She/Her|18+ Blog|MDNI! Faithfully writing for Loki Laufeyson, whether itâs smut, fluff, or angst Requests are currently open! Donât be shy, say hi!
Need to kiss Lokiâs abs NOW. Hahaha imagine him laying back or him sat down while reading a book Ok whatever either way heâs really immersed in this book and is paying no mind to you. So.. you get bored and slightly lift up the bottom of his shirt. Which in response, he briefly gives you a little look of confusion. But heâs still silent and focused on anything but you. Then you lean in closer to him and start gently kissing his abs and you can feel his muscles tense up when you kiss him there Ok nvm
Or like what if he encourages it and keeps his hand on the back of your head sort of petting you absentmindedly while heâs still reading and while youâre still kissing his abs but then after a little bit he gets a little eager and lowers your hea Nvm
Going insane if I elaborate more itâs not going to be RIGHT đđđđđ
âomg youâre so creative. how do you get your ideasâ i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it
A link to my Masterlist is HERE
Summary: Loki's typical antics at a party hit different. (w/c 2.5k)
Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Loki x Female reader. Snippy Loki/ enemies to lovers. Mild jealousy. Mild angst.
The crowd blurred as you wobbled on your heels towards the bar, trying to look casual. Rogers, Natasha, Clintâall of them with their heads thrown back at some perfectly timed joke while music thumped in your ears.
Loki leant against the polished marble counterâthe soft amber bulbs around the mirror making his watchful eyes shine; immaculately tousled hair drifting down his shoulders.
He lifted a martini to his lips and sipped gently, the smoulder fixed on you.
One elbow rested on the bar, his ankles crossed, his body impossibly long and lean and wrapped in an expensive suit that was just the right side of tight. No tie tonight, just an open collar with a triangle of milky skin that you wanted to graze your teeth against as his eyes rolled back and a gurgle of your name choked from his throatâ
Donât talk to him. Donât embarrass yourself. Donât look at him; thatâs what he wants. But your heart rattled faster as his cologne prickled deep inside your nostrils: warm, spiced, filthy.
âYou look particularly agreeable tonight, Agent,â Loki said as you propped your elbows on the bar, eyeing your cleavage carefully in the mirror. The godâs stare traced your profile as intricately as though it were his fingers. âDid you do something with your hair? Wash it, perhaps?â
âYouâre one to talk, Agent,â you said, tongue lingering on the T.
Out of the corner of your eye, the god stiffened. He hated all that Agent stuff. Resented it. Except when he was curling the word around his own tongue, ready to spit in your directing with his dumb, mind-numbingly sexy voiceâ
âNevertheless,â he said, strained, âthat colour suits you.â
âBlack?â
âMmm.â
âEveryone suits black.â
Loki chuckled softly, sliding the base of his martini glass closer across the bar. His body followed. âNot so, Agent. In fact, my brother looks particularly ghastly. Deceased, in fact. You look ratherâŚâ
âYes?â
Your breath hitched as Loki bent ever-so-slightly to your ear, heat skating down your cheek. âHot,â he whispered, making one syllable stretch to two.
A tingle rushed over your body. You turned fractionally just as the shit-eating, devastatingly attractive smirk spread across Lokiâs lips. The one Stark used in the ad reels. The one that the public loved; and the one that you loathedâeven if you did have a screenshot of it on your phone for masturbation purposes. Needs must. He might be a dickhead, but you had eyes.
âWhat do you want, Loki?â
He pressed a hand to his chest, wounded. âWant? Darling, you came to me.â
âI came for a drinkâyou were in the way. Itâs the only way to numb you out.â
His jaw dropped a touch, affronted, but those eyes sparkled. Crystal sang as he swirled the fancy glass against marble and leant back, the buttons of his shirt straining as he let out a small, harassed sigh. âYou really must try one of these, theyâre quite terrible.â
The tightness in your chest loosened. âThe Starktini?â
âThe Starktini,â he confirmed sombrely. âSherry instead of vermouth, can you believe it? What is he thinking. All the money in the realm, and no class.â
He took another sip, draining the glass, observing you through narrowed eyes.
âAnother one, Mr Laufeyson?â
Fresh lipstick, ruffled hair, apron tied too tight, shirt unbuttoned to the tip of fancy lingerie. You rolled your eyes as Loki swivelled to face the waitress. âPlease,â he said, low and unbearably smooth. âAnd one for my friend here, too. Particularly dirty, if you donât mind.â
âOf course Sir; I know the way you like it,â she said huskily, sliding her eyes to yours. You cocked an eyebrow as she sashayed to the liquor bottles further down the bar.
âParticularly dirty?â you hissed. âAre you kidding me?â
âAre you jealous?â
Anger scorched up your spine. How dare heâstanding there with his stupid, devastating cheekbones and muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he plucked the stem of a fresh glass from the waitressâs hand. Your eyes flickered to a small piece of paper stuck to the bottom, several looping numbers visible. Loki winked lightly at her as she moved to a pissed off looking Barton, peeling the paper off.
âIâll leave the two of you toâŚâ You gestured in the air.
Loki straightened, swallowing hastily. He raised a finger, his brows rising. But you were already several steps deep into the crowd, pushing past a tipsy Rogers dancing the Macarena to a Scissor Sisters song. The bodice of your dress felt unbearably tight, party smoke clinging to the back of your throat like ash and making your eyes sting. A hand cupped your bicep.
âYou alright?â Wanda dipped, catching your eyes. You waved a hand, plastering on a smile.
âFine. Iâm fine, just Loki being aââ
âA delight, Iâm sure,â Loki drawled. Even over the music, his voice was clear as glass. Wandaâs face scrunched, her gaze shifting over your shoulder. You whipped around, hoping your tits hadnât shifted from the impeccable cleavage youâd assembled earlier.
âLet me guess, this is the part of the dancefloor you want? Planning on standing here yourself, glowering at everyone having fun?â
Loki frowned, and for a moment, just one, you felt a sharp stab of guilt. He placed the martini glass on a small, round table to his left.
âActually,â he said, unbuttoning a cuff and folding it up to the elbow. âI was going to ask if you wanted to dance.â
Behind you, Wanda gasped.
Loki Laufeyson did not dance. And certainly not with you.
There were many things you could say at this moment, do, in this moment while Loki Laufeyson folded the second sleeve up his muscled forearm up with skilful ease. Tell him to fuck off, give him the middle finger, laugh at him before he could laugh at you. Seconds shifted as you waited for the familiar smirk, but it didnât come. He extended his hand.
Lokiâs chin lowered, his eyes glimmering in light refracted from the disco ball, the hand cupped outward unmoving. And so, you took it.
Wanda gasped again.
Lokiâs thumb slid up your palm, pressing into the soft skin before guiding you gently across the dancefloor. Bodies moved, the room blurred for the second time that evening, but this time, a flutter rose in your belly as Loki turned and pulled you flush to his chest. Your cheek brushed his, hands knotted at his shoulder as the opening beats of Rosenfeld thumped through the speakers.
Eyes sliding to Lokiâs, you tried to stifle the urge to suck against his neck; absorb the deep scent of him that wafted from beneath his collar.
He began to sway. And then, his lips brushed your ear. âMove, Agent,â he said, deep and utterly filthy.
Lokiâs knuckles trailed down your spine, palm settling on your lower back and shifting in time with the grind of your hips. His hair grazed against your cheek as your bodies slid together, the satin of your dress water against his shirt.
The world slid beneath you feet as Loki pushed you outwards, spinning on your heels, stars bursting in your mind. He pulled you to his chest with a soft thump and the muscle beneath your breasts shook under his chuckle.
âI thought you couldn't danceââ
âI can do anything, Agent,â he murmured, hands resting on your hips. His eyes narrowed lightly. âAnything.â
You snorted, blowing a strand of his hair with it. It floated back, sticking to your mouth. Lokiâs fingers slipped between you, pinching it away. His thumb grazed over the plump of your lower lip. âDo you believe me?â
It struck you in this moment how inconceivable it was that Loki was grinding against your stomach; that you were shifting in time with it, your hips swaying against the hard expanse of his hips. That you hadnât punched him in the face yet.
âI believe that youâre full of shit? Does that count?â
You half-hoped he couldnât hear you, but the twitch of Lokiâs lips proved he did. God, you wanted to slam your pussy down on the meat of the thigh sliding against your leg. You wanted to yank his hair down and kiss him right on his poisonous mouth as he pushed his femur against your clit; edging you into a shuddering mess hanging in his arms like a doll. A warm flush slid between your legs.
Loki spun to the side, and the world upended. Heâd swept you into a dip, his face inches from yours, and his eyes rising slowly from your lips to your eyes. Somewhere, Rogers whooped.
And there it wasâŚthe shit eating smirk.
You snapped to reality, pushing against Lokiâs shoulder. He brought you upright with a deep crease slicing through his forehead and mumbled something as you pushed through the crowd, Do It For Me ringing in your ears.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
You grabbed a Starktini from the bar, necking it and ignoring Bartonâs yelling before making your way to the fire exit. The balcony was too crowded.
Cold air hit like a slap, rippling over your bare shoulders and up the flounce of skirt. Your fingers curled against the fire escape, forehead resting against your hands. Fuck. Youâd let him get under your skin. Youâd promised it wouldnât happen again.
âI lied.â
Your ankle gave way, heel snapping through the grate and sending you wavering to the guard rail. Suddenly Lokiâs arms were around you, but you flapped him away. âPiss off, Loki,â you gasped, gripping the rail. âIâm fine. JesusâŚyou scared the shit out of me.â
The angles of Lokiâs face were illuminated in moonlight: brows lowered; mouth drawn tight. You sighed. âWhat do you want?â
âI lied,â he said again. Now you remembered.
âWell, whatâs new? Itâs your thing.â
He frowned.
âWell, it is,â you said, exasperated.
âNever with you.â
His eyes were a storm of wretched midnights, but his jaw trembled. You noted the strain of his shirt buttons, the creases forming with each deep, measured breath. A tremor passed through his features as he said. âBefore, when I said I could do anythingâI lied.â
âOh?â
âI couldnât hold on to you.â
Your heart dropped somewhere around your knees. âWell, yeah, I guess. It was about more than just the dancing though, you know that, right?â
âMmm.â
In the time it took to look up, Loki was standing in front of you; the heat from his chest radiating the space between your bodies. He licked his lips, and they shaped words you never thought youâd hear. âIs it too late for us?â he asked softly.
âLokiâŚâ
âA month is a long time to spend with only oneâs thoughts for company.â
âHardly. You were on a mission with Barton and Lang.â
âMentally alone, if not physically. You should hear the things they consider stimulating conversation. Do you know what a blumpkin entails?â
He waited, a shadow flitting across his face. âBecause I do.â
You bit your lip, chest shaking with ill-advised laughter, and when you looked up, Lokiâs smile was waiting. The real one. And then, your throat tightened. âYou took the waitressâs number.â
âDid I?â Lokiâs voice went up an octave. âHow strange,â he mused as a long finger tapped at his chin. âI distinctly remember not taking her number. In fact, I believe it might still be on the bar. Perhaps Lang will find itâperhaps heâll finally experience the blumpkin he seeks.â
âYou winked at her.â
Something shifted inside you as the words shaped your tongue; thin threads of hope winding snug around your insides, the lie of your indifference circling like liquid down a drain. Loki shrugged lightly.
âI had to give her something. What was I to do? The woman was clearly smittenâand Iâm nothing if not benevolent.â
You rolled your eyes again.
âDonâtâŚâ he said, stepping closer.
One arm rose against the wall behind you, his skin silver in moonlight. âYou know how that drives me to the brink of sanity.â
âMaybe thatâs what I want.â
âIs it?â His eyes flashed, gaze dropping to your lips. âWell, itâs working.â
Your chest ached with the effort of holding in the need to hyperventilate. This was everything youâd wanted as you lay in bed alone, everything you hadnât dared hope for. That he would fight for you. And yetâŚWith Loki, there was always an âAnd yetâ.
But tonight, you didnât want to think about that. Not yet.
Like a dream, you fingered the open collar of Lokiâs shirt, grazing a nail across the exposed skin. He shivered.
âDarling,â he whispered, and then, your lips were on his. One kiss slipped into the next like words, the groans deep in his throat and the fingers winding in your hair like blazing starlight.
âUp, up,â you gasped between kisses.
Loki obliged, large hands dipping to your thighs and hoisting you against the polished outer walls of Stark Tower with a squeak. He fumbled with the line of your underwear, a mumbled fuck it preceding the warm fizz of his magic against your skin.
Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his suit trousers, delving for the unbearably hard cock pressing against your cunt. Every vein, every velvet ridge, every inch that made him whimper when you traced it with your tongue.
Lokiâs breath was heavy, misting against your cheek as he breached with a broken chant of your name. Your head fell back against the wall, his mouth working down the valley of your throat as his hips rolled, filling you.
âLoki, godâŚyes,â you panted to the darkened sky.
He mumbled something unintelligible against your skin as your fingers twisted in his hair and the part of yourself that hoped this could be real burned brighter. There was nothing but hereânothing but the press of his flat stomach, the feel of his fingertips curling into your thighs and the seal of his cock unwinding your doubts with every thrust.
âGods, I never meant toââ
You silenced him with a kiss, delving into him with insatiable hunger. I never meant to push you away. I never meant to break your heart. It could wait. Orgasm sparked deep in your belly, rippling like a lit match from gasoline. Your legs tightened around his hips, forcing his cock deeper with an obscene squelch.
âFaen, kvinne,â Loki grunted, one palm flying to the wall behind you and squeaking down metal.
He bucked up, bottoming out a final, shattering time.
Climax ripped through your body like a knife through leather, arms flying around his neck and pulling him close. His belt buckle was ice against your heated thighs, the grind of his hips flattening you to the wall. The godâs groans grew tight; urgent, something new stringing along his back muscles shifting under the drag of your fingernails.
âForgive me,â he sighed. You wondered if heâd stop himself tumbling over the edge if you didnât. But the time for lies was over.
âI forgive you,â you whispered, sucking his earlobe between your teeth. Lokiâs guttural groan as he filled you with his cum was the world sliding beneath your feet, breaking apart and starting anew.
That beautiful 6'2 troubled norse god with gorgeous long black hair and pretty blue eyes and an amazing sense of style and a mischievous grin and the most perfect bone structure youâve ever seen will save you
Yes Iâve probably posted these pictures about a thousand times already but evidently for a good reason
"How do you write such realistic dialogue-" I TALK TO MYSELF. I TALK TO MYSELF AND I PRETEND I AM THE ONE SAYING THE LINE. LIKE SANITY IS SLOWLY SLIPPING FROM BETWEEN MY FINGERS WITH EVERY MEASLY WORD THEY TYPE OUT. THAT IS HOW.
