hiiii uhhhh can I request one where both loki and reader are, well, “frustrated”, if you know what I mean, but reader’s got a lot of work to finish up and she’s trying her best to focus. But loki’s trying everything to get her attention so naturally she gives in and they start makin out on, like, the damn desk. sorry if this is weird ajsksjdjd I love you and your writing btw<3
omL this ain’t weird at all i am in love with this request !!!
lots of implied smut and making out heh
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You want to go home. Like, really bad.
You want to go home, drag Loki into a too-long hot shower, maybe (definitely) ride him senseless, fall asleep in his arms, and forget about this entire awful, nightmare of a day.
Sounds heavenly…
But you’ve still got a good two hours to go before you can clock out. You owe it to Tony to stay your full shift, he already lets you dictate your own hours and was the one who gave you this job, so you owe him one solid.
With that in mind, you open your tired eyes again and go back to staring at the laptop screen. Letters have gone fuzzy from staring at this old script for so long—it’s something alien, clearly not from earth or anywhere else you know of, much like most items that cross your desk. One of the “perks” of being good at your job, right?
Look, Tony, tell your government people that if you don’t recognise this strange language by now, it won’t help to be forced to stare at it for days on end.
You’ve lost focus again in seconds, mind drifting off to what Loki might be doing right about now. Probably something active, dangerous, fun, surrounded by people instead of alone in an office…
“I WILL NOT HESITATE TO DISMEMBER YOU, BROTHER OF MINE OR NOT—”
The door to your little office crashes open. Aha—there’s Loki.
He’s dripping sweat and raging, screaming at his brother who’s just laughing and following him down the hall.
“Come now, brother, it was all in good fun—”
Loki slams the door in Thor’s face.
“Beating your brother while he’s distracted and vulnerable,” he seethes, turning to glare at you, chest heaving, “is not good fun.”
You just raise a tired eyebrow, still confused but glad to see him nonetheless, and you wave a hand at the chairs in front of your desk. “What’s your deal?”
“My brother is a buffoon made of muscle,” he says simply, flopping into a chair and wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. “And I missed your much more mature and bearable company.”
“Funny.” You go back to your work with a sigh—there’s no time for missing people with all you have left to do. “I was just thinking about you, too.”
“And what kind of…thoughts might those have been, hm?”
Sure…he missed your company…
“Nothing too exciting,” you sigh again, not bothering to look up at the smirk you know is there. “Just what we’re going to do when we get home.”
His eyes light up and you laugh when he leans forward. “Tell me, darling, what do you want to do when we get home?”
“…you.”
The god sits back in his chair with a smug grin, lifting his legs to cross his ankles on top of your desk. “I like where this is going.”
With a groan you start pushing his feet off your desk while Loki laughs, watching you struggle for a moment before twitching a foot to knock over a cup full of pens and pencils. The pens spill across your desk and roll onto the floor.
“Loki! What the hell?!”
“Whoops,” he purrs, pulling himself to his feet and walking around to your side of the desk. “How clumsy of me.”
He kneels next to your chair and starts picking up the spilled pens as you shake your head and return to your work. Your focus stays on the task at hand until—“LOKI!!”
He’s nipped at your leg with his teeth, a cool hand wrapped around your calf as icy lips trail up towards your knee. At your exclamation he holds your leg tighter and grins up at you, the glint in his eye in every way concerning.
“I’m in dire need of a distraction, dearest, or I might go back to the training room and hurt someone,” he sighs, making himself comfortable on the floor with his back leaning against your desk. “Would you happen to have any ideas?”
“G-go annoy someone else?” His hand slowly tracing up and down your leg is colder than usual, bringing a chill across your skin as you shudder under his touch.
“Mm, no, I don’t like that suggestion,” he hums and suddenly his lips are just above your knee, only for a split second to make you drop your pencil with a start.
“Loki! I’m at work!”
He clearly couldn’t care less.
Still rubbing your leg with a firm grip, he smiles up at you from his spot on the floor like some attention-hungry cat. “My darling, you can’t possibly tell me you’ve never wanted this.”
Throwing your pencil down with a groan, you drop your head to your hands. Probably easier to give him the attention he wants and just get him out of here, right?
“Wanted what, exactly?”
He’s back to licking your leg, lifting your knee to rest over his shoulder as he rubs you down. “To be thoroughly taken in a place of work. Would certainly liven up this dreary place…”
“Oh yeah,” you respond sarcastically, “a life goal, how’d you know? Definitely something to check off the bucket list.”
“I find your sarcasm tantalising,” he purrs and walks two fingers up your thigh, flicking the hem of your dress out of the way. “It only makes me want to bend you over this desk and make you scream—”
“Oh my god, why are you so horny all the time??”
He shrugs, that awful smirk plastered on his face peering up at you. “It’s your own fault, you know. If you weren’t so temptingly irresistible, maybe I could better…how do you say it? Keep it in my pants?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever once kept it in your pants, sunshine.”
He kisses your leg again, cold fingers wound around your ankle. “Your fault, my dear.”
“It is not my fault that you have approximately a thimble’s-worth of self control—”
The phone rings, interrupting your tangent, and your heart drops—sometimes opportunities just fall right into Loki’s lap, only encouraging him to be more…you know, him.
Your terrified gaze shoots to Loki, whose grin only widens and you swear you can see his eyes darken.
“Loki, don’t you dare—”
“Answer it,” he hums, running a hand up the side of your thigh. “It’s your job, darling, you have to take this call.”
You lean down and shove a threatening finger right in his face. “Hands where I can see them.”
He slowly raises his hands in surrender, wiggling his fingers and quirking an eyebrow. The phone keeps ringing and you glare at Loki, trying to shoot him the best warning look you can manage, keeping your eye on him as you straighten up and pick up the phone.
“Stark Communications Lab, how can I help you-hooO—howcanIhelpyou??”
Loki’s still on the floor by your chair, his hands in the air so you can see them, but he’s pulled himself to his knees and has the nerve to take the hem of your dress between his teeth, dragging it up your thigh.
You jerk away and cross your legs, shooting him a deathly glare.
It’s an officer from an international agency in Brazil on the other line, calling in a sighting of the same type of runes you’ve been staring at for hours on some train station wall. You’ve been waiting for a break like this, but as the guy blabbers on about coming to see it, all you can focus on is clamping your mouth down hard on your hand to keep from squealing out loud.
Let’s just say that Loki’s still not using his hands.
You stammer out responses to the officer on the other line, cutting yourself off every few seconds to violently cough to cover up any mewling sounds that might escape your lips, and Loki grins every time. He hasn’t quite touched you yet, but you’re pretty sure that’s worse.
“Yeah, I’ll-I’ll see if I can come—heh, excuse me,” you cough and jam your foot into his side when he laughs and whispers “you can, believe me,” followed by a long lick up way too high on your thigh.
Shaking your head furiously at him, you mouth “I’ll kill you” to him and kick him pointlessly in the ribs.
He just waves his hands again to show that hey, I’m following the rules, and shuffles forward on his knees to wrestle himself between your tightly squeezing together legs. You clap a hand over your mouth when he pries your knees apart with an elbow, pointedly watching you with his hands in the air.
“Loki, I swear to god, you’re dead,” you hiss at him, covering the microphone of the phone for a second.
The god just hums happily and continues planting burning kisses up the inside of your thighs. He nudges one of your legs over his shoulder, then the other, wrapping his arms around your squirming thighs and keeping his hands wide open for you to see.
“Email me the photos fuu—f-first thing in the morning!” Your voice climbs up a whole octave by the end of your sentence, coming out in little more than a squeak when Loki presses a strangely hot breath of a kiss just above your core. Your thighs clamp tight around his neck as you try to keep speaking in complete sentences, and Loki just laughs.
“Sorry, am I distracting you?” He laughs with a wide grin, his head firmly stuck between your thighs, and you just squeeze his ears tighter in response.
You’re slumped down in your office chair by now, Loki’s arms around your thighs, a hand clapped over your eyes as you struggle to finish this conversation. “That’s fine. Send me what you have, I’ll—st-ahH—can I call you back?”
Thank god the officer agrees, cause you’ve got a lovely sheen of sweat across your forehead, your dress is tangled up somewhere around your waist, and Loki’s getting a little too adventurous with the waistband of your underwear.
“Thank you, goodbye.” You hang up and slam the phone down on the desk, reaching down to grab a fistful of Loki’s shirt and yanking him up with you. “Loki, you little shit.”
He looks much too proud of himself as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes ma’am?”
Your hand curls tighter in his shirt and he leans forward, scrambling to his feet as you glare at him—you kind of want to smack that smug little smirk off his annoying little face.
Or maybe just make the hell out with him.
“Wake up, darling,” he taunts when he sees your distracted gaze. “I must say, I quite enjoy making you speechless, but—mmm.”
You cut off his stupid voice by shoving your tongue into his stupid mouth, fisting your hands in his stupid hair and you notice his stupid hands stay in the air—well, you said to keep them there!
“Touch me,” you gasp, pushing Loki against your desk and he grins into your lips, letting you bend him backward until he falls onto his back on the desktop. “For fucks sake, Loki, use your fucking hands.”
“As you wish, my love.” His hands go straight to stroking up your thighs as you shove your papers off the desk and climb on top of him, straddling his hips and leaning down to keep your lips firmly pressed to his.
“I thought—mmph—” he’s cut off by a sudden intrusion of your tongue licking against his, burning hot and oh-so-welcome in his mouth. “Good gods, I thought I’d have you bent over this desk, not myself.”
“Yeah, well, you pissed me off,” you grumble and suck his bottom lip into your mouth, rocking your hips to rip a groan from his throat.
Loki smiles, eyes darkening as he gazes up at you. “But I kept my hands where you could see them, just as you requested.”
“And what a good fucking boy you are, huh?”
“I would say so.” He chuckles darkly and catches your busy face in one hand, gripping your jaw and pulling you harshly from his lips. “I should be rewarded, don’t you think?”
You narrow your eyes as best you can and try to look as threatening as possible—kind of difficult when he’s holding your jaw so tightly your lips are puckering between his fingers. “You’re getting punished, if you’re getting anything at all,” you seeth and yank your head from his grip.
“Then I’ll sit quietly and take it,” he hums, tense muscles going slack underneath you, much to your surprise. “Like a good boy.”
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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!
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