When Playing with Fire, You’re Bound to Get Burned (Loki X Reader)
Summary: You and Loki have begun to grow close over the last week or so, Thor and Steven are still gone and it’s been you and him in the tight quarters of the main library, reading together on the couches with palpable tension and desire between the two of you that both of you are oblivious to. But what will happen when the two of you decide to play a little game?
Author’s Note: I’ve fallen in love with this series, I just can’t help myself from updating, even when it’s this late at night. Inspiration strikes at the most inopportune times, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, I hope you guys love it cause I LOVE writing this :) stay tuned for the next few parts and as always: ENJOY! (I’M SORRY IT’S SO SHORT!) (AND IT’S SO LATE SO I’M TIRED)
Tags: @orighami @lokislittlefangirl @amor67figment-love @fire-in-her-veinz
Warning: Naughty Loki ;), flirting FLIRTING FLIRTING, so many sexual references, I’m not even sorry, a little angst cause I savor drama, and major fluffity fluff
You’ve laid down across Loki’s lap, your head resting on his long legs, the Great Gatsby tucked between your fingers, clutching it to your chest when you get to your favorite part of the novel. Loki watches you with a softness in his alluring green and blue eyes, you can never make up your mind of which color they are, so you’ve decided to say both, never knowing which one fits him best.
“What are you thinking about, love?” he leans back against the couch cushion, lifting his eyes from his book to chance a glance at you and your beautiful smile.
“Mm,” you hum happily, looking at him from where you lay with a big, bright grin. “I love this quote from the book.”
“You sound so passionate when you talk about literature, darling, your face is lighting up,” he notices with a warm expression. “Do you write?”
“When I was younger I would,” you reminisce, sighing contently, smiling at the far off memories playing through your mind. “I had this little spot... in my backyard, under my favorite tree, a willow tree, and I would sit there...” you pause to laugh lightly. “And just bring out my journal, scribbling outlandish fairy tales about mythical creatures and true love. I barely even knew what love was at that age... too bad all of it was destroyed in the fire, I bet reading it would have been hilarious,” you laugh, but it comes out sadder than you intended.
His embrace on you tightens when he sees your frown, “Don’t discount yourself, love,” he says, an amused tone in his words despite his reassurance. “Who knows, young (y/n) could have been the next Hemingway...”
“Oh, God no, comparing me to him is an insult to his craft, I’m nowhere near as talented,” you shake your head with a smile. “Besides, I haven’t written in so long.”
He shakes his head, wondering how someone as astonishing as you could think so little of yourself, “Writing, my dear, is like riding a bike, once you learn, you never forget how to do it, and with practice, you get better and better,” he explains, setting his book down next to him on the small table beside you two.
“Read the quote to me, kitten,” he whispers, shifting you so that he’s laying down and your laying with the back of your head against his hard, surprisingly muscular chest. His hands found your hair, playing with it lazily, desperately needing to touch you in anyway he can, even if it’s not the way he truly wants.
You raise your eyebrows, “Are you sure?” you ask him, turning to look him in the eye, not finding any doubts or hesitance in them. Or he’s just very good at hiding it. “I don’t want to bore you.”
“(Y/N)...” he whispers, rolling his eyes with a graciously soft smile, catching you off guard. “The next time you say something about yourself that is other than only good things, I will knock you off this couch.”
“You wouldn’t,” you scoff.
“Don’t you know who you’re talking to, love? I am the god of tricks, I can do far worse if so is requested or deserved,” he says with a slight raise of his brow, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Requested?” you can’t help but grin at the insinuation. “Perhaps I should begin reading before I take you up on that offer.”
Loki shifts beneath you, clenching his jaw, holding himself tightly as unholy thoughts fill his mind again, all of which you star in. He couldn’t possibly imagine you ever sharing his affections for you, he only thinks your harmless flirting is just apart of your friendly banter, not that you care for him as well. In his mind, he’s still the monster people think of him as, not how you really see him. After getting to know him, you now see him as kind, warm, gentle, if not mischievous and an expert at manipulation and smirking, always winking slyly from across the room at you.
You might just say you are slowly falling for him.
He laughs nervously, “Just read, darling.”
“Alright, fine,” you roll your eyes, opening the book back up to the spot you’re looking for, skimming your finger over the printed words. You smile once you find it, “’There I was, way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute, and all of a sudden I didn’t care,’” you whisper, your sweet, velvet like voice nearly lulling Loki to sleep.
Loki wraps his arms around you, shaking his head, “How tragic.”
“Tragic?” you ask. “It’s beautiful, not tragic. Shakespeare is tragic. When I read this, all I hear is new beginnings and accepting love from not only others but alsop herself.”
“What I hear is someone falling in love with someone who’s party obsessed, arrogant, foolish, and only ends up being murdered in the end, it’s tragic. She’s fallen for the wrong person, down the wrong path, and it only ends in heartbreak and disaster.”
You spin yourself around, laying face up on him now, resting your chin against his chest, “You’re only seeing half the picture here, not what the author wants you to see, now that you have to look for. Gatsby only throws these parties in an attempt to get Daisy’s attention and have her attend them, he’s parading all the wrong things, but that’s only because he’s human and he’s used to the people in his lives only be attracted to his wealth, not him. She’s the first that defies that,” you lay out for him, hand gestures and all. “I think it’s beautiful.”
Loki smiles, tongue in cheek, an action that cause heat to pool into the pit of your stomach and a blush in your cheeks, “I’ve always prided myself in being insightful and intelligent, but it seems I’ve been beaten for the title.”
“You’ve met your match, Loki Lafeuyson,” you return his kind smile, tucking your hands beneath your chin, fluttering your lashes teasingly.
“Indeed I have,” he agrees, realizing now just how far he’s fallen.
“So what do we do now?” you ask him, his fingers tracing light circles into your thin, t-shirt clad back.
He runs his hand closer to where the clasp of your bra lays, idly fiddling with the lace of your brassiere, meeting your eyes for only a moment. A smirk filled with enough sin to lead anyone astray graces his delightfully pink lips, your breath catching at the sight of it.
He takes notice of this and his smirk only widens, a hand sliding down to grip your waist, eliciting a small whimper from you, “Mm, kitten, the noises you make when I touch you are absolutely sinful...”
“Loki...” you warn him, afraid of what you’ll start if he continues, lips curling when his hand slips beneath your shirt, his cool hands contrasting against your red hot skin.
“Darling...” he purrs and just his voice alone is enough to almost send you over the edge, to the point of no return. He meets your eyes for a moment, as if asking for permission for this little game the two of you are about to play, you nod before thinking better of it, heat creeping up the back of your neck at his impish smile.
He reaches your back and expertly, yet agonizingly slow, unclasps the hook and slips your bra out from underneath your shirt, tossing it onto the floor.
“That was impressive,” you say and it’s your turn to smile with your tongue in your cheek, feeling suddenly exposed in front of him even with a shirt on. But the two of you constantly undress each other with your eyes.
“Oh, love, you haven’t seen nothing yet,” he whispers in the quiet room, flipping the two of you over so he’s on top of you, one hand holding himself above you, positioned in between your legs.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Loki,” you whisper coolly, chest heaving with each inhale and exhale of breath.
“The only way I know how,” he winks, scanning your body with darkened eyes, licking his bottom lip, watching you squirm beneath him. “What are you doing to me, kitten?”
“I’m only returning the favor,” you smile, rolling your hips against his, satisfied when you see the way he grits his teeth and closes his eyes from just your touch.
“Naughty, naughty girl,” he purrs, shaking his head with a low chuckle.
“I’ve learned from the best,” you respond smugly.
“You certainly have,” he muses, flashing another criminal smile.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Loki,” you tell him, one hand reaching up to cup the side of his face.
He leans into your touch, kissing the inside of your palm sweetly, “I’m not the one that did, darling.”
“You’re saying I did?” you laugh. “By slapping you?”
“I’m not ashamed to admit I was hooked from the beginning, my pet,” he smiles, dipping down to place tender kisses against the soft skin of your neck, making you gasp at the sensation of his cold lips on your body. “I’m enchanted by you, in all ways possible.”
“It seems the spell I cast on you has worked, it was my plan all along,” you tease him with a small laugh, inhaling sharply once more when he begins to nip and suck and bite on the hollow of your collarbone. That would surely leave a mark in the coming days. You know that’s what he wants, to mark you as his, his territory. The thought excited you. Being his. You can’t believe how good he is at this, so easily making you beg for more and grovel at his feet.
“I really hope your joking, darling,” he teases back. “But I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you weren’t.”
You breathe out a laugh. “I guess you’ll never know then,” you raise an eyebrow when he breaks away to look at you. His striking eyes wash over you, paired with another gorgeous smirk. Those eyes fall on your lips, and he darts his tongue out to wet his own.
“Are you going to kiss me, Loki?” you ask softly, taking his face in your hands again, drawing small circles with your thumb on his cheek.
“I want to, believe me. Desperately,” he says, breath catching when you meet his eyes, he fumbles for the right words. “But... are you sure?” he breaks his gaze away from your slightly parted lips, willing himself to look elsewhere. “Because-”
“Loki...” you coo softly, playing with the tips of his marvelous, raven hair, looking him in the eye, both of you breathing harshly, so close your noses bump into each other and lips brush, heart beating loud in your own chest. Not even kissing, yet electricity shoots through both of you, your eyes fluttering closed from the pleasure. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Because I-”
“Oh, my...” a smug, familiar voice says in the doorway, catching both of your attentions, heads snapping in their direction.
Tony. Fucking. Stark. And the rest of the Avengers. All in your home and all at once. Watching and ruining a moment between you and Loki.
“Reindeer games, and our sweet, sweet (y/n),” Tony says, looking to Natasha who’s smirking like an idiot. Steve’s eyes widen he sees the discarded bra on the floor, which makes you blush every shade of scarlet. Tony shakes his head like a disappointed father would when scolding his child. “I never thought I’d see the day...”
They’re all looking at the two of you, neither of you moving, too frozen from shock at the sight of them all. Bucky looks between the two of you and shakes his head, “I think this is the part when one of you starts explaining what the hell is going on.”
