god,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to take hold of his head, fingers tangling in his graying curls and waves. “Joel, oh my god.”
Joel takes your lack of a real answer to his question as a no, his washer pales in comparison to his tongue. Good. He bets you’ve fantasized about him, all those times you’ve used his washer for those needs of yours besides washing your clothes. And he bets that you probably grind yourself on it, picturing it’s his warm flesh beneath you and not the cold metal of the machine. He’d be right. He sucks your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. He nips at your folds, sucking one, then the other between his plump lips, then focuses his attention back at your clit. You’re moaning his name, the only word you know anymore. Joel keeps you still, held tight in his arms so that you can’t push your ass back and grind against his mouth like he knows you’re fighting to do. All you can do is take it, feel his perfect aquiline nose tease between your cheeks. He’s buried himself face first in your most private place as he consumes you voraciously, his tongue flicking and swirling and painting you. You’re biting into your own arm, seeing stars as you come on his tongue. It’s an elusive sort of orgasm, the kind where you don’t exactly know where it begins and it ends. All you know is that you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive and Joel is relentless. Your knees buckle as he toys with your clit, gives you a break for a moment before he’s right back there again, continuing to eat you. He keeps going and going, repeating the actions over and over again just to make you cry and beg, “Stop - please - I can’t, I can’t, Joel. T-too much.”
“Know it’s too much, sweetheart, s’why I’m doin it,” Joel coos. But he obliges, places one last kiss to your heat, soaked by his spit and your own arousal before he stands up behind you. He wraps one arm around your stomach, pulling himself close to you. You can feel his hard cock against your ass, separated only by his denim as he uses his other hand to turn your face to the side, meeting him beside you. He kisses you, tracing his tongue along the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, then feel his hand leave your face to reach for his fly. You hear him unzip his jeans slowly, and then he’s pulling his cock out, still kissing you as he lines up with you, first parting your thighs with a gentle nudge of his knee before notching his tip at your entrance. He finally pulls his mouth away from yours and gently forces your chest down toward the washer. He pushes himself into you, careful so as not to hurt you but deliberately so that you still feel that ache, the stretch of his thick cock separating your insides. Joel continues holding your body close to his as he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlacing his fingers in between your own. “How about my cock, sweetheart? You like it better, worse?” he whispers, kissing, nipping at your ear in between words. He pulls out of you nearly all the way, then pushes back into your dripping cunt.
You try to answer, “Bet - oh, ahhh,”
Joel chuckles at the way he’s reduced you to nothing but broken syllables and moans. “Ohhh, listen to you. I think it’s better, huh? S’that what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” You nod frantically. “Yeah, I know, beautiful.”
His pace is slower to start, but it builds in quick time. You can feel he’s fighting with himself to be more gentle than he actually wants to be, his thrusts sloppier than he intends, like he’s losing himself in you. You’re lost in him, lost in the moment all the same. You take it all in, the lewd and obscene sounds of the pleasure he creates with you - his thighs slapping against yours and the gushing of your cunt on his cock. Your moans, your cries, all babbling nonsense. And Joel’s deep breaths in and out, shaky and stuttering as he does it. His grunts and his swearing, a whimper here and there if you listen closely. He fills you up perfectly, hits that sweet spot deep inside you over and over and over…
“You coulda had me like this the whole time,” he pants, “Didn’t have to go an’ break my washer f’ya needed somethin’ more than those fingers of yours, sweetheart. Know you been needin’ some lovin’.” He reaches for your breasts, squeezing and groping the flesh, twisting your nipples and smirking when you twitch and whine. “All you had to do was ask.” You don’t respond, but he doesn’t expect you to anyway. What he did expect, however, were your moans of displeasure as he pulls out of you. He knows, oh, he knows how empty you must feel, you poor thing. He’ll soothe that. He flips you around, seats you on his washer. “I’m gonna make you come again,” he promises, “I’m gonna watch.”
“Too much, Joel, I can’t,” you cry. You want to come again, really. But you don’t think you have it in you, still so worked up, overstimulated by the endless teasing of his tongue on your pussy.
“Oh, don’t cry. You can do it, hon. You can take it,” he says, “Open up those legs for me, darlin’.” Joel pushes your trembling legs wide so he can slot his hips between them, then wraps your legs around his waist before sliding his cock into you once more. He thrusts just once, rather harshly, before he’s met with another rather loud noise from the washer. Joel halts and scratches the back of his neck. God, he hopes he didn’t just do it in. “Probably shouldn’t…uh…”
“Yeah,” you agree.
“Did you use my dryer too?”
“Duh,” you answer. “How else would I dry my clothes?”
Joel rolls his eyes, “No, smartass. Were you usin’ it for your dirty work, is what I’m askin’.”
“No.”
Still inside you, Joel slides you over to his dryer. “Good girl. Poor washer’s been abused plenty by you already.”
“But I will,” You whisper defiantly under your breath, wrapping your arms around his neck as he adjusts.
“Wrong ear, sweetheart. My right one’s deaf. I heard that loud and clear.”
Joel’s back to fucking you in an instant. He wastes no time in making good on his promise, thumbing your clit as he rolls his hips into you. “See, look at you. Takin’ me just fine,” he praises.The way you squirm and take your shallow little breaths fills him with satisfaction and delight. He knows this isn’t easy, that you’re tired and sore and overstimulated. He’ll be done with you soon. “Come with me, wanna feel you come with me, sweetheart,” he says. “Focus here, eyes on me. You’re gonna come with me.”
It’s a few moments of Joel painting your clit with those tight, steadied circles as he fucks you hard and deep. There’s a push and pull to it, where you’re not sure who this is for - yourself or Joel. Just like before, you’re not sure where it starts and stops, but you’re there. God it’s intense, you’re gonna break and you know it. Joel’s got his palm on the back of your neck, squeezing you. His jaw clenches and he’s coming undone first, but he never loses focus on you. His thrusts stutter as he milks himself in you but doesn't yet stop - he’s making sure you’re gonna come. “C’mon baby, c’mon. Give it to me,” he says. “One more for me. Last one.”
His words are all it takes. You whimper and moan, cry his name as you find your climax. Release washes over you the way waves crash onto sand - it’s repeated, the way the tides push and pull. Deafening. Powerful.
But there’s a calmness yet. The rolling of his hips slows, slows, stops. He presses his damp forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay?”
You nod and smile, “Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles with you and helps you off of the dryer. Joel finds your clothes and dresses you in them, steadying your shaky legs.
Joel tentatively restarts the washer. It chugs a bit, but makes all the right noises and he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re a bit startled when he takes you by the arm and marches you up the stairs. “New rule,” he says, “You stay with me when your clothes are washin’.”
You bite your lip to hide your guilty smirk. “Yes. Joel.”
“And I still need you to cut them veggies for me, too.”
I struggled heavily with this fic, comments and reblogs would be much appreciated if you were feeling so inclined🙏 they keep me motivated and I look back at your words when I’m writing to remember that I’m capable of pleasing you all
She had been absent lately, and you assumed the missions were to blame. That maybe she had been assigned to a lot more than usual in the past month. But when you mentioned this in passing to Steve, he disagreed. To his knowledge, she had been in the tower far more frequently than he was.
Yet you rarely saw her around.
Only catching a glimpse of her in the bi-weekly team meetings. You’d catch her eye and throw her a friendly smile. She’d return your smile quickly, though hers seemed a bit strained. It was odd.
Then you started to feel her eyes on you more and more, especially when you weren’t looking her way. But that didn’t prevent you from feeling her intense stare burning into you.
Her strange behavior made you feel uneasy, and eventually, you planned to find out what was going on with her.
However, you found yourself short on time lately, hence why you hadn’t tracked her down to talk to her yet. Your classes were about to start up at NYU again. You had about a week and a half until you started school again, and you were just as excited as you were the year before.
You ensured you were registered for all of your courses and extracurriculars that you thought would look good on your resumé. You wanted to do all you could to participate in everything going on around you.
There was even a mixer the school was throwing for women in STEM that you were getting ready to attend tonight. As much as you disliked those kind of events, you knew it’d be smart for you to network as much as you could. It was a pretty important thing to do for your career.
You looked around your room with a heavy sigh. Thanks to you, it was a complete mess.
Clothes were strewn across your bed and all over the floor as you tried on a bunch of different outfits. Everything from pantsuits to dresses and anything in between. Yet nothing seemed to do the trick.
Huffing in frustration, you continued to dig through your closet and pull everything out until you finally found something that you liked.
The dark blue dress you adorned was good enough. It felt appropriate for the event. It wasn’t too flashy but also not completely boring. It seemed to fit the ‘business casual’ dress code standard. Whatever that meant.
A knock on your door interrupted your frantic trek to the bathroom. Spinning around on your heels, you hurriedly ran to the door.
Assuming it was Natasha coming to provide you with much needed help, you pulled the door open without hesitation.
“Perfect timing! Can you help me- Oh.”
You blinked in mild surprise as you came face to face with Loki.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you were Nat.” You chuckled.
He stood there with his hands in his pockets, observing you with a curious look on his face.
“Am I interrupting something?” He inquired, lightly raising a brow.
“Yes. No? I’m not sure.” You shook your head, gesturing him inside. He closed the door behind him.
“Just trying to get ready for this school event at some fancy restaurant. I don’t do very well with dressing for these kinds of things. If it was up to me, I’d show up in denim overalls.” You joked half-seriously.
Neither of you thought twice when he followed you into your bedroom. It wasn’t the first time that Loki had been invited into your space.
His brows rose at the state of your room. You knew it wasn’t exactly a pretty sight.
You rubbed your forehead, looking around. “Yes, I know. It’s a mess. This is basically what my brain feels like whenever I have to do things like this. I just feel so overwhelmed.”
Padding barefoot over to your vanity, you placed your hands on your hips as you contemplated what to do next.
“You shouldn't concern yourself with your appearance. Not to this extent. It is quite unnecessary.” you heard him say.
You spun around to see Loki sitting at the edge of your bed with an expectant look on his face.
“There’s nothing unpleasant about you, and no reason to drastically change who you are, especially not at the expense of others. You are what makes you, you.”
You looked away from him, turning back to the mirror. You were pretty sure you still looked a hot mess, at least to your standards.
But one thing you knew about Loki was that he didn’t mince his words. He wouldn’t lie to you.
You cleared your throat. “Well, um, thanks,” you muttered. “I still need to fix my hair.”
You grabbed a hairbrush and a couple of hair products and turned to face him with a sheepish smile. “I’ll be right back.”
You could feel his eyes following you as you fled out of your bedroom and into the bathroom.
You didn’t understand why such a simple comment from him made you feel all strange inside.
Loki was your friend, and the last thing you wanted to do was make things weird between the two of you. You didn’t know why this was happening but you had to get yourself together. Fast.
You supposed that things felt different because Loki was no longer in a cell. He was free (mostly), and you both were finding yourself in different circumstances and situations. Things were evolving and that included your friendship.
You just hoped it was for the better.
When you were done messing with your hair, you entered the bedroom again, finding Loki standing by your bed with a picture frame in his hand.
It was the one you placed on your nightstand with you and your mom. You were about four years old in that particular photo, smiling widely with a couple of missing teeth.
“She looks just like you.” He said, a small smile growing on his face as he observed the photo.
“Technically, I look like her,” You chuckled, slowly walking towards him.
“She cared for you immensely. That I can tell,” he said with a slight furrow of his brows. “I can see it in her eyes.”
You nodded in agreement. “She really was the best. I miss her a lot.”
He smiled halfheartedly, suddenly looking to be saddened by the photo, and you had a feeling you could guess why.
You trailed closer, biting your lip nervously.
“Do you… Do you miss your mother?” You inquired with slight hesitance.
He placed the frame back down carefully.
“Yes,” he wearily confessed. “Very much so.”
He paused for a moment, seeming to be in deep thought. “I don’t believe I have ever experienced a loss with such intensity before. Not with anyone else.”
You moved to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. “What was she like?”
He followed your movements, walking over to slowly sit beside you.
“She was… good. One of the purest yet strongest people I knew. Her name was Frigga.”
“Pretty name.” You looked down at your lap, smiling. “I may have heard of her before. She was a powerful goddess, after all.”
Loki hummed, nodding his head. “Mmm, quite powerful indeed. She taught me how to wield seider, among many other things.”
“Sounds like she made quite an impact. Especially on you.” You remarked. “Her legacy lives on within you and Thor. I’m sure she’d be proud of the person you’ve become.”
He frowned deeply as he stared in front of him, mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to protest against your words.
“Do you believe so? That she would… be proud?”
You let out an amused scoff, a wide grin growing on your face as you faced him. “Yeah! Of course, she would. One of her sons is the Loki Laufeyson after all.”
You nudge him playfully. “He’s kind of a big deal around here. Just as much as his brother. An Asgardian prince? The god of mischief? Ring a bell?”
An amused smile of his own slid onto his face. “Yes, I think so.”
“If Thor asked me if I ever said this I would totally deny it,” You prefaced. “But if I’m being completely honest I think your god status is super cool. Even better than Thor’s.” You smirked playfully.
“I mean, the god of mischief? That’s so sick. What a cool title to have! The god of thunder on the other hand….” You trailed off, searching for the right word.
“Sounds kind of… pretentious.”
The melodious sound of Loki’s laugh almost startled you.
It was a sound that made you truly appreciate having the ability to hear. His rich, warm tone resonated through your room. You felt a pleasant warmth in your chest as you observed him. You found yourself desiring to do everything in your power to keep him making that sound. It was wonderful. Magical even.
When his laughter eventually calmed, you hadn’t realized that you’d been staring at him until Loki turned to face you, head slightly tilting as he met your gaze.
You snapped out of your brief trance, looking away quickly and catching sight of the numbers on your alarm clock. You rose to your feet in an instant, eyes widening.
“Shoot! I gotta get going or I'll be late for the mixer.” You stressed as you frantically searched around your room. “Shoes, shoes, where are my shoes?”
You crouched down to grab a pile of clothing from off the floor. “I can’t find it in this mess.”
“Do not fret, little one. Allow me.”
Loki stood up from the bed, and with one quick motion of his hand, your room was back to normal in a green flash.
The floor had been cleared of any clothing, and so was your bed. You looked down at your now empty hands, the items you previously held had also disappeared.
You spun around to face him with a look of disbelief.
“Wha...How did you do that?” you asked incredulously.
He shrugged lightly. “Simple cleansing spell. Nothing extraordinary.”
“Well, that was pretty damn extraordinary to me.” You huffed in amusement, searching around the now tidy room. “Where did everything go?”
“Back where they belong I’m assuming. Check your wardrobe.”
You opened your closet to see everything back in its rightful place, including the pair of heels you had lost in the masses of clothing.
You grabbed them, standing on one wobbly foot to put them on.
“I didn’t know you could do that. Actually, I don’t think I know the full extent of your-”
As per usual, you failed at your attempt to stay steady on your feet, stumbling forward clumsily as you tried to put the second shoe on.
Loki quickly caught you, grabbing your waist to keep you steady. “Careful now.” He gently warned. “Don’t need you hurting that pretty little head of yours.”
Your cheeks heated as you straightened yourself, apologizing for your clumsiness.
“I don’t know why I’m such a clutz. It’s a miracle if I can get through the day without tripping over a leaf.” You shook your head, meeting his eyes with a gentle smile.
“Some things just never change I guess. Thanks for your help tonight.”
He nodded, hands finding their way back into his pockets.
“Anytime. And truly,” Loki searched your gaze before his eyes traveled down the rest of you. His green eyes were earnest when he met your gaze again.
“You look beautiful, little dove.”
The mixer was being held at an upscale restaurant located in downtown Manhattan. You stepped inside, attempting to fight off your pestering nerves so you could somewhat enjoy the evening.
You glanced around, spotting a few people you were already familiar with. You had shared classes with a few of them, and when you made your presence known, you were greeted graciously, immediately being pulled into the conversations the women were in the midst of having.
About half an hour in, you began feeling more comfortable, finding yourself fitting in seamlessly with the other attendees. You had even exchanged numbers with a few other people who were in your program. Having connections for future projects would work to your benefit. Plus, gaining more friends wouldn’t hurt. There was no such thing as having too many intelligent women in your life.
Then you heard your name being called out. You turned to face Kayla as she neared your direction. She greeted the other women as well before focusing all of her attention on you.
“I’m so glad you’re here! I was afraid you wouldn’t make it.” She said, blue gaze filling with excitement. “I have so much to catch you up on, but I think I need a drink first.”
You agreed, having the feeling that you were also going to need one as well to get through whatever she was going to tell you.
You both took a seat at the bar, putting in your drink orders with the bartender. A tequila margarita for her and a vodka cran for you. Blame Natasha for that choice.
Kayla took a few sips of her drink before turning to you with an exasperated look. “I’ve had such a long week. You have no idea how exhausting it’s been. The most pressing issue being my brother’s MIA status.”
You took a larger gulp of your drink than you intended to as she continued.
“Apparently, my parents can’t get in touch with Jacob. They’ve tried to call his phone several times, but every call just keeps being sent straight to voicemail.” She groused.
“Oh,” Your brows pinched in feigned concern as you tried not to show your heightened apprehension. “That’s… not good.”
“Yeah, I know. He and my dad are supposed to go on a business trip together in like a week, so they thought he’d be back by now.” She shook her head while observing the other guests nearby.
“I’m used to him being irresponsible but this is a new low for him. He usually never ignores my parents. Not for this long.”
Biting your lip, you looked away. “Yeah, that um… that doesn’t seem fun. I’m sorry you're dealing with that.”
“So am I,” She responded. “But honestly it’s whatevs. You know my brother. He’ll be back sniffing around here soon when he runs out of money or something.”
She shrugged before turning to you with a narrowed gaze. “By the way, I’m literally so upset with you. I can’t believe you’ve been keeping secrets from me.”
Your eyes widened slightly in panic. “Huh?” you let out cautiously. “W-what secrets?”
“You know what I mean.” She raised a perfect brow.
Your nerves started to ease when you saw the subtle signs of a smirk appear on her lips.
“Why didn’t you tell me that the prisoner was that freaking hot?!” She exclaimed, slapping a hand on your shoulder.
“Prisoner?” Your brows furrowed. “You mean Loki?”
“Yes!” Her expression transformed into one of awe.
“I mean he’s tall and extremely attractive. That wavy dark hair? Those piercing green eyes? That velvety smooth voice? It’s the perfect combination.”
You simply stared at her, not knowing what to say to that.
“If I had known that was who you were working with all this time, I would’ve begged Tony to let me work with him too.” She winked. “You go, girl!”
“Oh, um, that’s not…” you trailed off. “Loki and I are just friends.”
“Hmm,” she gave you a sly look. “Well, if nothing is going on between you two, then that means he’s up for grabs, right?”
Your brows rose. “I-I guess so, but I don’t think he’s-”
“Enough said. That’s all I need to know.” She smiled flirtatiously before finishing her drink. She hopped off of the bar stool before fixing her dress. “I’m gonna go say hi to the other girls. See ya later.”
With a wink and blowing of a kiss, she left to make her rounds.
You were still sitting at the bar staring into space, trying to wrap your head around what just happened.
Did you just accidentally give Kayla permission to pursue Loki?
It certainly wasn’t your intention, but it happened nonetheless without you explicitly saying those words.
Kayla and Loki could not be around each other for obvious reasons, but she didn’t know that. Especially after the visceral way he reacted to her presence at Tony and Pepper’s anniversary party. You had no idea how you were gonna fix this, but you needed to do so fast. Maybe you could speak to her about him again to try to ward her off.
“Damn it,” You muttered with a sigh, looking down at your now watered-down drink.
“You can say that again. She was certainly a talker.”
An unfamiliar voice spoke from beside you. You turned to meet a girl with friendly brown eyes and an amused smile sitting on the seat to the left of you.
She held her hand out to you and you took it.
“I’m Lana. Lana James.” She introduced herself before asking you for your name. You told her and she nodded.
“Yes, I think I saw you in my biochem class last semester. There’s like a hundred students in that room, but I think you sat two rows below me.”
“You look pretty familiar too. Nice to finally meet you face to face.” You smiled.
That’s all it took for you both to dive straight into a long conversation ranging from school-related topics to personal hobbies. Lana James was also in her second year at NYU, majoring in environmental biology. She had a friendly visage; wild curly brown hair and cocoa skin. Her demeanor was chill, and there was a cool and collected aura about her.
You surprisingly felt at ease around her in a very short amount of time, and by the time you glanced at your watch, the mixer was almost over. You both had sat at the bar chatting for what seemed like hours.
After exchanging phone numbers, you gave her a sheepish smile.
“Well, I should probably start making my way back home since it’s getting pretty late. But it was nice chatting with you.”
“Oh yeah, girl. This was fun! We’ll have to get together again before classes start up.” She smiled with a twinkle in her eye. “Now go home to your man before your friend tries to steal him away from you.”
You almost choked on your own saliva as you gave her a double take. “What?”
She pursed her lips. “I may or may not have been eavesdropping on your previous conversation with the blonde Barbie doll over there, but from what I gathered based on your stricken expression, she’s trying to swoop in on someone that’s already yours. I’m assuming you’re just too afraid to tell her to back off.”
Your mouth went agape as you tried to deny her statements. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s… sort of complicated. I wish I could explain but I just can’t.”
“Isn’t it always?” She smirked lightly. “Don’t mind me, I’m just being a tease. I’ll text you soon so we can figure out our next meet.”
You nodded your head and parted with a goodbye, still a bit taken aback by her observation.
After saying goodbye to Kayla and a couple of other people you knew, you left the restaurant.
Nothing was perfect, but things were starting to feel pretty good.
You let out a quiet oof as Steve pinned you to the ground for the third time in a row that morning. You didn’t miss his frustrated sigh as he lifted himself off of you, lending a hand to help you up.
You took it graciously, groaning as you rose from the mat.
“Okay…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re usually able to get through a few rounds before I’m able to restrain you so quickly. What’s going on?”
You were tired. That’s what was going on.
And you were feeling even weaker than before. But Steve couldn’t know that.
You stalled a bit, grabbing your water bottle and taking a sip before shrugging lightly.
“Think I just didn’t get enough sleep but I should be better in a couple of days. Then I’ll be the one pinning you to the ground again.” You joked halfheartedly.
Steve was not amused, blue gaze scrutinizing you in concern. “Are you sure? I wasn’t going to bring it up, but you’ve been off your game lately. I’ve been noticing it more in the past week.”
“I’m fine, Steve,” you responded a bit sharper than you planned to.
His hands rose in the air defensively. “I’m not trying to pry, just asking as a friend.” He expressed. “Just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Feeling a bout of guilt and shame, you looked down at the floor and a quick apology left your lips.
“I know, but like I said, I've just been a bit tired lately, that’s all. School’s about to start, and work has been keeping me pretty busy. All good things but they can be sort of exhausting at times.”
He smiled wryly, looking down at the floor before meeting your gaze again. “I get it. Just like to check on my little Angel from time to time.”
You flashed him a timid smile before looking away.
“I-um, I do owe you an apology for the way I was acting during game night,” Steve confessed, causing you to turn back to him.
He shuffled closer with a sigh. “What I did wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have acted that way or said those things. It wasn’t the right time or place. I know that now.” He frowned, looking as if he was still disturbed by something.
“But… when I saw how he was with you, just sitting next to you, laughing and smiling like everything was fine… how the two of you were interacting with each other, I didn’t really like it.”
“What exactly didn’t you like about it?” You asked, trying to understand where Steve was coming from.
His lips thinned. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t want you to become one of his victims.”
“Loki would never hurt me.” You declared in complete confidence. In fact, he had done the complete opposite. Saving you from Jacob’s grasp was no small feat.
But that was your experience with Loki, not Steve’s.
You had to accept that he was having a harder time getting over his issues with Loki than the others were. You were sure that Nat, Bucky, and some others still didn’t completely trust him, but they were still doing their best to move on.
“I’m not trying to negate your feelings about him, Steve. I have no right to do that. I didn’t know how he was in 2012. I didn’t experience the battle of New York firsthand like all of you did. But what I can say is from the time I have known him, he is a completely different person than he was back then. He’s changed and is still changing every day for the better. He wants to be better. But it really makes it harder for him to do so when you antagonize him like that.”
Steve’s gaze met the ground, nodding solemnly.
“All I really ask is for you to be cordial with him, or at least not purposely provoke him like you did that night. He’s trying his best, but he is no saint. And neither are you, so I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt as well.”
He was silent for a moment, seeming to contemplate your words before he looked up at you again, nodding firmly.
“You’re right.” He conceded. “I need to move on. Things have changed and I need to accept that. I will be better about… things moving forward.”
You let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Steve. I would appreciate that.”
For the first time in a while, Steve was finally seeing things your way. You knew he could be stubborn, but he was still your friend. If you wouldn’t give up on Loki, you couldn’t give up on Steve either.
He pressed his lips together in a small smile, placing a hand on your back. “Of course, Angel.”
The beeping of his watch drew his attention away, and he sighed. He slowly moved to start collecting his gear.
“Looks like I’ve been summoned for an impromptu mission. I have to go find Bucky and Sam.”
“It’s okay, duty calls. Have fun!” You waved him off as he exited the training room.
You took a deep breath, glad to finally have some time alone to yourself. All that flipping around on the mat had made you a bit dizzy.
You took a seat on the bench, drinking your water with your eyes closed.
A small noise nearby made you open your eyes. You almost jumped out of your skin at the figure that stood only a few feet away from you.
“Wanda.” You laughed nervously. “You almost scared me half to death. I didn’t hear you come in.”
She stood still with her arms crossed. Just staring at you with an off-putting yet indiscernible expression.
“I was already here.” She eventually answered. “In the women’s locker room.”
“Well, that explains it. Are you training this morning too? I can get out of your hair.”
She didn’t respond to that, only continuing to observe you intensely. You felt the hairs at the back of your neck prickling.
“Is there something wrong?” you asked nervously.
Slowly, she began taking steps toward you before stopping barely a foot away. You leaned back as she leaned forward, frowning as she studied your face. You were getting ready to ask her what she was doing before you heard her utter those dreadful words.
“You’re sick.”
Your face dropped and your heart rate instantly picked up. You opened and closed your mouth, trying to find something to say to that.
“Sick?” you chuckled awkwardly, shaking your head as if you didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Very sick. You have an illness.” She affirmed.
“I-I don’t know-”
You gasped when she firmly pressed a hand to your forehead.
You were stunned. So completely taken aback that you froze in place.
When she closed her eyes, you started to panic, not knowing what was happening.
You didn’t understand what she was doing until it finally clicked.
Wanda was using her powers. On you.
You instantly swatted her hand away, but it was too late. By the completely stricken look on her face, you knew she had seen enough. She saw too much. She knew.
“Wanda! Why would you do that?” You said angrily. She had never used her powers on you without your explicit permission.
“You had no right!”
She backed away, face contorting into something you had never seen her aim at you before. Anger. Disappointment.
“Ever since you came from the hospital after your attack, I knew something was wrong. Something was off about you.” She began, fist clenching at her sides. “This whole time I have been trying to figure out what it was. It wasn't very noticeable, but I could sense it growing inside of you. I could see it in your physical appearance. I can feel it when I touch you, and I can catch the scent of the drugs you’ve been taking.”
“Wanda…”
“When were you going to say something?” She cried. “When were you going to tell us that you were diagnosed with Leukemia?”
Your eyes squeezed shut at hearing that dreadful word come out of her mouth. However necessary it was, you disliked discussing this with Dr. Cho, and you certainly hated talking about this with Wanda.
“I don’t really wanna talk about this right now,” you responded with a shake of your head.
She let out an incredulous scoff, crossing her arms. “You were never going to tell us, were you?”
You avoided her fiery gaze.
“After everything you’ve been through, especially with Jacob, you still believe you need to keep secrets from us? Especially with something so life threatening like this?”
“I’m fine, Wanda. Don’t you see?” You snapped, throwing your hands up in the air. “It would make absolutely zero sense to tell anyone about my personal health, especially if I’m handling it. It would do nothing but upset everyone and make them treat me like a child again. I’m not some damsel in distress and I’m not a doll that needs to be taken care of and looked after all the time.
“I have it all under control. I’m taking my prescribed meds and going to my checkups with Dr. Cho. I’m getting my blood taken and getting scanned in these stuffy machines left and right. The last thing I need is for everyone to be concerned about me. They’ll only freak out, just like you just did.”
“Well imagine how they’ll feel if something happened to you and they never knew about it. To learn that they had no clue you were dealing with such a severe illness. You have cancer for christ’s sake!”
You immediately shushed her, not liking how her voice was carrying throughout the room.
She glared at you, shaking her head at you disappointingly.
“You can’t keep this a secret for much longer or-.”
“How do you feel now that you know what’s wrong with me? Huh?” You interjected heatedly, voice rising in agitation and embarrassment.
She scowled silently.
“Do you feel better knowing the truth? Especially knowing that you can do absolutely nothing about it?”
“You don’t know that. I can do some research… experiment with my magic-.”
You stood up from the bench, facing off with her. “There is no cure for cancer, Wanda, and you know that. This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell any of you. I don’t need any false hope.”
She quieted for a moment, face strained as she tried to come up with a suitable response.
“You still need people.” She concluded. “I don’t care if we aren’t able to help you, at least we can try to be there for you. We want to support you. How can we do that if you don’t even give us a chance?”
You shook your head, eyes watering. “I have the support I need. Everyone is already supporting me whether they know about this or not. I don’t know how this will go, and I don’t know how much time I have. It may be years, it may not be. That’s how these things go.” You shrugged sadly. “But what I want is to have a normal life. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life having people worry about me. This.. this disease is not me.”
She crossed her arms, looking away sadly.
“I need you to promise me something…” You quietly requested. “I need you to promise not to tell anyone else, okay?”
The room was filled with tension as she stared at you in silence. After a while, she let out a frustrated sigh.
Her hazel green eyes pierced right into you. “What about Loki? Does he know?”
You don’t know why, but that specific question threw you off. You didn’t respond, but she knew the answer by the pained look that spread across your face.
Her face slowly dropped, and she looked panicked. Frightened even.
The breath seemed to leave her lungs as she stumbled back, staring at you as if you did something majorly wrong.
“You haven’t told him…” She muttered. “I stupidly assumed that he would be the first one you told. The only other person who knew.”
“I can’t… I can’t do that to him. I can’t tell him about this.” You shook your head sadly. “At least right now. It’ll only distract him from the work we’ve been doing. He needs to focus.”
Suddenly, her face sobered up. “You have to tell him.”
“Wanda, I can’t-”
You gasped as she stalked closer to you and took hold of your shoulders, holding you tight.
“I know creatures like Loki,” She said. “He is not the type of person you keep secrets from. Especially not one of this nature. He may not like it, but the longer you keep this from him, he is not going to react well.”
“Wanda, let go of me.” You whispered.
“No!” she shook you slightly. “You need to listen to me. I’m not only telling you this because I care about you but also for everyone else’s well-being. You need to tell him.”
“I can’t.” You cried, tears falling down your face. “Not now. It’s not the right time.”
“There is no right time.” she chastised. “You have to tell him before it progresses. Please-”
Suddenly, you were released from her strong grip. You witnessed Wanda being forcefully, almost violently pushed away from you.
Panic rose in your chest as you viewed the scene before you.
Loki now stood between you and Wanda. His green eyes were practically glowing, blazing with an intense fury. His defensive stance radiated barely restrained hostility as he sharply pointed a finger in her face.
“What is your problem, witch?” He spat harshly.
To Wanda’s credit, she stood tall, glaring at him before her eyes slid back over to you.
You shook your head slightly, eyes pleading with her not to say anything.
She ignored Loki’s question, eyes focused on you as she said her parting words.
“You’re going to regret this decision. I don’t have to see the future to know that chaos will ensue, and when it does…” She whispered, gaze slowly returning to Loki again. “God help us.”
You swallowed, watching as she departed the room. Loki stood on guard between you both until she was out of sight.
He turned to you, taking hold of your arms in a much gentler manner.
“Did she hurt you?” He asked, a highly concerned expression on his face.
You shook your head. “No… no she didn’t. She wouldn’t…”
“I assumed so as well before I witnessed her handling you with such carelessness.” He growled. “Is the witch not your friend?”
“Of course she is.” You answered, tears welling up in your eyes. “Or at least I think she still is… she was.”
“What was she trying to accomplish in treating you that way?”
You looked at him, taking in the worry and care that was held in his green eyes.
You couldn’t tell him. Not now. You shook your head, giving him a watery smile. “Nothing really important.”
Loki frowned at your answer, seeming to be deep in thought.
You were sure he heard Wanda’s last words before she left. Luckily for you, it seemed as if that’s all he witnessed.
By the skeptical look on his face, you knew he didn’t fully believe you. Thankfully he didn’t push this time, only nodding and rubbing your arm softly.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He gently stated.
“I hope so.”
Loki searched your gaze, watching the tearful look on your face before pulling you into his arms and engulfing you in a hug.
Tony had recently hired a live-in chef for the team, one whose services you certainly didn’t hesitate to take advantage of.
Loki on the other hand did not seem to share in your enthusiasm as he stared blankly at the breakfast spread before him.
You had all but dragged him from his room to sit out in the common area for breakfast. He made sure to vocalize his complaints and grumbled about as normal, but he still did as you requested.
As you ate through your sleepy haze, you barely noticed Loki’s attention had shifted onto you.
You paused in your eating, sending him a cautious look. “What? Is there something on my face?”
He shook his head negative but continued to eye you strangely.
“I…” He hesitated, brows pinching together slightly as he observed you. “Are you well?”
You sat your fork down with a clink and cleared your throat before nodding. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”
Leaning forward on the table, his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. “Something seems… different.”
You frowned, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah, I know. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately for some reason. I’m sure I look kind of bad.”
“That isn’t it. I am used to your constant appearance of fatigue. The lines under your eyes are ever-growing.” He smirked at the look of disbelief growing on your face.
Your mouth dropped. “That is so mean!”
“Only the truth. However, there is something unusual. I simply cannot put a finger on it.” He hummed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You uttered. “But what I do know is that the team has been pretty satisfied with how our outings have been going so far.”
He stared at you for a moment before raising a skeptical brow. “Truly?”
You grinned, relieved he didn’t notice your swift subject change.
“Yes! They have been approving more and more outings for us which is very exciting.”
“Yes, very exciting indeed.” He muttered dryly.
“That’s the spirit! I’ve already started planning our next outing.”
“Which is?”
“We’ll be visiting the Men’s Covenant House of New York.” You grinned before taking another bite of your food.
His face screwed up in distaste. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a homeless shelter a few blocks away. Tony donates to them pretty regularly. I thought it’d be good for you to see what non-rich people or princes' lives look like.” You shrugged. “Plus, it’s always good to give back when you can. I know you don’t necessarily cook or anything like that, but maybe you can provide some sort of encouragement or conversation for them.”
The bewildered expression on his face was almost kodak worthy. He blinked rapidly before leaning forward slightly.
“Firstly, your planet does not house all of its inhabitants?” His pitch rose to a comical level. “And second, what could I possibly say to these pitiful humans? We are clearly not the same. Complete opposites if I must say.”
“Sadly, we do have a large homeless population here in the U.S. We’d rather spend money on destructive wars than help people in need.” You sighed. “And you do have something to share. You have your charm, your charisma, and your confidence. A lot of these people have been through so much and have lost their spark.” You smiled, placing a hand on his. This quickly grabbed his attention.
“If anyone can help them get it back, it’s you. Let’s put that silver tongue to good use for once.” You grinned.
He stared at you in contemplation for a moment before finally giving in with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
“If I must.” He obliged, sighing heavily.
You placed your fork down on your plate to do a little happy dance in your seat. You didn’t miss the subtle twitch of his lips as he watched on, attempting to hide his amusement with a steady look of annoyance.
Sam walked into the room, quickly greeting you with a quick fist bump. “Hey, missy,”
“Hey, Sam.”
To your shock, he didn’t hesitate to acknowledge Loki as well. “What’s up, Loki.” He nodded politely.
“Samuel,” Loki remarked tensely, causing Sam to grimace.
“Please, not the government name, man. Just Sam. Or Wilson. Really, anything but that.” Sam pleaded while filling his plate with food before pausing.
“Wait, not anything… whatever. You know what I mean.” He rasped, shaking his head.
Loki only smirked.
That little interaction made a smile grow on your face. You doubted those two would ever become the best of friends, but it was nice to know that there was a lot less tension in the air.
Things were seeming to move forward in a positive direction.
******
You fidgeted nervously as you sat upright on the examination table, the bright shine of the fluorescence above you making you feel a bit queasy.
You stared down at your hands, noticing how short your nails were getting. Nail biting was never your go to coping mechanism before, but lately, you’ve found yourself subconsciously doing it more and more.
A light knock sounded on the wood-colored door before it opened. Dr. Cho walked in. She greeted you with your name and a brief smile.
Glancing down at the clipboard in her hand, a look of stoicism was quickly shrouded upon her elegant features.
“So we ran a few more tests with the fresh blood samples you provided us earlier and just received the results.”
You rubbed your sweaty palms against your pants, swallowing nervously. “And?”
She paused a beat before meeting your gaze. “I think it’s best if we upped your meds.”
You blinked. “Oh.”
“It shouldn’t be permanent. Just for now. We’ll continue to monitor your levels and will reduce your intake when they go back to a normal and safe looking position.”
You looked down at the floor with a hesitant nod. “Alright. I’m assuming this means that things aren’t improving like we wanted them to.” You felt defeated. You’ve been doing everything she instructed you to do, but you guess that didn’t matter much.
“I’m sad to say so. Your vitamin deficiency has been spiking, and your red and white blood cells count is decreasing. Luckily it’s happening at a slow rate, which is good. It was almost undetectable, but since we’ve been keeping an extremely close eye on you, it sparked a bit of alarm for my team.” She sighed. “Have you started noticing any further symptoms?”
Unfortunately, you had. “Yes, a few more, but I mostly feel tired and worn out more than usual. A few coughing fits here and there but I think I have that under control.”
She nodded at that. “The best thing for you to do is take the new meds I’ll be prescribing you. Please be careful that you take them during their scheduled time, every time. Missing any one of these doses could make these symptoms increase.”
“I understand. Thanks, Dr. Cho.”
You hopped off of the table and began gathering your things while she lingered by the desk, still watching you with a tinge of concern mixed within her gaze.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t normally like to get so up close and personal with my patients, but like I said before you are quite special. I suppose I wanted to know if you have anyone um, waiting for you in the lobby?”
Your mouth thinned and you shook your head silently.
Her disappointed look told you that was not what she wanted to hear. This was the fifth visit you’ve had with her in the span of two months, and you came alone each and every time. And each time she’d take note of the guarded look on your face that expressed your discomfort with talking about the others in regards to your health. Thankfully she hasn’t pushed you any further on it, remembering your previous conversation about doctor-patient confidentiality and discreteness when she first broke the unfortunate news to you.
“Thanks, again.” You said to her before exiting the room.
“Of course. Take care of yourself.” You heard her say before the door closed behind you.
*******
After receiving such grim news, you really needed a mood booster.
Luckily for you, it was game night at the tower, or “family game time” as Tony liked to call it.
You found yourself on the other side of Loki’s door, asking him- no begging for him to attend.
“Come on, it’ll be so much fun! I promise.” You sang while leaning against the other side of the apartment door. He hadn’t even had the decency to let you in but blamed yourself for that y since you texted him about your intentions beforehand.
“I said no.” His semi-muffled voice repeated from the other side of the door. “I am fairly confident you understand what that word means. If not, I am happy to let this be an example for you.”
“I’ll be right by your side the whole time.” You insisted.
“I’d feel more at home in a room full of sharks than I would if I had to spend even one second in their presence. Especially if he will be in attendance.”
You raised a brow at his dramatics, knowing exactly who he was talking about. Yet, you didn’t give up on your task.
“I know, but sharks may try to eat you. This’ll be different. It’ll just be a group of friends playing a few fun games together, not the Avengers.”
He went quiet on the other side for a moment, and you thought you had him. The door flew open and you were met with his critical stare.
“Are those not the same people?” He questioned.
You tilted your head. “Well, yeah but-”
“Then no.”
You felt a strong gust of air rush past you as the door closed right in front of your face.
Your smile dropped into an unamused frown. It was time to wave your white flag and admit defeat. At least you tried.
“Fine.” You grumbled to yourself. “I’d really like it if you would come by. You wouldn’t even have to stay the whole time unless you wanted to. But I’ll leave you be tonight. Maybe next time.”
You accepted your defeat and moved on, only to be pleasantly surprised when Loki shuffled into the game room an hour later with a strong look of disinterest on his face.
He looked around the room, seeming to be searching for someone until his gaze met yours. You perked up and waved him over, and with what seemed to be a great amount of reluctance, he made his way over.
You were in the middle of playing a game of spades with Sam, Bucky, and Natasha who had yet to notice his presence until Loki stiffly sat in the empty seat next to you.
The group faltered in their movements only for a second when they registered who exactly it was who joined them, but to their credit, they continued on with the game. Sam even provided Loki with a friendly nod.
Loki didn’t nod back, but you did see him relax a little. The others were located in different sections of the room, deep into their own games. You noted that everyone was in attendance save for Tony and Steve, which was probably for the best.
You noticed them glancing your way every now and again, Thor even sending Loki a friendly wave which in turn made you smile and Loki roll his eyes.
You leaned his way, nudging him lightly in the ribs. “See, not so scary after all.” You whispered. “Much better than sitting in a room with sharks.”
“We’ll see about that.” He retorted lowly.
As the night went on, you found that the team was being surprisingly cordial with Loki. Your mood picked up even more because of that. You knew that this wasn’t easy for anyone, but the fact that they were all trying was a great improvement.
You moved around the room to join in on the different games the others were playing. Loki was right by your side the whole time. If you moved, he moved. It seemed to be an unspoken rule, and you were just fine with that.
Regardless of his unfamiliarity and slight discomfort with the situation, his face remained neutral, which was much better than the permanent scowl he tended to put on around others.
There were times where a look of mild uncertainty would cross his face if anyone spoke directly to him. He would look to you for directions on what to do and you’d give him a subtle nod in return. He didn’t speak or interact with the others much, but he didn’t straight up ignore them if spoken to. So much progress was being made, and you were feeling on cloud nine. Not once had your mind wandered to your earlier visit with Dr. Cho.
There was a point in the night where Loki became more vocal. Sometimes he would tease you about how bad you were doing at a game, and other times it would be him throwing semi-insulting remarks at Thor from across the table.
Having made it to the last game of the night without a fight, you were just about to call the night a success. Then Steve sauntered in.
He walked over to the large table where everyone sat, taking a seat next to Natasha before apologizing for his lateness.
“Thought you were skipping out on me, punk,” Bucky remarked to him.
“No, I just got caught up in a project. Tony’s still knees deep into it but I’ve had enough for the night.” Steve explained, adjusting in his seat.
“Oh yeah? I just assumed you didn’t feel like getting your ass handed to you in bingo yet again.” Bucky smirked.
You snorted in amusement, covering your mouth. Of course, they’d be competitive at the world’s most elderly game.
Your laugh caught Steve’s attention, and he glanced your way, only to freeze when his eyes caught onto someone else. The mirthful look in his eyes disappeared immediately.
He had finally noticed the outsider in the room.
You felt Loki tense up next to you, and without thinking much about it, you carefully slid your hand atop his from underneath the table. A small smile formed on your lips when you felt him physically relax ever so slowly.
Steve on the other hand still looked taken aback, his unwavering gaze directed at Loki.
When his eyes connected with yours, you sent him a reassuring smile, yet he barely returned it, lips only twitching before sliding his gaze back to Loki.
By the way the conversation died down, it was obvious everyone else had noticed the tension in the room but were trying to not make it even more noticeable.
Sam leaned over to clap Steve on the back, breaking him out of his trance.
“Glad you could join us, man.” He chimed. “We’re just getting started.”
“Yeah.” Steve nodded distractedly. “Me too.”
Then the game began. Time passed and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Steve was unusually quiet but had yet to say anything to Loki which you were grateful for.
However, his eyes frequented your side of the table throughout the game more often than not. You paid it no mind, especially when it didn’t seem to phase Loki at all.
“How pitiful,” Loki remarked as you picked up a losing card. “Getting fired from one’s employment is no small feat. I’m afraid of what might happen to you next.” He smirked, giving you a suggestive look. “Jail, perhaps?”
You scowled at him and playfully pushed his shoulder. “Keep talking and I’ll flip your family’s car over.”
“Physical abuse and an intent to murder my tiny people? Well done, I am so proud of you! But unfortunately, imprisonment might be sooner than you think if you continue at this rate.” He grinned teasingly.
You shot him a look, shaking your head before turning back towards the board game. Your smile faltered when you saw Steve’s intense stare focused directly on you. You could practically feel his gaze burning into you as he studied you and Loki, eyes flitting between the both of you.
You gave him a tight-lipped smile before averting your eyes. You began to feel a slight sense of discomfort at his fierce observation. You understood that Steve was not a fan of Loki, but hoped he would work on moving past it just as everyone else. Even Loki himself was behaving much better than expected tonight.
Sadly, your hopes fell through the cracks when Steve loudly cleared his throat. You inwardly flinched when he said your name and your gaze hesitantly met his.
He sat back in his seat with his arms crossed, a curious (and very scrutinizing) look covering his face.
“I have to say, I’m a bit surprised you brought him along with you tonight.” He professed, nodding his head over at Loki. “Thought you’d keep him away from the rest of us as much as possible, considering the history he has with everyone at this table.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
That caught you completely off guard. You sent Steve a confused look before looking around the table.
The playful and competitive chatter between everyone completely stopped. No one said a word, but everyone looked pretty uncomfortable at Steve’s obvious but unnecessary observation.
But not Loki. He kept his attention on the board game in front of him with an intense focus. As if he hadn’t heard Steve utter a word.
“Um, y-yeah” you finally voiced. “I thought it would be good for everyone to be around each other. It is game night, after all. Everyone on the floor should be included. I don’t think anyone has a problem with that. Do you?”
You looked around in question and heads shook.
“Nope. All is good.” Sam remarked before turning back to the game. “Now, where were we? I was just about to choose the righteous path of getting my college degree-”
“Really?” Steve interrupted Sam’s clever attempt to move on. He looked around at everyone with a high brow, gaze narrowing. “Is that truly the case?
Your pulse increased slightly when you noticed Loki direct his gaze towards Steve from the corner of your eye. That was not a good sign at all.
“It appears as if you are the only one to have an issue with my presence, considering you are the only one constantly yapping about it.” He sneered.
Steve's gaze flitted back over to Loki, and a slow smile spread across his face.
Your hand quickly found his underneath the table yet again. But, this time he didn’t relax. He was already on the defense, body rigid and expression firm as he met Steve’s gaze with fierce challenge.
Seemingly triumphant in his goal of finally getting Loki to tick, Steve let out a wry chuckle, tilting his head to the side mockingly.
“You see, I find it really hard to believe that no one has a problem with you being here, sitting with the rest of us like we’re all just the best of friends.”
“Steve-” you tried to interject but he went on.
“So what that the team as a whole decided to move past your most recent events? You got lucky this time around, but what about the personal attacks you made on us? Do you not remember throwing Stark straight through a window he could’ve possibly dropped 300 feet to his death? Or when you controlled Clint’s mind with that stupid scepter to turn him against us?”
Clint shuffled uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of that.
“I can’t even remember how many times you’ve tried to kill your own brother. You tried it with Bruce, and we all know how that went.” Steve snorted before pointing over at Natasha.
“And when you said those disgusting things to Nat?”
“Steve, not now,” Natasha warned, glaring at him from underneath her lashes.
“What was that you called her? A mewling quim? How charming of you.”
Your eyes widened in shock.
“Yet, here she is, forced to sit around a table with you, playing games like you never said those words to her.
“No one can force me to do anything I don’t want to do,” Nat stated, directing her glare at Steve. “And thank you for that, Steve,” she spat. “I'm sure everyone loves hearing their past mistakes replayed in front of an audience.”
Steve frowned at her. “Mistakes? No, everything he did was intentional.”
“If I recall, he was under the influence of Thanos, cap,” Sam muttered, yet Steve wasn't having it, waving his hand in a gesture of refusal.
“That was his choice. All of it was. And now here he is sitting here like we’re like he didn't try to destroy our lives time and time again.”
You sat forward, about to speak in Loki's defense, but Loki himself beat you to it.
“You’re right.” he concurred, causing everyone, including Steve, to turn their attention to him.
“Your claims are true. I cannot deny any of those incidents, and I am sorry to anyone I have harmed in my previous path to power.” He assured carefully. You were surprised to find a note of honesty in his tone.
“I do not plan on repeating my past mistakes. Nevertheless, things have to move forward, yet you are the only one who cannot seem to get over it. The one person who I've barely laid a finger on.”
You swallowed nervously trying to think of the best way to end this conversation before it spiraled out of control even more.
“You, Captain America,” Loki mocked, “are an utter joke. Your whole existence stems from a foolish experiment, and since we seem to be in the mood of reminding each other of our respective pasts, do you recall being a five foot nothing fragile stick of a man that no one respected?”
Steve’s expression darkened considerably and Loki grinned.
“Hey,” Bucky’s warning tone met your ears. “I think that’s enough.”
Loki didn’t bother to spare him a glance, continuing his verbal assault on Steve.
“We are all aware that no one wants me here. I am used to not being wanted, but let me remind you that your own country did not want you. The country you still fight for today. You weren’t even good enough to fight for them until after they injected you with that pathetic serum.” He spat tauntingly. “With that being said, I would suggest you do as the others have done and get over yourself. I am disinterested in this petty grudge you continue to hold against me.”
You could tell that hit home at the sight of Steve's chest rising and falling rapidly. His jaw was clenched and his brows were lowered.
A tense and uncomfortable silence filled the air between them as they glared daggers into one another.
You sat rigid in your seat, not really knowing what to do or say to make things better. It was probably too late at this point.
Bruce was the first to speak up. “Alright, that’s enough monopoly for the night, folks.”
“We were playing the game of Life,” Sam weakly corrected him.
“Same difference,” Bruce replied before getting up out of his seat with a quiet groan.
Most everyone else followed, gathering their things and trailing out of the room. You stood up from your chair and placed a hand on Loki's shoulder.
“Come on, let’s go,” you whispered, giving him an encouraging squeeze.
Thankfully, he listened to you, finally tearing his fiery gaze away from Steve and rising gracefully from his chair.
You walked Loki out, turning back to glance at Steve once more. He sat at the table alone, staring off into the distance with a dejected expression.
when you’re reading fanfiction and you get so involved in the story you start imagining different scenarios in that same universe and then it’s fanfiction fanfiction
♥ Summary: there's a sorcerer that he had heard about but had never met himself. When the said hero comes to the Stark tower after completing a mission, Loki gets to talk to a Deaf person for the first time.
♥ Relationships: Loki x gender neutral Reader (developing romance)
♥ Word count: 1400
♥ Warnings: Reader is stone deaf
You carry a cake down the hall. It takes up both of your hands. You're rushing yourself. Stark always made fun of you whenever you were late. Too busy with other boys to care about me? He always teased.
Getting off the elevator was the worst part. You never knew what to expect. Would Cap be there to greet you? Would Thor try to hug you? Is JARVIS still trying to speak to you?
You can tell by the way Tony popped his head out from across the hall that JARVIS did end up saying something.
"Give it to me." He signs, taking the cake from your hands. It's not any special occasion nor birthday. They all just like eating the cakes you bring home from your missions. It's a special reward for them being so welcoming towards you.
Meanwhile, Loki sits alone on a couch, placing his thumbs under his chin and his pointer fingers against his lips. He would just have to bear with everyone for a few more days until he and Thor could make their way back to Asgard. All these reunion activities of sorts seem foolish to him. And why even include him in the first place?
It wasn't until Thor brought someone over, he realized why. The few words Thor had in his vocabulary formed the perfect introduction.
"Here is my brother," Thor signs to you, "he is lonely."
"Lonely?" You ask.
Said brother's eyes flicker between the two of you. Ideas run through his head. You are probably from a different planet, where people communicate with their hands. Or maybe some different misgardian land.
Thor turns to him, telling him your name. Then he turns to you and does the same.
"Nice to meet you," you sign, extending your hand. Loki stands to shake it.
"Splendid!" Thor exclaims, patting his brother on the back. "I'm sure you two will get along." He leaves without telling you what he said out loud. So you purse your lips into a thin line, bring out your phone, and begin to type something. You even turn your body a little to signal to the black-haired god that you were not going to pay attention to whatever he would try to say to you.
He squints his pale eyes at you before they flicker down a phone, one in your hand, to which you offer him to look. In the notes app reads: did he tell you about me?
With his answer being no, you spent a few minutes typing an introduction for yourself. You added your name, and what being Deaf meant to you. He read it slowly.
He took in every word.
You added a sentence about you being a sorcerer, which did not make sense to him. His eyes meet yours before he types his short response.
"Can't you fix it yourself?"
Two years ago, when you first introduced yourself to Stark, he had said the same thing. Soon Cap had to swoop in and grab you from behind, stopping you from trying to swing at the billionaire. Periodically he has to do it again... and again... for the same reason. Hawkeye, who is Deaf himself, would save the day and explain to hearing people how rude that is to ask that.
The Avengers getting used to your aggressive response took another year, with the growing fear of you meeting new people. By the time you had become a close member of the team, they knew to keep an eye out. This time, however, your immediate response is to hold your breath.
You look up to see Cap eyeing you down. All you do is shake your head, getting up from your seat to go talk to him. You don't even give Loki another word.
"Did he say what I think he said?" He asks.
"Absolutely."
A few minutes later, you had already busied yourself talking to someone else other than the god of trickery.
To his thoughts, you had already tried and failed to cure yourself, therefore being sensitive about the topic.
He indulged in a variety of different ideas. Everyone noticed him conspiring on his position on the couch, determination palpable, and seemingly stiff in his spot.
Thor equipped his brother with a cold glass of water. He had no intention of asking what the conversation between you two could have brought up. And he too was painfully new, therefore not understanding what might have occurred to cause you to get up and walk away. When Hawkeye finally got tired of the invisible tension, he walks over, you make a scene from a distance in turning your back to both of them.
"You didn't fight him," Cap states, not exactly posing himself like it was a question. You assume it was anyways.
You gesture to the crowd behind you. "Not worth the energy. Plus, do you think I don't know who that is?"
Loki only frowned at what was being explained to him. Hawkeye estimated that it would take him until you would literally try to fight him until he would get the idea through his head.
The idea that there doesn't need to be a cure for your deafness.
There's a bit of falseness to this estimation. In reality, it only took Loki that night to realize that the statement was true. He watched you communicate with everyone in that hand language. You were well and capable of being one of the team, and more specifically, well and capable to be a hero. Even if you were the one that stood out, once again, he felt like the outsider.
What you both didn't expect from that day forward was how well the two of you would end up getting along. Loki starting to pick up some signs from his brother, alongside the more educated teacher - Hawkeye. Nobody had thought to tell you that they were helping him learn the language. He secretly went out and around to learn different aspects of the culture from all that he could.
Even when he returned to Asgard, he would practice what little he knew, waiting for the day he would return to you.
He has always been smooth rather than cordial, and that translated into his signs. You can recall how he even swooped down to kiss your knuckles when he reintroduced himself. It impressed you. You asked why he learned. He told you started learning so he could talk to you. Later, when you both were comfortable enough to sleep in each other's beds, you asked the question once again.
"I felt left out being the only one who didn't know it."
That's what you thought was the truth.
A special woman named Natasha Romanoff was the one that finally gave you and Loki the last push out of platonic relations. One day she offered to take you to the pool, which was out of her benefit, as it was a hot day. When she asked why you were so hesitant to say yes, you explained that you had developed a crush on a certain someone, and him seeing you in a bathing suit would probably embarrass you to Asgard and back.
To Natasha, this is a golden opportunity. She can't say that she hadn't noticed the way the two of you seemed to draw together like magnets. Disgusting. You assured her that the crush was small.
You did end up going with her. But what she didn't tell you is that everyone else was going as well. She hid this on purpose. Loki had decided not to change into such skimpy clothes. He had assumed that the two of you would have shared an idea. He was wrong.
He kept his eye on you the entire time. The way you smiled at everyone, shifting in your standing position whenever you had to approach him. He could tell you were embarrassed.
What he did to 'soothe' you was place a hand under your chin and kiss your forehead before telling you you looked gorgeous. This had the opposite effect.
His lips were cold against your forehead. Much colder than any breeze your wet body could be exposed to.
A storm formed inside of your stomach. It raged on and on in the period of only a few seconds before dialogue. You had your response in mind. It was acting upon it that was hard.
Summary: Loki doesn’t want children because of his past, that’s before he found a box of your things.
Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst
Word Count: 820
—
A/N: This might not be most people’s cup of tea, but I was sure feeling it today lol, enjoy <3
You were going to be moving into his place soon, remants of clothing and accessories scattered across the room. He took a deat at the edge of your bed, glancing at the box before him. Without a second thought he grabbed it, pulling it towards the bed.
He opened the box, the rough cardboard scraping against his skin. The box looked aged and worn, seeming to be pretty used. Lifting each of the flaps he peeked inside. He knew it wasn’t right, he shouldn’t be invading your personal space but it called to him, for some odd reason or another.
At first glance it look like just some old pile of clothes, some neatly folded while others lay in disheveled heaps. There were a few toys, scattered here and there, and what looked like to be bottles. He didn’t know what to think as he reached inside, grabbing out an article of clothing before letting unfurl to its full length before him. It was a tiny thing, no larger than a foot he assumed. The fabric was soft and fuzzy, the design sweet and simple adorned with little bears that decorated every corner. He picked up another one, this time a little bigger with the word ‘princess’ labled on it, then another, and another, and once more. ‘Mommy’s girl’, he stilled, all he did was stare at it, such a small little thing. It hung limply in his hands, he didn’t notice when his palms started clam up or his fingertips tremble, or even the soft creek of the door opening beside him.
“Loki?” Your voice rang out, sweet and gentle, breaking the silence. Loki longed to hear you speak whenever he could, but he didn’t look up, even as he saw you examining him in the corner of his eyes.
With a small gasp you rushed over, snatching the onesie out of his arm’s before tossing it back in the box.
“I’m sorry,” your voice small and distant, “I was supposed to donate those.”
Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, as you always did when you were nervous.
“I-.”
“Why do you have them?” He was surprised at the sound of his own voice leaving his lips, he hadn’t wished to sound so rough. He knew how timid you could be, especially after everything you’ve been through.
Your voice trembled as you spoke, “I collected them, but,” you hesitated, “but I don’t anymore.”
He nodded, taking in your features. Your brows furrowed and your eyes shone with unshed tears.
“Do you want children?” You had discussed it before, both agreeing that you hadn’t needed them, content with just the two of you.
“I… I do- or well I did, but after you I really don’t need anything else… really.” You exclaimed, sitting at the side of the bed him. You took it his hand in yours, your voice choking up the words you were about to say. “Please… um please don’t leave.”
At first, he wanted to. And for a moment, he thought he was going to do just that. Why would he be with someone, who so obviously wanted something so much that he just couldn’t give, but one glance at your face stole it all away. The way your body shook, and your beautiful eyes poured silent tears, and your voice that pleaded for him stay. God you were gorgeous.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
As much as Loki knew the right thing to do was to leave, and let you be with someone that could give you everything you’d ever deserve and want. He couldn’t, he was a selfish god and that would never change. Therefore, he let himself dream. To invision a perfect future with you, where you were both together, settled in a home. Maybe a ring on his left hand, and yours with one too. Maybe he could dream about midnight dances and evening talks. Perhaps, if he thought just a little longer, he could hear the pitter-patter of little feet running around the house, filled with sounds of laughter and joy, and the overwhelming sensation happiness and love that swelled within him.
“Promise,” he said. You nodded meekly. His heart ached at the sight. He pulled you into him, your face nestling in the side of his neck releasing a quiet sob.
“I love you, Loki,” you murmured.
“I love you too,” he replied, kissing the top of your head. He didn’t tell you just yet what he felt. The way you opened him just a little more, when he imagined you with a sweet little bundle in your arms, and the happiest look he’d ever see splayed across your face. He wasn’t ready, not for awhile. He didn’t know if he would ever be, but just the thought of you, with a baby that was his chipped away at the cage around his heart just a little too deep.
Sarah I'm here to bother you and...you'll hate me for it but I'm doing it anyway yknow?
Okay, your nice NSFW filthy prompts, mm yes its a wonderful post.
Anyway, now that I've been intrigued-
Would you so ever kindly write 1, 2 and 11 (bc im filthy like that-) for Loki?
Because........why would I pass up the chance?
Anyway I'll go away now
-Clem
Burned
Prompts: "Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you?”
"Fucking is a reward, but you haven’t been good.”
"Be a good girl/boy for mommy/daddy.”
(I have played around with these a little so they won't be word for word!)
Loki x f!reader
Genre: Smut
Word count: 5.8k
Loki Masterlist
It had been nothing but a joke.
A stupid, painfully transparent attempt to elicit some small degree of jealousy in him and maybe, hopefully, be dragged back to your room for some angry sex. He knew that you loved him, that you would set the entire world ablaze if he asked you to, so you had been certain that your little joking flirtation with someone that wasn’t him would lead to nothing but difficulty walking properly for a few days.
Though, with the way Loki was now staring at you, you were beginning to believe that you had sorely miscalculated.
“You want me to fuck you?” he repeated your words from only seconds earlier, his voice deadly quiet. “Darling, having me fuck you is a reward. Do you think you deserve it after that little stunt you just pulled?”
His cool fingers firmly clasped your chin, leaving you with little other option than holding his gaze and watching his green eyes glitter dangerously. “Maybe I don’t, but that rock pressing against me tells me you’re going to anyway.” You smirked up at him, though the narrowing of his eyes had you fearing you may have just dug your own grave.
He jerked your chin up a fraction higher, his warm breath fanning across the tip of your nose. “Do I look like I’m playing, pet? Do I look like I won’t punish you?”
You inhaled sharply, feeling a dull throbbing begin between your legs. So far, his threats of punishment had been just that: threats. He had never actually followed through with them, something that easily emboldened you. This time would be no different; he wouldn’t actually punish you.
“Oh, no. Are you going to punish me? What are you going to do, Loki? Spank me? Whip me, maybe?” you replied, sarcasm dripping from every word that left your lips.
Loki’s hand fell from your chin and he took a single step back from you. “Take your clothes off. Right now.” His voice was firm and his eyes steely as they held yours.
He wasn’t fucking around this time.
Hot arousal blazed through you, sending your heart hammering like a drum in your chest and soaking your underwear. Rarely had he ever sounded so demanding; it almost had your knees give way underneath you. You unzipped the dress you were wearing, letting it fall from your body and pool at your feet, meeting Loki’s eyes as the material ghosted over your bare legs.
“Keep going,” he instructed at your brief hesitation.
You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you expecting me to say “yes, Sir?” you said before you could stop yourself.
Loki’s mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. “I’m expecting you to stop being a brat and do as I tell you.”
“Your expectations are too high,” you deadpanned, letting your bra and underwear quickly follow your dress until you stood naked before him.
His eyes travelled slowly over you, desire flaming in his green eyes as though he hadn’t seen you like this a thousand times before. While once his intense gaze would have had you blush and desperately try to cover yourself, now it only made you grow a little taller in the knowledge that it was your body and your skin igniting such raw, primal longing in him.
“Beautiful,” he said softly, stepping back in front of you and trailing his fingertips lightly up the inside of your thigh until he reached your clit. Your hips rolled instinctively for more when he began to trace teasing little circles. “And always so ready for me,” he said, removing his fingers far too soon and cleaning them off in his own mouth. The sight almost had you whimpering.
“Are you going to fuck me, or just stand there fantasising about it?” you challenged, voice turning hoarse from the featherlight touch against your thigh that had been enough to ignite a burning need for him
A wicked grin spread across his face and he clasped your chin loosely between his fingers once more. “Oh, my sweet little whore, what a wonderfully ironic choice of words,” he said.
Your heart began to beat wildly, threatening to break free from your chest. Maybe you hadn’t miscalculated.
Maybe angry, possessive sex was exactly what you were going to get.
“Well, don’t let me -”, you began.
Before the sentence could even leave your mouth, Loki bent to grasp you easily behind the knees and throw you over his shoulder, knocking the breath firmly from your lungs. You barely had a second to protest or brace against his back before he tossed you lightly onto the bed against the pile of throw pillows. Not for the first time you were reminded of how easy it would be for him to overpower you, to break you like you were nothing more than a delicate piece of china. He would rather die, of course, than ever hurt you, but the knowledge that he possessed the strength…
You shivered against the sheets.
Loki remained towering over you at the foot of the bed, silent while his green eyes glittered wickedly and his long, nimble fingers unfastened his belt, pulling it from the loops in one swift motion.
The quiet sound of it hitting the air had something in your lower stomach twist. “Are you going to spank me, my prince?” you taunted him.
He let the belt drop to the floor, the silver buckle clanging threateningly off the wooden floorboards. “I think you’d enjoy that far too much, my little masochist.” Your mocking smile faltered for the briefest of seconds, but Loki’s keen gaze caught it like a predator surely catches it prey. “You’re in quite the predicament, aren’t you, pet? I can practically hear the wheels in that pretty little head of yours turning: just what am I going to do to you?” His voice was like velvet as he taunted you, its softness a sharp contrast to the blazing look in his eyes as they trailed hungrily over your naked body.
You propped up on your elbows just as his knee sank into the mattress between your legs, and all too easily he was hovering above you, pinning you to the bed with just a look. There was another shimmer of green as his remaining clothes disappeared into the air.
He grasped both your hands in his, making you fall softly back against the pillows. “Am I going to restrain you to the bed? Tie one of your mortal toys between your legs and make you come again and again until you offer me anything to stop?” he murmured, placing your wrists against the headboard with one hand. You felt a faint glow of warmth beneath your skin accompanied by the unmistakable shimmer of Loki’s magic.
Like countless times before, your hands were secured to the solid beam of wood by silk ties.
“Or,” he continued, his fingers now settling between your legs to trace teasing patterns against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He drifted so wonderfully close to where you burned for him, only to retreat back down your thigh without so much as grazing you. “Am I going to bring you to the brink of pleasure over and over, getting you closer every time, but never letting you have your release, hmm?”
“Loki!” you groaned, tugging roughly against the silk ties to pull them taut. “Stop fucking around.”
Still hovering over you, his strong arms caging you to the mattress, Loki’s lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, my darling, I’m only getting started with what I have planned for you,” he purred. “I told you that having me fuck you is a reward, didn’t I?”
“Then hurry up and start rewarding me, my prince.” Your words held a distinct bite of frustration, the arousal flowing forcefully through your blood robbing you of any attempt to tease or taunt him back. You ached too badly for him, for his mouth, for his cock.
“I have no intention of rewarding you after the little performance you put on tonight,” he replied easily, the same taunting smirk still on his face. He rested back on his heels and your eyes instantly dropped to his cock standing proud and erect. A fiery heat rolled torturously through you.
Another deep flash of green light drew your eyes back to his hand where you saw the familiar thick material dangling from his fingertips. You inhaled deeply.
He really wasn’t fucking around tonight.
“Oh yes, pet,” he said quietly, as though he had read your thoughts, and leaned back in to take your sight.
Slowly, rich jade green silk settled over your eyes, the smooth material easily obscuring your vision and painting your whole world black. Loki’s long fingers secured it comfortably behind your head, his hand instantly dropping to draw soothing little circles over your hip to still the initial uneasiness that always arose at the sudden darkness; a silent gesture of promise that he was still there.
Gently, as though you were a delicate china doll, he adjusted your head against the pillows, ensuring that there was nothing that would tug or poke or cause any pain that he himself wasn’t invoking.
“Beautiful, my darling,” he murmured, bending down to capture your lips in a kiss so chaste that his earlier words and promises slipped wholly from your mind.
You would have been more than content to simply let him kiss you, so when his lips left yours you audibly whined. “Kiss me again,” you begged hoarsely, not ready to give up the feel of his mouth on yours.
A puff of his breath hit your face as he laughed quietly. “Do you think you deserve another kiss?” he asked, tracing the backs of his fingers idly along your thigh.
The tiniest sound of discontent escaped you, your brow knitting together over the top of your blindfold. You were craving him in the most innocent way, desiring nothing more than the feel of his mouth against yours. Surely he wouldn’t deny you that?
“Yes,” you answered simply, all your earlier bravado having disappeared like smoke in the wind.
He laughed softly again, but you could already feel the brush of his hair against your shoulders. “I’m inclined to agree with you this time, my darling,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
The mattress shifted slightly beneath you and quickly, wondrously, his lips returned to yours. Your own parted easily for him, drinking in the taste of him, the feel of him. You would never be able to get enough. His kiss was deep and oh so slow, as though the hands of time had stopped and all that mattered to him was savouring the taste of your lips. The need to wrap your arms around him and pull him as close as physically possible to you was nearly overpowering, making a pleading whimper sound against his lips.
Another rumble of laughter shook his chest and he pulled back from you once more. “Distracting me won’t work,” he chimed softly, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.
“I wasn’t trying to distract you,” you said, desperately trying to reach forward and claim his lips again, though your bound wrists effectively pinned you to the bed.
“Remember who you’re talking to, darling,” he replied, his lips now beginning to press softly to your collarbone.
Right.
The God of Lies.
“Fine!” you huffed, letting your head fall back against the pillows with a quiet thump.
“We are feeling rather bratty tonight, aren’t we?” he said smoothly, his warm mouth now at your breasts indicating that he was slowly making his way down your body.
You arched into him when his tongue, wet and hot, swirled around one erect nipple. “Maybe you should fuck the brat out of me then,” you said, gasping softly when his fingers began to pluck and twist at the other.
“Maybe I will” he replied, sinking his teeth into sensitive skin to draw a yelp from you.
You shivered at his words, burning with the anticipation of what they were promising and almost giddy from knowing he had only been teasing about not fucking you. Lazily, his lips left a wet trail down your stomach until he stopped between your legs and you felt him use his fingers to easily part you, exposing you fully to him.
“Soaked,” he murmured. “Who are you this soaked for, darling?” he asked. You bucked suddenly against the sheets when you felt the lightest flick of his tongue against your clit.
“You, Loki!” you moaned, hips lifting off the bed in a desperate search for more.
“Again,” he said, giving another tiny flick of his tongue.
“It’s for you! It’s always for you!” you said.
“Who do you belong to?” he asked, beginning to trace his tongue in teasing little circles.
“You!” you cried out, trying with all your might to grind against his face.
He pulled back for the briefest of seconds, enough to make you whine pitifully. “Let me hear you say it, pet.”
“I belong to you, Loki!”
You heard him hum his agreement between your legs. “That’s right. You’re mine. I think a little reminder of that might be what you need, hmm?”
He didn’t wait for your answer, instead placed his tongue firm and flat against your cunt, effectively pulling any coherant thought completely from your head. The silk around your eyes only intensified every tormenting swirl and torturous flick. Loki could play your body like a violin, your soft sighs and whimpers being the only music he needed to follow, and before long he was driving you hard and fast towards the delicious edge of pleasure.
You gasped out his name in a silent plea for more, a plea for him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. You were so close.
“So close.” You murmured. “So close, Loki,” you continued to breathe out.
Your back lifted into an almost perfect arch off the bed, your bound hands curling into tight fists as the tidal wave of pleasure steadily built. He had you right there…you were right there…right…
“No,” he purred, his mouth leaving your dripping cunt.
You deflated against the bed, answering him with an anguised groan. “Don’t be an ass, Loki, please!” you pleaded.
“Oh, my darling, I did warn you that I’m only getting started with you,” he taunted. His lips were quickly on yours again, the sharp tang of your own arousal coating his tongue. All the while, two slim fingers slipped inside you, hooking up expertly and making the breath catch in your throat. “Tell me again who you belong to.”
“I belong to you,” you answered easily, close to breathless and rolling your hips to meet every pump of his fingers.
“And who is the only person who gets to fuck this pretty cunt?” he continued, his fingers slowly beginning to pick up speed inside you.
“You, Loki. Only you,” your voice was little more than a whisper floating from your lips. “Please, faster,” you begged him.
He obliged easily. If you hadn’t been so lost to the feeling of being propelled towards your release, you would have noticed that he obliged a little too easily seeing as he loved nothing more than delaying your pleasure until you were practically crying with desperation.
You were soon keening under his fingers, lips rounded in a silent scream as the pressure in your core kept building and building.
“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Loki’s voice cooed at you, so close that you knew he was watching every microexpression that flickered across your face.
“Y..yes!” you stuttured out, bracing for the wondrous release that was only mere seconds away.
“That’s too bad, isn’t it?” he said in the same mocking voice, removing his fingers from you without ceremony. Tears formed instantly in the back of your eyes at once again having your pleasure so cruelly ripped from your grasp.
“Loki!” you whined, thrashing wildly in the sheets. “Please!”
“Please, what, darling?” he asked, feinging innocence. You felt the mattress shift beneath you again as he stood from the bed, the absence of any further sound telling you he remained where he stood, watching you.
There was a faint shift in the energy of the room, goosebumps erupting over your skin as he used his magic. You could only imagine what sort of toy he had conjured to torture you further…
“Please fuck me,” you begged pathetically, the ache between your legs burning stronger with each passing second and reminding you of just how joyously close to a release you had been.
“But, darling,” Loki answered, a hint of disbelief creeping in his voice, “I am fucking you.”
You went still against the sheets, every wheel in your brain turning to try and work out what he meant. He wasn’t fucking you, he wasn’t even touching you. “Loki, wha…” you tried to speak, still furiously trying to work out what he meant.
“I am fucking you,” he repeated in the same easy voice.
The room was silent as you fought desperately to find meaning in his words, the only sound being that of your own breathing as you repeated them over and over in your head. Only when you were seconds away from admitting defeat and on the precipice of begging him for understanding did the silk blindfold begin to evaporate from over your eyes, disappearing particle by tiny particle until you were presented with a clear look at what he was doing.
Fresh, burning arousal pooled instantly between your thighs when you took in the sight of him at the end of the bed.
He stood there fully naked, glossy black curls tousled around his face, and wrapped in his arms, head thrown back against his shoulder in apparent pleasure, was you.
His arms were wrapped securely around her - your - body, his long, slim fingers slotted easily between the clone’s legs to massage her clit. She gave a soft moan of pleasure, rocking her hips against each thrust of his hand, to which he only gave her more.
You could only watch in stunned silence as he pleasured her, your mind too consumed with the sight of yourself locked in Loki’s arms while you were somehow still bound to the bed.
“What is it, pet?” Loki taunted, his fingers between your clone’s thighs picking up speed and making her whimper in his arms. “Have I never shown you this little trick of mine? How impolite of me,” he said, feigning shock. Your eyes were locked on his fingers and how they expertly pleasured your clone, filling the room with her soft gasps and moans of pleasure, and leaving you yearning for his cock.
“Loki…” you whined pitifully, tugging fruitlessly against your restraints.
“Yes?” he asked, his face now buried in the clones neck, kissing her on the exact spot that always sent a shiver of excitement shooting down your spine.
“You’ve made your point,” you pleaded, silently begging him with your eyes to stop torturing you.
He laughed in reply, a low, quiet sound that told you he thought otherwise. “I disagree,” he said simply. You watched him guide your clone towards the end of the bed, somewhat mesmerised by how well your body moudled to his. He placed a hand flat on her back, bending her over until her hands landed between your spread legs with a soft thump against the sheets. “You said I should fuck the brat out of you, pet. Why don’t you be a good girl and watch me?” He wound his hand into her hair, pulling her head back to make hold direct eye contact with yourself.
“That’s…that’s not what I meant,” you replied weakly.
“You should choose your words more carefully.” He smirked at you, the unmistakable glint of mischief glittering in his green eyes. He adjusted her arms on the bed, pushing her forward by the tiniest degree to leave you with an unobstructed view as he prepared to take her from behind. “Look at you, darling. Look how eagerly you respond to my every touch. Always so ready to please your god.”
You could do nothing but look, close to enthralled by how you reacted beneath him, how you bent and moved smoothly at every press of his fingertips to your skin, like he was the puppetmaster and you his willing doll.
From the top of your vision, you could see his mischievous smirk. “Good girl,” he praised you softly. “Keep your eyes on her. I want you watching your own face while I fuck you.”
One hand remained planted on the small of her back, while with the other he began to guide his cock towards her entrance. He wasn’t touching you, wasn’t laying so much as a finger on you, but still you could feel his phantom touch burn against your skin. When your clone released a soft sigh of contentment and her fingers bunched up in the rumpled sheets, you knew he was teasingly stroking the head of his cock through her folds. A whimper left you before you even recognised it in your throat, followed in close tandem by your hips bucking wildly off the bed.
Loki gave a small, mocking “tut”. “You can’t feel a thing, can you, darling?” he taunted.
“No,” you whimpered, your voice sounding pathetic even to your own ears.
His face twisted with feigned concern. “Poor thing,” he said, curling his fingers around your clone’s hips for leverage as he eased himself slowly inside her. The quiet curses that fell from his lips along with the soft, breathy moans floating from your clone’s mouth as he filled her had you clenching with need, easily pulling from your memory how good it felt when he filled you to the brim. “Norns, if only you could see how your perfect little cunt swallows my cock. So warm and tight. You feel like Valhalla clenching around me.”
Fresh, scorching heat swept through every vein in your body, the praise he was heaping upon you making you burn for him. Your eyes flickered back to your clone, watching her lips part into a small “o” and shine slightly beneath the light of the room. Her eyes were already beginning to cloud over with pleasure as Loki continued to fuck her steadily, and every moan and whimper of contentment that fell from her mouth only made the pool of arousal beneath you grow.
“Tell me what you feel, pet. Describe every single sensation to me,” he continued to taunt.
“What do you feel, pet, hmm? Tell me?” he continued to taunt.
“I don’t feel anything!” you cried, arching off the best as best you could with your wrists bound. “Loki, please!”
He ignored you.
“Look at yourself, darling. Look how wonderfully you take me,” he said, the barest hint of strain in his voice. “You were made for me.” Loose strands of hair began to fall around his face with every forceful thrust of his hips, thrusts that had your clones eyes beginning to roll back in her head.
“Loki,” you continued to plead, feeling like a blazing fire had been lit between your legs and each thrust of his hips into your clone only fanned the flames.
He continued ignoring you.
“I had such plans for you tonight, darling. Plans to make you see stars,” he said, his fingers now digging into the flesh of your clone’s hips. “What a shame you decided you’d rather be a brat instead.”
You released a tormented groan. “Alright, fine!” you huffed. “I was trying to make you jealous. I’m sorry!” you continued to plead, the ache between your legs reaching such a nearly overwhelming intensity you would have done anything, said anything that he asked you to.
“I’m sure you are,” Loki replied, his head beginning to tip back on his shoulders with every forceful thrust into your clone. “But the time for apologies is over.”
Your head fell back against against the pillows, a loud cry of utter frustration permeating through the room.
“Ah, ah, pet,” he chided softly, using the force of his seider to pull your head forward. “Keep your eyes on her. Watch as I fill her with my seed and imagine it was that your poor aching cunt that I was spilling into,” he taunted.
With his seider wrapped firmly around you, you had no choice but to watch every micro expression on his face and hers; the baring of his teeth and set of his strong jaw as he reached his release along with every roll of your clone’s eyes and her vice like grip around the sheets between you both. Your cunt clenched and pulsed with every sinful moan that he released, desperate to have his cock driving you towards a blinding climax.
“Loki…” you whined again, still holding the faintest trace of hope that this was only an elaborate tease, that any second now your clone would dissolve before you and you would feel him slide wonderously into your soaked core.
His lips curled into a smile, lust heavy eyes beginning to slowly flutter closed. “You sound so beautiful when you beg for me. Be a good girl and keep saying my name,” he said. You let a defiant silence fill the room, causing Loki to laugh. “Still intent on being a brat, aren’t you?”
“Only because you’re still intent on being an ass!” you shot back, your earlier brazeness beginning to creep back with every passing second that he wasn’t inside you.
“How very…unfair of you…when I am the wronged party here,” he replied between pants, his release getting closer and closer with each snap of his hips.
“I said I was sorry!” you shot back, every twist of pleasure on your clone’s face heightening the already fervent levels of arousal coursing through your blood.
“And I… heard you,” Loki replied simply from between gritted teeth, his eyes now squeezed shut as his pleasure began to overtake him.
Squirming in a pool of your own arousal you watched his thrusts into your clone become more erratic, heard every sinful moan and curse that slipped from him as he free falled into his orgasm. Your clone gave a shout of pleasure, her sharp, ragged breaths making your stomach twist with need. They were both lost to their pleasure while you completely soaked, frustrated, and desperate for Loki’s cock.
“You feel…magnificent…as always, my darling,” he panted as he came down from his high.
“Loki, please,” you begged again, trying in vain to force tears from your eyes in an attempt to make him feel pity for you, though he could always see through your pretenses as easy as you could see through glass.
He remained quiet for several moments, still half lost to the aftershocks of pleasure and, gradually, his deep, laboured breathing began to even out. “Still empty and hungry for my cock, aren’t you?” he mocked huskily, a low groan tumbling from him when he removed himself from your clone..
“Yes,” you answered, making your voice as small as possible.
“Poor thing,” he repeated, sounding entirely unconcerned and turning his attention back to your clone. “On the bed.” He tapped her ass, and you watched as she climbed to settle between your legs. “Closer,” he told her, guiding her so her hands rested on each side of your hips and her face was directly in front of yours.
“Loki…” you whined again, having believed the night’s torture to be over.
“You only have yourself to blame,” he chimed, positioning himself back between her legs. You watched, quietly tormented, as he eased back inside her, a low hiss of pleasure leaving his lips once he was fully sheathed. Only seconds after, the silk ties that had been securing you to the bed shimmered away to nothing, once again leaving your hands free. Loki held your gaze with a wicked glint glittering in his eyes. “This time you’re going to touch yourself while you watch me fuck you,” he instructed simply.
It was the quickest you had ever obeyed him.
Swift, desperate fingers slipped between your own legs to sink gratefully into your own wetness. A placated sigh drifted from your lips at finally being permitted to tend to the ache burning through your tortured core, and in seconds your fingers were coated with your own arousal.
“Fuck,” you breathed out softly, letting your head drop back against the pile of cushions now strewn about the bed. Already, gentle waves of faint pleasure were building under your fingers, momentarily making you forget about Loki and your own clone positioned between your legs.
“What did I say, pet?” he chided lightly, once again using his seider to pull your head forward. “Keep your eyes on me, and do not come,” he instructed firmly.
You answered with the faintest hint of a whimper, but continued to touch yourself to the sight of him fucking your clone. Each lustful moan and grunt of pleasure that spilled from him only sent fresh spikes of arousal searing through your blood. Would you ever crave another being with the same ferocity that you craved him?
Loki slipped an arm around your clone’s waist to pull her back flush against his chest, bending so close to you that you could easily see the thin sheen of sweat beginning to cover his forehead. His eyes drifted to your hand between your legs, a satisfied smirk crossing his face. “Look at how soaked you are watching me fuck you,” he taunted. “Are you imagining how my cock feels when I’m inside you? How I can make you scream like no mortal man ever could?”
“Yes,” you groaned, bunching the rumpled bedsheets firmly in your first. His seider still held your head in place, though you wanted nothing more than to collapse back against the pillows and lose yourself to the pleasure that your own fingers were steadily bringing you.
“My…good…little whore,” Loki panted, burying his face in the clone’s neck. You could hear him kiss and suck the spot under your ear that never failed to make you fall apart for him. “Touching yourself…to the thought…of me,” he said, words becoming throaty and hoarse and the firm sound of skin on skin indicating that his release was only moments away.
The faint buzz of pleasure that had been building in your own core had evolved into a burning flame that licked and flickered incessantly and threatened to engulf you in the fiery glows of an orgasm. The sight of him before you, his hair tousled messily around his shoulders, teeth bared and almost lost to the pleasure your body was bringing him, was the only aphrodisiac you needed. His relentless chasing of his own release only propelled you towards your own, and soon you couldn’t help but to disobey him, eyes fluttering firmly closed as the fiery flames of pleasure began to sweep through every pore.
A feeling that lasted mere seconds before your hands were forced back against the headboard, held rigidly in place by Loki’s seider. The sharp, aguished “no” ripped from your throat alongside Loki’s taunt.
“Did you…really think I’d let you come, pet?” he rasped, his grip around your clone like a vice while the rhythm of his thrusts into her became steadily more erratic.
You twisted and flailed in the sheets, the burning arousal between your thighs only intensifying with the orgasm that had been stolen from you. “Loki! Please!” you begged, half close to tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please let me come! Please!”
Your pleading went unheard as Loki’s own release shook through him again. Your name tumbled from his lips like a chant as he plunged into his orgasm, melting into a steady stream of groans and Asgardian curses that had you rolling your hips desperately against the bed. In front of you, so close you could see every mark on her skin, your clone erupted in her own climax, the sound of your own voice consumed with pleasure torturing you in the sweetest way.
“Please,” you whimpered once more, though you knew it was of little use. Already coming down from his high, Loki rested his forehead against your clone’s shoulder, giving a final few shuddering thrusts before he went still. The only sound in the room became the laboured sound of his breathing.
You pulled against Loki’s seider with another quiet whimper, the pathetic sound causing him to raise his head and give you a lopsided grin, still drunk on the aftermath of his orgasm. He pulled out of your clone with a final quiet groan and, with a lazy flick of his wrist, she disappeared like a fleeting summer breeze.
“My poor darling,” Loki cooed mockingly, maneuvering up the bed to kiss you. “You’re all hot and bothered, aren’t you?” His fingers dipped back between your legs, the wet sound of your sopping cunt making him grin.
“Yes,” you answered in barely a whisper, a faint sigh of relief following close behind as his fingers caused tiny waves of pleasure to begin washing through you again.
“Good,” he purred, his teeth sinking into your neck. “Tell me when you’re close.”
His skilled fingers worked quickly between your legs, pushing you quickly towards release. It took only a matter of seconds before your back was arching off the sheets, wrists again straining against his seider.
“Loki, I’m gonna come,” you breathed out, feeling every muscle in your body tense in anticipation. Release was so close…
“Ask for my permission, pet,” he warned softly.
You fought against the rising pleasure, every fibre working valiantly to keep it at bay. “Please…Loki, please…please can I come?” you babbled out, a single hot tear of frustration leaking from your eye.
His reply was swift and soft. “No,” he breathed into your ear, pulling his hand from your cunt. The piercing cry that spilled from your lungs was only silenced when Loki brought his fingers to your lips, silently instructing you to clean them. “Good girl,” he said when your tongue ran obediently over them, his free hand gently brushing away several stray tears that had continued to fall.
He removed his seider from around your wrists and, still burning with arousal, you allowed him to guide you between the sheets. You curled close to the familiar comfort of his chest, breathing in the heady, masculine scent of him as he wrapped an arm firmly around your shoulders.
“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked softly into your hair.
You fought the urge to continue being a brat to him. “Yes,” you answered, your frustration at him clear as day.
Quiet laugher rumbled in his chest. “Good girl,” he repeated, placing a kiss to your head. A hand reached back between your legs and for one glorious, shining moment you believed he was finally going to grant you release, but all you felt was the faint warm glow of his magic. “Incase of any wandering hands in the night,” he teased.
You gave his leg a gentle kick with your foot. “Asshole.”
His laughter bubbled in your ear once again. “Sleep well, darling girl.”
Apparently, Loki was not kidding about this morning. Because here you were, in his room after he told you to get in his bed and ‘be ready’ as you recall. He didn’t specify what “be ready” meant, but you guessed it was code for ‘get naked’. Therefore, you did. It was exhilarating at first, your pussy wet and your nipples hard from anticipation. Well until he had left you waiting for an hour now. What the hell, you were pissed at him for leaving you so long in such an excited state. You thought more than once if you should just have a little fun with yourself before he arrived but you wanted to wait, like a good girl.
Okay, maybe you touched yourself a little bit, but not much.
Now you were examining his room, you’ve never been inside it, but its aura radiated Loki. You guessed Loki had done something with his magic, because the room definitely wasn’t something modern and sleek like the rest of the tower, but it was cozy and inviting. The floors were a rich dark oak, adding warmth to the cool toned emerald green walls. It was beautiful, your eyes drawn to the shelves adorned with a mix of trinkets and books. Another thing you noticed were the various plants he had scattered around the corners of his room.
Curling into the sheets, you took one of his pillows to cuddle while you waited. Taking in the scent. it smelt just like Loki, a musky mint with a hint of the cologne he wears. You were just starting to drift asleep with the pillow still clutched to your chest when the door creaked open.
“Loki!”
He looked you up and down. “Oh? I didn’t imagine you’d be so ready,” Loki said, leaning on the arch of the door. A smirk splayed on his face, his words playfully mocking.
“Loki, I can’t believe you left me waiting for-,” you trailed off, his eyes glittered with amusement as they traveled down your body. “Oh my god!” You flush, scattering to find the pillow you tossed when Loki had startled you, completely forgetting that you were stark naked.
Loki chuckles, waking up beside the bed before catching your chin and making your downturned eyes look up at him. “Couldn’t wait a few minutes, are you truly that desperate to get a taste of me?” He smirked, his hands ghosting down your body, feeling your curves.
“It was not just a ‘few minutes’ ah-,” you gasp, as his long pale fingers reach your awaiting cunt, slipping between your slick folds, “Loki!”
He leans down, nipping the shell of your ear as he caresses your needy pussy, “Such a good girl, all wet and ready for me.”
You mewl as his fingers circulate your engorged clit, the sound of his voice reverberating in your ears. He dips his fingers into your cunt, pumping them a couple times before bringing them to his lips. Swirling his tongue around the slickened fingers he takes them into his mouth groaning at the taste.
“You’re about to taste so much sweeter, pet.”
Before you even get the care to process the meaning of his words, you fist the front of his tunic forcing the both of you down until his lips crash against yours. You moan as he lightly slaps your thigh, hurrying to undo the buttons of his shirt.
Your hands tremble with need as you fumble with the buttons, finally managing to pull the shirt apart, revealing his toned chest. You studied him, running your fingers down his pale skin, feeling every dip and curve. He was the very definition of a god.
Your arms wrapping around his neck without a thought, pulling him tighter towards you. His lips pressed against yours, releasing an airy moan. He left your lips, tracing down your jaw to the side of your neck.
“Before we start,” he sits up, studying you as his tongue tastes his lips, “I have a little treat for you, well really me.” He smirks.
Lifting the palm of his hand towards the ceiling, from what you recall his seiðr, you guessed, swirled in his hands, the beautiful green lighting the features of his face. A small portal opened above dropped down a bottle of whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and strawberries.
You raise a brow at him, “and what do you expect to do with that?”
“Eat it,” he grins, “off you.”
“Oh,”
“Yes, since you thought it was so humorous to tempt me these last couple days, I might as well take what you so gladly been offering.” He says, popping open the bottle of whipped cream before spurting some on each of your nipples.
You gasp as the cool cream hits your nipple, sending a small shock of pleasure through you. He takes a nipple into his sucking on the sweet cream before moving to the other and swirling his heated tongue around your cooled nipple.
“Please, Loki,” You sigh, grinding your hips against his body to release the building pressure of your pulsing clit.
“So needy,” he grins, “open.” he says, bringing the can to your lips before filling your mouth with sweet cream. You kept your gaze solely on Loki, he brings a strawberry up to your lips, you suck jt softly before biting into it. It’s juices squirting on your chin. Swallowing the cream and strawberry, then licking up the remnants that had dribbled down your chin. He pries your mouth open once again, before shoving his index finger with your mouth, “Suck.”
You did, your tongue swirling around his finger, that had been covered in sweet chocolate syrup moments before. His eyes never left your lips, hazey from the lust that clouded in them. Retracting his fingers, he kisses you, his tongue slipping between your lips tasting the sugary dessert.
His lips glide down your body to your chest, your stomach and then between your thighs. Kissing roughly at them, he takes the whipped cream spurting some all of your heated core before layering it with chocolate syrup. He looked absolutely feral, almost as if he was going to devour you whole. Not wasting a moment longer he dives head first, his flat tongue licking up the cream like an animal.
“Fuck Loki,” you groan as he sucks at your pulsating clit. You threw your head back, your hips bucking against his mouth. Tangling your hands in his hair, you pull him against you harder, the familiar tingle traveling up your body in waves. Throwing your head back you lock your legs against his head, trapping him in your wet heat as your moans reverberate against the walls.
“Loki, g-god, Loki I’m ah!” Your orgasm crashes over you, rippling down your body, “fuck.”
Coming down from your high you didn’t waste a moment before you had Loki flipped over on his back, straddling him on the bed.
Bending down you kiss him roughly, gripping his jaw and nipping at his ear.
“My turn,” you hum, kissing down his body just as he had just done with you. “God Loki, you’re perfect.”
You didn’t miss the slight whimper he released at that, nor the way his hands trembled, but that only made you want him more. You snatch the chocolate syrup from beside you, drizzling all over his chest like a freshly served sunday, just for you.
“I like you like this, all sweet and ready for me,” you smile down at him, “and so obedient.”
He growled at that, “If you don’t-,” you shut him up, spilling some whipped cream in his mouth.
“Don’t talk back. Be a good boy for me.” You grin, though the protest in his eyes linger, he relents. Leaning down and taking one long lick from his navel up between his pecs, “god you taste good.” You continued the routine, licking up his toned chest, relishing the soft moans and whimpers he released under you. You slid down between his legs, his member standing impressively before you. Pre-cum dribbled from the top of the enlarged tip; licking your lips you drizzle some more of the chocolate syrup before topping it with whipped cream.
Salivating at the sight of your awaiting dessert, you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the tip, you bob your head down then back up. The mix of the sweetened cream and his slightly salty taste created a surprising pleasant sensation. His cock sat heavy in your mouth, its strong scent surrounding you. You swallowed him back down, almost reaching the base, fisting the rest of him you couldn’t swallow. Reaching your hand down between you to fondle his balls. Your warmed tongue sliding up and down his shaft with swift and practiced movements.
He hissed beneath you, hands gripping tightly at the sheets, his cock twitching for its awaiting release.
“Yes, god!” He groaned, hips bucking, thrusting his cock into your mouth. Swallowing his cock one last time you pushed yourself to your limits, until the tip nudged the back of your throat. Glancing up through your lashes you watched as Loki came undone, his body shuddering and moans slipping off his tongue like honey. His eyes locked with yours as his thick heated cum spurted within you, coating the back of your throat.
After you let him settle, you release him as you sit up, his length still as solid as before. Glancing up at him in question, he chuckles between his heavy breaths. His voice alone was enough to send tides down on your pussy.
“We’re not done yet, my sweet.”
His hands travel up your thighs before gripping at your hips and your world, yet again, goes spinning. You sat back, his cock teasing at your folds.
“Just fuck me already, Loki.” You growl, your desperation slamming through you.
“Ah now, you’ve had your turn, it’s mine now.” He spreads your lips with his cock, painfully slow as he slides in your wet heat.
“Fuck Loki!” He was bigger than any other partner you’ve had in the past, his cock alone spreading you wide open. Finally sheathing his throbbing member fully inside you, he sits for a moment before rolling his hips back until only the tip remained, then slamming back against you, hard. “Yes, again!”
He slaps your thigh hard enough to bruise, leaving a sweet throbbing sensation.
“I don’t take orders,” he pounds into you quick and merciless.
Huffing, you curl your hands in his silky hair, yanking him down into a kiss, biting his bottom lip. “We’ll see.”
He grunts, toppling on top of you. His lips slates against yours, passion lacing every movement. Your breasts bounce at every thrust, groaning when he hits a particularly sweet spot. He ruts into you with quick heavy blows, his balls slapping against your wet cunt. Your pussy clenches against his thick cock, driving you both closer.
“Yes Loki, fuck, ah!” sweat slips down your glistening skin, you listened to his moans like a song and breathed in his scent like it was life. “Loki, please.”
His movements never waiver as he circles your clit, toppling you over the edge.
“Yes, yes, yes!” You scream, gripping his ass and pulling him into you harder as your orgasm splays through you. Not too soon after his thrusts become uncoordinated and sloppy, slamming back into you once more before filling your wet sopping cunt with his seed. He settles on top of you, his heavy pants tickling the side of your neck.
It felt nice, comforting. The way his weight rested on you as you both settled down from your highs. Picking up his head from your neck, he rests it against yours, breathing you in. Like you were his source of life, the only thing he needed, or maybe it was still just the after effects of your activities. That didn’t matter to you though, the only thing that mattered was the way he held you. The way his fingers traced the contours of your face with such tenderness you don’t think you’ve ever experienced before. Pressing his lips lightly against yours, kissing you softly, savoring the taste of you.
here's a late night sketch of my one and only 💚 this lady Loki was also a useful inking technique practice, not my favourite method but still very cool!
Masterlist for The Rite is HERE
My regular Masterlist is HERE
Summary: (4) You confront Loki about Fandral - and the rules of the Rite are bent to breaking point. (w/c 4.1k)
Warnings: 18+ only. Minors DNI. Asgard Loki! x FReader. Smuttish (+ 3rd party smut). Jealousy. Loki being a naughty prince.
Had you been expecting Loki to follow you?
That he’d thunder down those spiral steps and throw the bronze door open? Tear across the market square half-naked and yank you by the shoulders to say, ‘Stop – that scoundrel is a lying vagabond…’ ?
Yes, obviously.
But he didn’t.
You couldn’t settle back in your chambers. Picking things up, putting them down, moving to the window - always on edge for a knock that didn’t come.
‘The pleasure of the subject is only one part of the ritual. You cannot possibly fulfil the second.’
The fuck was that supposed to mean? Loki never mentioned a second part. As far as you knew, all you had to do was lie there and let him eat you out, not contain any enthusiasm, and try not to die from overstimulation.
Sure…there might be other weird shit, it was the Asgardian Royals after all – but this seemed important.
If Fandral’s telling the truth, that is.
You frown, staring at a wiry bird shifting over the rooftops. Clearly, Fandral's a shit-stirrer. Clearly, he’s jealous, Loki had said as much. You’d be pretty jealous too if you were the only person in the inner-circle Loki hadn’t fucked over the past five centuries. An unexpected wrench of envy twists your stomach.
But the prince you’d seen in the Weaving Rooms was entirely different to the one that stared down from frescos and observed his worshippers with cool disdain. A smile that lit up his eyes, the inflection of a breathless chuckle as you caught him by surprise, a faint blush that could be mistaken as humble, the hesitant lust which thrummed beneath his skin as you’d pressed to him –
‘I need to see you,’ he’d said. ‘Every day from now until then.’
Like you meant something to him, and it felt…real.
Was it really a game? Would he pull the rug at the last minute before the ceremony? It was very on brand, you’d admit. The thought sends a violent shudder up your spine.
The next morning, there’s no knock at the door from Loki’s apprentice. No letters, no nothing.
Anxiety creeps to anger, and with every inch the sun moves up the sky, your feet get itchier. Does he think I’m just going to sit around and wait for him? Fucking gods. Maybe I should just tell him no – then he’ll have do the Rite with Fandral, see how that works out. Serve him right.
But then… the thought of Loki crawling on top of that smarmy, coiffured arsehole invades your brain. Shit.
You shift down the corridors of the court towards the interior palace. No one looks at you today. The golden doors of the main entrance to the royal quarters loom, and you swallow, heart loud in your ears.
A guard side-steps in front of you with a cock of an eyebrow as effective as a raise of his hand.
“I’m here to see Prince Loki,” you say. The eyebrow cocks higher.
“You know how many people try that every day?” He looks down to your feet, and back to your face with a sneer. “Most of them dress better for the occasion. Or at least bring a bribe.”
You stare at him with heat creeping up your neck. “He knows who I am.”
He laughs. “I bet he does.”
“He does!”
“Look…” The guard cups your elbow and ushers you to the side, glancing towards his peers at the other end of the door. “I don’t want to embarrass you, love. Just do yourself a favour, and leave.”
Your eyes narrow. “I’m here to see Prince Loki,” you say again, harsher this time. “Can someone just go and tell him I’m here? He’ll be pissed if he finds out you turned me away.”
The guard flinches fractionally, studying your face. Eventually he leaves, and five minutes later, he’s back.
“Come on,” he says gruffly. No apology, very nice. The gold door slams and the bustle of the outer court disappears. The air is cooler in here, a strange stillness hanging like perfume.
More marble carves in large arches along the corridor, open to garden running up the middle of a courtyard. Somewhere, water trickles - but you can't see it. “He’s drunk,” the guard says without looking back.
“Excuse me?”
“The Prince. He’s drunk, and he has company.”
You frown. It isn’t even midday. Suddenly your throat feels very tight, and you feel very small.
If Loki had wanted to see me, he’d have asked. He’d have sent for me. So much for being aloof and interesting. Your irritation towards Fandral blooms with new fervour: not only has he ruined your excitement; he’s ruined your hot-girl-mystery.
The guard stops abruptly and you collide into his shoulder-guards. He clears his throat, stamping a staff twice.
You roll your eyes, shuffling around him. Through an open set of doors is a room like something from the whispered tales of olden Asgard. Chiffon flutters at the windows, long plush cushions lining the floor draped with blankets that shimmer in sunlight. In the corner, some blindfolded guy is plucking at a lute. Platters of nuts, grapes, sweet cakes lie half-demolished across the floor, and twice the amount of goblets as people.
And then...your jaw goes slack.
Bodies shift in the room, two dozen, at least - all moving to their own rhythm like waves rippling to shore. A woman sits perched on the windowsill; you can’t see her face, only her legs wrapped around a man’s arse as he slowly thrusts into her. Her hair shimmers like spun gold; lips stained with rich juices while she pants to the ceiling.
On the cushions, a man and woman lie side-by-side, kissing languidly as two other men busy themselves between their respective thighs. People are fucking…everywhere: sets of two, three, four. Norns. You’re trying to find somewhere to set your eyes that doesn’t involve breasts, or glistening body parts, or faces twisted in pleasure that you definitely shouldn’t be witness to.
And then, they land on Loki.
He's looking directly at you with a lazy, dark delight. The Prince lounges across a gilded chair in the corner; one thigh hiked over the armrest and the other stretched to its full length. His boots look more obscene on him than usual, today – sprawling like that.
The laces of his shirt are undone, dark tangles of hair spread over his shoulders and pearls of sweat glistening on his collarbone. With a mildly horrifying lurch of your stomach, you notice the ties at his groin are loose, too. But he’s not got someone squirming around his cock, and that’s something, at least.
His lips move, but no sound comes out.
You frown as he waves a hand, beckoning you through the doors. Dangling on the precipice of a flee, you feel one foot move in front of the other – and then your face feels like its slathered in jelly: cool, wet slime sliding over your skin.
You lurch out the other side of the doorway with a gasp...and then the sound hits. Moans of pleasure ring to the high ceilings: grunts, mewls, groans of names you’ve never heard as they wring pitched ecstasy from each other. Loki’s smile grows.
“Just a small silencing enchantment.” He shrugs and clicks his fingers. The door slams behind you. A few pairs of eyes flicker in your direction before re-focusing on their work. You can’t blame them – you’re entirely overdressed. Picking your way across the floor, you come to a stop beside him.
This…isn’t what you’d expected. He rests his head back, half-lidded eyes clouded by whatever’s swirling in his goblet.
“You realise it’s not even midday?”
An impish smile lifts Loki’s lips, a flash of tongue nipping over the bottom one. “I am a second son of the crown, famed for hedonism and the sensual pleasures…how else should I fill my days?”
Your eyes rise to the couple fucking on the windowsill. “Could we talk somewhere?”
A frown ghosts his forehead, and Loki reaches for your hand. His eyes have sharpened, and he looks almost sober. “We’re all friends here, it’s just…a release. A club, if you will. We can talk here, unless you’re uncomfortable.”
Your tongue pokes against your cheek. You have no right to ask this, and yet,
“Have you ‘released’ today, then?”
One of Loki’s brows rise, lips rippling in a closed smile. “Yes.”
That jealousy you’d been fighting settles like a stone. Loki’s eyes slide between yours, slivers of sapphire sparking beyond deep pools of black. “Although not with any interference from another,’ he adds huskily. “I’m…saving myself, it seems.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm. Delayed gratification is a powerful lure.”
As the hum leaves his lips, Loki shuffles on the chair: back straightening and the leg hoisted on the armrest shifting. You try not to let your gaze drop to his crotch, but it’s a moth-flame situation. He’s hard, of course. Behind you, someone orgasms.
Heat pools in your lower belly, arousal blossoming like liquid shadow, and you know for a fact if you move – there will be a slip between your thighs. You’ve never been somewhere like this – sex has always been private, quiet.
Loki’s looking at you with something close to innocence. Perhaps it’s the way you know there absolutely no way you can fuck him – no way for him to touch that hot mess gathering between your folds, and no way for you to suckle the head of his cock as he tangles those long fingers in your—
“Did you hear what I said?”
You clear your throat, swallowing. “Sorry, I was…somewhere else.”
“Mmm,” Loki hums again, brushing a finger by his lips to stifle a smile.
He lowers his thigh from the armrest and pats it: once, twice. Like a magnet, you slide onto his lap. Across the room, a woman being fucked against a pillar frowns at you over her partner’s shoulder. An arrogant thrill soaks up your spine while Loki’s nose brushes down your cheek; lips lingering on the curve of your neck, his breath gloriously cool against the heat of your skin.
“What did you want to discuss, little owl? Here, in my den of debauchery.”
His fingers dance up the folds of fabric at your midsection, cupping a breast and beginning to toy at the nipple. It feels so fucking good: too good. He pinches it gently, rolling against his thumb, knowing exactly what he’s doing; you exhale against his cheek, and it makes it almost impossible to whisper, “Fandral.”
The fingers still, and you can feel Loki frowning without even having to look. “What?” he growls.
It’s all you can do not to grind against his thigh. He’s wearing a tight pair of leather trousers, so at least none of the mess between your legs, probably soaking through your dress, will get on his skin. But he might touch me. He pinches your nipple, eyes narrowing. A hiss erupts from your throat, tapering to a moan. “Fandral,” you say on the exhale.
“If it’s not too much trouble, desist from moaning that rube's name in my presence, darling.”
You frown. “He said you’re messing with me; said you don’t have any intention of us doing the Rite together, and that he’ll be the—”
Suddenly you’re airborne, Loki’s strong hands scooping you like a bag of feathers and manoeuvring you to one of the long pillows on the floor.
He looms over you on his hands and knees; one set on either side of your left leg, a wild veil of black hair hanging around his jaw. His lips part, and the impossible muscles of his shoulders shift beneath the drape of that slutty shirt.
“He will not,” Loki says. “Did that cunning little mouse say he was visiting Lagertha for any other reason than to have his doublet mended?” His breath is tinged with the sweetness of primrose wine. “You are my chosen partner; he has no sway in it – and certainly no say in it.”
The gravel of his voice is bass to the continuum of groaning that sings between pillars. Desire scorches your skin, tightening your thighs and twisting your stomach so taut it might snap.
Your gaze shifts fractionally to the side, catching sight of a beautiful man with bronze hair glittering like a copper coin as his cock sinks inside against another man’s ass: again, again - a hand fastening to the back of his lover’s neck. The second man moans: guttural, primal.
“Do you like that?” Loki’s breath licks the shell of your ear, his hands shifting the skirts of your loose dress up your parted legs like water.
The digits slide down your arms, guiding them above your head. You can’t look away: the men are poetry together. The one taking everything the other has to give grips the back of a chair, his knuckles white, his jaw trembling and cock hard at his stomach as the fingers cradling his neck tighten.
If Loki can’t ravish you, if he can’t touch your cunt which aches for his tongue – then you’ll settle for his voice. And the heat radiating from the collar of his shirt. And anyway, you’re pretty sure his voice alone will make you climax in 3…2…1—
“I want to know everything,” Loki says: dark, filthy, and…honest? Your pussy clenches so hard you almost whimper. “You’ve told me about your life, but now I wish to know your desires…your deepest fantasies. I crave that knowledge like an orgasm I cannot sate.”
His husk lingers heavy over any other sound, filling your mind with strange, inadvisable, thoughts of forever.
“What you like,” he hums, “what you want…how I can pleasure you beyond anything you’ve shared with another, and how I can haunt every moment your mind wanders from now until eternity.”
The god’s lips graze your pulse point, and you can feel the thump of blood beating against his skin. “So, I ask again,” he says as the figures fucking in front of you blur, “do you like that?”
A stab of air rips down your throat as you gasp, “Yes.” Norns, right now you’d let him flip you over and sink into your ass in a second.
Without warning, one of Loki’s leather clad thighs presses against your clit. Sparks explode from your centre, tendrils of utter desire rippling across your body like the drag of a lit match. Fear widens your eyes, and amusement dances in his.
“Your arousal cannot touch me through these,” he says coolly, taking his time over every syllable.
“My hands remain here…” Loki’s eyes dart up to his fingers encircling your wrists, and squeezes. “My sword remains sheathed, and my leathers are merely...” He presses the flat of his lower thigh against your clit again, “A tool.”
“That’s cheating,” you say breathlessly. Loki’s lip twitches in a knowing smirk, a half shrug conveying, ‘What did you expect?’
“Don’t you want to play with me?” His eyes narrow, and another lance of need spears through your core. Your lips roll together, stifling a moan as your brows draw tight.
“You’re drunk,” you say. But you don’t believe it. Loki’s pupils are still wide and deep enough to drown in, but it’s not the primrose wine. Unbelievably, it’s you. For now, you decide to let yourself imagine he doesn’t just need you for the Rite; that it could be more – that he could be yours.
The weight of his attention lies heavier in the air than the aroma of sex, and his thigh grinds against your pussy; catching the spot above your clit with each, gentle tug.
“Fuck…Loki,” you whisper, back arching off the cushion. His chin rises, smouldering beneath half-lidded eyes.
“Talk to me,” he breathes. You want to dig the heel of your palm against his solid cock bound beneath the crotch of his leathers. You want to feel his animal god-lust pulsing under your hand - more fuel for the violently dirty fantasies you’ll create in your head later as you writhe beneath the sheets alone.
Loki tuts, squeezing your wrists again. You offer a weak, breathy struggle. “No, little owl. Not today, not yet. I want to be destructively engorged with the sight of you…denied what I want while I hear you come undone.”
“Loki,” you whine again, face hot and a hum growing in your ears. This is crazy. And yet…
Loki’s thigh moves in wicked waves against your clit; his eyes burning into yours, those thin lips parted and flushed, and ragged exhales scraping from his throat like he’s sinking inside your cunt. “Talk to me,” he says again, but this time, it’s a beg.
A silky voice sounds from behind his broad shoulders, accompanied by an immaculately shaped set of nails sweeping across his collarbone. The woman who was glaring earlier. She lowers to his ear. “Can I offer you relief, my prince? Since this one cannot?”
It’s hushed, but you were meant to hear it.
Loki doesn’t even look at her; his fingers stay curled around your wrists. “No,” he says through gritted teeth.
She slinks away and the flames licking up your belly burn brighter. The meat of his thigh muscle stills, and the ache of its absence makes you frott against his knee.
“Talk to me,” he commands with an air of finality, chin lowering. “Tell me what you like, what you want.” Even if he let go of your arms, that stare would pin you in place. Every inch the prince; every inch the god – even in the middle of a daylight orgy.
“I want your mouth on me,” you whisper; squirming beneath his mischievous smirk. “I want it…slow, then heavier…then slower.”
“Slow?” Loki hums, titling his head. That tongue darts over his lips.
“And firm, but…soft. Wet. And loud…I want to hear you taste me.”
Gods’ bones, has anyone ever been this ineloquent? But Loki doesn’t seem to mind. His face tells you he knows exactly what you mean; exactly how you like it. He’s imagining it, just as you are.
Your eyes dart to his crotch and the thick outline of his manhood strains against heavy creases. His hips shift, a small hiss filling the air between you.
“What else?” he asks in a breathless voice that’s so unlike him. You bite your lip as his stare falls down your chest - flimsy drapes of silk threatening to expose your breasts. You wonder if he’ll let go of your wrists. And if he can control himself if he does.
“And I want your cock, too…obviously.”
“Obviously…” he goads with the spectre of a smile.
The god leans forward, nudging the silk aside with his nose and capturing a nipple with a firm suck. Loki’s thigh begins to shift against your pussy again, and a strangled moan rattles in your throat. The groans of the men fucking a few meters away reach crescendo and they tumble over the edge in a sweaty, groaning slip of sex.
“I want you everywhere,” you gasp, losing any shred of remaining modesty with the smear of your heat against his leathers. “My cunt, my mouth, my ass—”
“—Like them?” he stammers, thick brows drawn together.
“—Like them. I want you so deep inside me I forget my own name, want your skin smacking my shoulders, want you pulling me onto your cock as you fuck me like I’m in heat and you can’t control it—”
“—More,” Loki gasps, and your eyes fly open. His face is twisted with furious need, lines deep in his forehead, strands of onyx hair buffeting at his lips. His thigh slips against your slit – it’s absolutely soaked, and his hands tremble where he’s holding you in place.
The words that shape your lips are calculated in their depravity: aimed to kill. “I want your cum dripping between my thighs; dripping between my breasts…” At that, Loki groans. “I’ll lick it off myself…before I suck you clean, and swallow everything you have left…my prince.”
Loki’s jaw slackens like the orgasm shattering him is an unseen foe with a knife to his neck. The jolt in his hips sends the thick thigh driving against your clit and you crumble right alongside him with a garbled cry of his name.
He falls on top of you in a mess of ferocious need; lips working, breath gasping from your lungs and the beat of his heart strong against your ribs. But still, his hands don’t leave your wrists.
“You are a wonder,” he breathes, galaxies swimming in his pleasure-drunk stare. And for a moment, you forget that you’re a means to an end; that after the Rite you’ll go back to being a nobody - and you believe him.
Loki barely has his wits back when someone clears their throat at the door. “Your brother - Prince Loki.”
“My what?”
“Your brother, the crown prince. He’s outside.”
“Nine hels. What does he want?”
Loki didn’t wait for the man to respond – he’d save the wretch that particular misery, and Loki’s misery at having to listen to the bluster of his explanation. He dips to your cheek, drawing his nose down the line of your cheekbone, inhaling against your sweat-damp skin.
“I’ll return shortly,” he whispers. And below him, you shiver. A thrill spreads in sharp veins under his flesh.
Loki strides past the guard looking at the ceiling while his cheeks flush an alarming shade of scarlet – and the door shuts quickly behind them. Thor stands with his arms folded, one ill-groomed eyebrow rising as he says, “Are the reports true? That your Rite partner is in there?”
Loki can’t contain the eye-roll. “If you think I’m so foolish as to compromise myself at the eleventh hour before my ascension to the royal line; then truly there is no hope for you, brother. And she has a name, you know.”
Thor’s gaze drops sceptically to his thigh. “What’s that?” He gestures to the glistening slick down one of the leather-clad quad muscles. Norns.
“It’s not breaking the rules, I checked.”
With a flick of his fingers, the slick evaporates. And even though he’s sure (almost, sure), Loki rubs his fingertips together. Nothing. He breathes a secret sigh of relief. It would just be like Thor to ruin everything without actually intending to.
“Of course you did, Loki. How studious of you.”
“Can you spell that?” He snorts. “Besides, your partner was Lady Sif – you had centuries to cultivate the bond. And father and mother were partners…it’s a completely different situation. I must do what I must within the confines of the ceremonial rules.”
“And whose fault is that, Loki? You could’ve had your pick of partners had you not rutted through them in a jamboree of wine and carnal gluttony.”
Loki’s lip twitches, and he sucks the bottom one between his teeth. “I couldn’t have selected better if I’d had the centuries to spare, actually. Not all of us need hundreds of years to woo someone.”
The bemused crunch of Thor’s brow makes a flutter of satisfaction blossom in his chest. “I assure you, brother – all aspects of the Rite of Successional Pleasure will be fulfilled, I’m sure of it.”
Thor's eyes narrow. “She’s been told of the second requirement?”
“No, but I believe doing so will make it unnecessarily…challenging. She doesn’t need to know, she only needs to feel.”
“You realise her feelings for you must come willingly. Un-influenced by magic?”
Loki glares, spine stiffening. “I shan't need to use my powers to wring pleasure from her body, why should I require it of her heart? Is that so hard to believe?”
“In such a short amount of time? Yes, brother. I’ve known you over a millennia, and most days I still don’t care for you.”
Loki’s fist flexes at his side as Thor, regrettably, continues. “The Rite is an expression of our benevolence to bestow pleasure on another freely, but it is also a test of our means to win their affections; their loyalty.”
“And I will not fail,” he snaps. He and Thor stare at each other, unblinking, until his brother breaks first with a long, whittling sigh.
“I hope you’re right, brother,” he says. “And be more careful, it would be unfortunate if you were to be undone by your own…passions, as usual.”
Heat prickles beneath Loki’s skin. “What would you know of my passions?
Thor’s cape flutters as he turns, before glancing over his shoulder: ignoring him. “As much as it pains me, choosing Fandral as your partner for the Rite may be the wiser choice…it’s not too late. You know he already harbours those feelings for you – the deep ones the ritual requires. If there is any doubt, brother—”
“—There is no doubt,” Loki lies, fingernails digging in to the soft flesh of his palm. “I still have two moons until the ceremony– wars have been won in less.”
He keeps his expression flat as Thor’s eyes soften. “If only love was as simple as war, brother,” he says in one of those rare displays of wisdom that make Loki want to punch him in the face. “She’s not one of us. I would say try not to break her heart, but it’s inevitable, is it not.”
It isn’t a question.
Loki swallows as his brother’s footsteps fade, glancing back to the golden door. He waves his hand, releasing the enchantment muffling the guard’s ears.
“Get her out of there,” he murmurs. “Escort her, offer my apologies; instruct her to change, and meet me in the gardens at sunrise.”
"My prince, she will ask—"
"—Sunrise," he snaps. A pain throbs behind his eyes.
The guard nods, and Loki tries to ignore the pulse of his heartbeat in his throat, and the unfamiliar itch of guilt spreading with every echoing thud of his boots around Asgard’s gilded halls.
The Masterlist for The Rite is HERE
Next Chapter: Wednesday July 17
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