Warnings: Absolutely large amounts of fluff up ahead! That's it!
Summary: Loki and you were spending the evening of your anniversary in a calm and gentle way. During your time together, Loki brings up the first time you two realize the other had feelings for them and enjoys recounting the story to you as you loved.
This is written for @sarahscribbles Birthday Celebration! It's only my fourth finished one-shot for Loki ever, so I hope I actually meet some of your standards! I used the prompt "Are you really so oblivious?" which I put in bold in the text!
*****
"Do you remember when you found out that I had feelings for you?" Loki said, his eyes crinkled up in delight. His cheeks were pink in the soft candlelight and he held a glass full of wine, leaning against the marble countertop of the washroom.
Y/N, seated in the bathtub a few feet away, giggled and set her own glass down. "By the norns, Loki, why must you always bring this up?" she asked, but her tone told him she wanted to relive the memory anyways. Loki smirked and rolled his eyes.
"Honestly, I still don't know how you couldn't tell I was madly in love with you," he said. "I was a righteous and noble Prince, yet I was nothing more than a muttering mess when you were around." He pushed himself off the counter and closed the distance between the two of them, sitting down on the edge of the tub and tucking a few wet strands of Y/N's hair behind her ear. She smiled, looking into his blue eyes with pure adoration.
"Yet you never told me anything until you were jealous of your brother," she quipped, wriggling her eyebrows at him. He chuckled, a delightful sound that Y/N would never grow tired of hearing. She smiled as he recounted the two days leading up to his jealousy, his smile never leaving his lips.
It had been the middle of winter, and Y/N was good friends with both of the Odinsons since meeting them the year prior. The three of them did everything together - so much so that Y/N had to designate times to spend alone with each of them, or they would bicker and send her into a flurry of chastising. These two particular days had been exceptionally hard on Loki, as his mother was off with Odin, writing up a peace treaty with the neighboring realm. Loki hadn't spent much time away from Frigga, and the toll it was taking on him hadn't been especially kind.
Y/N was patient with him, though. She had slept in his room so he wouldn't be alone. It spoke novels to Loki, as he was afraid to even ask something of her to begin with, and she had offered to do so before any words left his mouth. But Loki had woken to an empty room the next morning, which left him rather crestfallen.
Y/N was off spending time out in the city with Thor and Lady Sif, commissioning a weapon smith for new daggers. They decided to make a day out of it - buying goods from stalls filled with burly men that intrigued them and snacking on treats from plump women that knew how to bake. There was lots of laughter as Thor recounted the many battles he experienced with Sif, always ending in her punching him on the arm playfully. As time went on, the sun began to set, and the three of them made their way back to the palace.
When they arrived, they found Loki in the dining hall, sitting alone with a book and a few plates of barely touched food. He hadn't looked up when they entered rather noisily, still laughing with each other over some story of Thor mistakenly fighting a rock. As they sat down, Loki stood up. Y/N attempted to make conversation with him, but he didn't acknowledge her once - leaving the room and his dinner behind.
Y/N paid no mind to his lack of openness, and instead drank heavily with Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three as they joined them for the meal. She fell asleep that night in her own room, and woke up long after the sun had risen the next day. When she had come down to the dining hall again for breakfast, Loki was nowhere to be seen, and she hadn't noticed again because Thor was already being his usual, loud self. He greeted Y/N with eagerness, asking if she was still on for their spar session in a few. She agreed, and the two of them headed out to the training grounds after she shoveled some eggs into her mouth quickly.
It was in the silence of the courtyard that Y/N finally realized how absent Loki had been, so she asked Thor if he knew anything.
"Is there ever a time where there's not something wrong with my brother?" he retorted, grabbing the wooden hammer off of one of the weapons racks. Y/N sighed as she took hold of the wooden daggers.
"I know Loki usually gets like this when Frigga leaves, but this time it feels... Different." She took her fighting stance, beckoning Thor to make the first move. He only laughed, throwing his head back and placing a hand to his stomach.
"The words 'Loki' and 'different' always seem to find themselves in the same sentence," he said, smiling down at Y/N with amusement. "But I don't see this as anything out of the ordinary." He patted her on the shoulder and took his fighting stance. "Come on, Lady Y/N, I don't want you distracted while I kick your ass."
The two of them sparred for hours, keeping warm against the cold winter air by keeping their bodies moving. But soon the chill was too much and snow started falling, so Y/N sought refuge inside. She wandered to the library for her upcoming "date" with Loki as she settled on the idea of waiting in front of the fire in there for him to show up.
To her surprise, she found Loki already splayed out on his back in front of the fireplace reading as usual, and his eyes darted to meet hers as she approached him. She knew her footsteps were silent, but he still was aware of her presence. He quickly sat up and drew his legs underneath him, leaning back against the bottom of the love seat that sat opposite of the fireplace.
Y/N continued making her way to him and plopped down next to him, leaning over to see what he was reading. "What's this? I thought we were reading something else, today," she said cheerily. He only shrugged his shoulders in response, so she continued. "Thor and I had a wonderful time outside today. But the sky had other plans for us, and we had to come inside early. Maybe we can go for a stroll in the snow later. I know how much you love this type of weather." She smiled at him, but he paid her no mind as he continued to stare at the pages in his hand. Her brows furrowed and she reached over to place a hand on his thigh, but he tensed so quickly that her hand paused mid air, before dropping back down to her lap. "Are you okay, Lo?" she asked, hoping the nickname only she was allowed to use would make him ease up a bit.
It only made him tense more, and he rolled his eyes before dropping the book down to his lap rather aggressively. "No, Y/N, as a matter of fact, I'm not okay," he said. Hearing his voice made her relax a bit. He's not giving her the silent treatment anymore, at least. But his tone was off, and she assumed it to be because of Frigga's absence.
"Hey, you know she will return tomorrow, right?" she said softly, hoping to rid him of his worries. Loki scoffed and went back to his book. Y/N's face reflected confusion as she turned so her whole body was facing him. "Is that not what troubles you?"
With a huff he set his book down again, turning to face her now. "Are you really so oblivious?" he asked. When Y/N's face showed no recognition, he placed a hand to his temple and closed his eyes.
"Loki, I'm so confused," she said, now placing her hand on top of his. He pulled back and stared into her eyes with a look of longing.
"You spend the entire night in my room, and what, you think because I miss my mother?" he spit, hurt clouding his tone. "Then you abandon me before the sun even rises, spend the entire day with my brother, and still you have no idea what could possibly be souring my mood?"
Y/N's heart flutters as she looks at him, but her mind screams warnings at her. She had always been so careful around him - not because he was fragile, but because, selfishly, she didn't want to ruin the moments between them that she found herself looking forward to every day. She had suspected that there might be more to her longing to lie next to him as he read the newest stories of the books he collected, but she told herself time and time again that if he had felt the same way about her, he would have said something. For him to be confirming her suspicions now, after all this time... Surely she must be misunderstanding.
Searching his eyes for some hint that he was messing with her, Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again as the words refused to form coherent sentences in her head. Her cheeks flushed from embarrassment at her insensibility. The only thing she could squeak out was a measly little "I'm sorry," before she grabbed his hands and held them. She turned them over in her own, admiring each and every crease of his palms, every ridge of his knuckles, and the curve of his perfectly manicured fingernails. He simply let her, feeling his frustration dissipate with her warm touch complimenting his cool temperature.
After sitting like that for a long while, Loki finally looked up and met her gaze with hesitation. He now searched her eyes for any trace of uneasiness before he found himself leaning in slowly. Y/N bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced down at his lips, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to press her own to them with feverish desperation. But Loki paused when they were inches apart, and his voice lowered to an unsteady whisper, her name spilling out of his mouth so delicately, she wished she could reach out and capture the sound forever.
"By the norns, I have dreamt of telling you how I feel for many moons, but every time I wanted to, I couldn't find the words..." he said, lifting his hand to brush a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes gently, leaning into his touch like she needed it. Her heart drummed symphonies in her chest, and he didn't move his hand away immediately. Surely he could feel how quickly her blood flowed through her body with the flittering pulse in her neck, but if he had, he paid it no mind as he spoke the words she had been longing to hear. "I have loved you from the moment we met, darling."
Y/N chanced opening her eyes and was met with the most adoration filled expression she'd ever seen. She felt her heart now skip a few beats as her body took over, placing her hands to his shoulders and pulling him forward until their lips met. She kissed him gently, fireworks exploding behind her eyelids as his hands snaked down to her waist. He held her firmly, like she would change her mind if he wasn't careful enough. When they finally pulled away, Y/N placed her forehead to his and smiled sheepishly.
"I love you, too, Loki," she said, lacing her fingers into his black strands and stroking his scalp with soft precision. She had done the same thing many times before, but something else sparked a different noise to escape his kiss-bruised lips, and his eyes fluttered shut.
"Stars, sweetling, I've waited eons to hear those words from your lips," he said breathily, his smile giddy as he pulled back to properly look at her. "And I've never imagined they would sound this good."
***
Y/N giggled as she downed the last sip of wine in her glass. Loki leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Those words still make my knees weak and my head spin when you say them," he said, pouring warm water on her shoulders. He had begun bathing her as he recounted the delightful story, and she was loving every second of it. She smiled up at him, setting her empty glass down and relishing in everything about this moment.
"I love you, I love you, I love you," she repeated, watching as his lips quirked up into that smirk of his she loved so much. Loki chuckled and rubbed circles into her wet back, leaning over and pulling the drain plug.
"If you want to ruin the magic of those words darling, I promise you'll need to do a lot more than echo them at me. I could listen to you say that all day." He stood and grabbed a few towels, wrapping them around Y/N as she stood and stepped out of the tub. He leaned down and pecked her nose, which only made her giggle incessantly as he lead her out of the washroom. He dried her off with the towels and took them back over to the basket next to the washroom door. While he did this, she slipped into the bed, sitting up with her back against the headboard.
Loki undressed, joined her in bed, and laid his head on her lap. Y/N reached to scratch his scalp out of habit, and he let out the same loving groan he did every time since that day. "I still love when you do that," he said, letting his eyes close as he relished in the feeling.
"And I still love you," Y/N responded, leaning her head back and sighing peacefully. Loki smirked once again, nuzzling his head further into her hands.
Warnings 18+ for the following:- Kidnapping, Smut {F receiving), Very Mild Fluff, Use of Pet Names. Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason. Feedback is welcomed and any mistakes are my own.
By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.
Author’s Note 1:- A day late, this is just a little something I put together as a birthday gift for our fabulous @darkficsyouneveraskedfor .Thank you so much for all the amazing fics you treat us to and the inspiration you provide to so many of us. Hope your day was every bit as enjoyable as you deserve and this little gift tickles your fancy. You’re the absolute best Roo.
Author’s Note 2:- As always, all images have been found through google search.
Synopsis:- Waking up to a birthday you weren’t quite looking forward to, can the man from your dreams really make it a day to remember?.
Pairings:- dark!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, soft!Loki x Female Reader.
Word Count:- 1,638
Looking around the room it still bothered him as to whether or not this was a good idea, but what choice did he have? Two months into your .... confinement ... now and you had started to show improvement. Oh sure, this simply meant that you hadn't tried escaping anymore while your language and attitude still needed a serious readjustment. But progress was progress and that had to count for something. Besides, it was only going to be his closest friends that were coming and given who they were your behavior really shouldn't be that much of an issue, right?
Walking around the house now and adding the final touches to the flowers, balloons, decorations and food, it was then time to head downstairs and see how much work needed to be done with you before the guests arrived. That it seemed might be Steve's biggest challenge today.
Placing his thumb against the lock and waiting for the door to slide open, the basement apartment at least looked clean and tidy so that was thankfully one less argument the two of you would have to engage in. You lying in bed pretending to be asleep however, that just proved that things were not going to go smoothly. Which if he was honest was totally to be expected.
Stepping into the room now and allowing the door to close behind him, Steve next walked over to the bed and threw back the covers in the hopes that it might elicit some acknowledgement from you of his presence. But that it seemed was wishful thinking. As it was, him lying on the bed behind you and reaching out to hold you close still seemed to be the only thing that got you moving. Which is probably why he was ready for you.
Moving with a speed and strength his massive frame hid so well, his body now spooning yours should have had you hurtling out the other side of the bed to get away from his suffocating presence, but as things stood you were simply too tired to care. Today was your birthday after all. A day that was supposed to be dedicated to your happiness ahead of a year filled with everything that brought joy, laughter and lightness to your world.
Instead it was your first birthday here. Quite possibly the first of many if this nut job had his way.
Thinking back now on that fateful night two months ago when your car had made it halfway home before dying without reason in the middle of nowhere, Steve Rogers coming to your rescue should have been the answer to your prayers. Except it seemed that he had been the devil responsible for this unmitigated catastrophe. Now here you lay wrapped up in his arms, sequestered beneath the floors of his home and he expected you to love him.
As if, you thought bitterly now as he continued to hold you and talk to you about the party he had planned, the guests he was waiting on and of course, the behavior he would not tolerate from you throughout the day. Too bad no one reminded him this was supposed to be your day and your party.
Wincing now however as he squeezed your hip to get your attention and make sure you were listening to every word he said, you were prepared once more to tell him where exactly he could shove his love but it seemed he had arrived at that conclusion all on his own. Moving his palm inward now as his strength showed itself once more to push your thighs apart, your night-time dream of a past love you would never know again, tricked him into thinking that things between you had thawed far more than they actually had.
But then you supposed telling him the truth would not only land you in deeper shit, there was also the very real possibility that the blond dumbbell wouldn't even believe you. So really, why waste your breath you figured.
Working your juices around your flower now as you let the memory of the previous night's dream invade your being once more, Steve satisfied now that he had you just the way he liked you found your leg thrown over his as his rod found its way to your entrance and slotted home. Moaning now at the fullness you knew you would never get used to as the man responsible groaned in unison while his hips thrust against your ass, the impending orgasm rising within almost tricked you into screaming out the name of the god that held your heart.
But thankfully, enough of your sanity remained in place to keep you quiet as Steve released himself within you and the waves this triggered sent you into blissful ignorance while his shaft remained hard and his hips began working on round two.
Waking from your orgasm induced slumber some time later now to find Steve all but naked except for the towel covering his manhood, a quick shower yourself and both of you were now headed back upstairs to the house proper for the party he had promised. And what a party it turned out to be
Meeting and greeting the various Avengers in the manner that was accustomed as Steve's significant other, you figured the easiest thing now was to simply go along with what he wanted while seeing if any opportunity presented itself to improve your situation. Little did you know however where that opportunity might come from.
Walking away from Natasha and Wanda now as your empty glass called out to be replenished, a flash of green in the treeline outside should have alerted you to an uninvited presence, but instead the tendrils of ice creeping along the well manicured lawn and freezing every hero within the house was more than enough to reassure you help was on hand.
Your prince had found you.
Looking around now as everyone remained locked in the conversations and motions that had held their attention before this incursion while you moved freely amongst them, the back door opening and welcoming your savior brought a newfound lightness and joy to an existence you had so far barely managed to stumble through.
Rushing forward to greet Loki now as his arms stretched out to welcome you home, his black suit complimented his complexion beautifully. But if you were honest you would have taken him naked, for the love of your life was not a dream.
Holding you to him a little longer now as his senses seemed to suggest you needed the confirmation, him calling out to you gently then broke the spell his appearance created as the reality of your situation hit you once more. You were not yet out of danger.
Sending you off around the house now to pick up any personal items you deemed too precious to leave behind, Loki now reached out with his mind, captured the will of all those present and drawing on all the skills his mother Frigga had taught him, replaced the memory of your birthday party with that of one dedicated to the buffoon who had dared to take you from him.
Going through the rest of the house now and working his magic to replace any and all trace of your existence, he then took one last look at the hero he desperately wished to disembowel but thought better of it. A dead super soldier, more especially a retired Captain America, would be a shock to all those present and a lightning rod for the retribution that was bound to follow. No, he had what he wanted and soon both of you would want for nothing more as the forgotten reaches of the Nine Realms kept you off the hero's radar. Now he had just had to find you.
Locating you now at the basement door as the lock proved the one thing you weren't prepared to overcome, Loki was tempted to blow his plan out of the water through the rage that built with this revelation but thankfully your wisdom brought him back to his senses. Informing him in detail of the few items locked within that simply had to leave this place with you, a quick disappearance on his part and seconds later you were finally ready to leave.
But this abomination still needed dealing with.
Walking you back up to the main house now as a customary appraisal of his powers told him time was running out, the God of Mischief cast a quick and elaborate spell to make it so the door to the basement was now a solid wall with nothing down below. And then his attention returned solely to you.
"Well Pet, I promised you you'd always be mine. Are you ready to see where that promise leads?" he asked and you dropping to your knees and pledging yourself to him, body and soul, would have had him claiming you there and then if only the circumstances allowed. But that was not to be.
Taking your hands now and raising you back up onto your feet, Loki instead returned both of you to the treeline from where he had first appeared before casting yet another spell that thawed Earth's Mightiest Heroes while still somehow masking all traces of the magic that now permeated every block, nail, wood paneling and molecule within the bounds of this property.
Shimmering out of existence then in a manner that would once have had you questioning all sense of reality, arriving now in a location that screamed Loki made you grateful at last that this universe still held powers and wonders the mortal mind would never comprehend. For with it came the god that made your dreams a reality and every birthday to come more special than the next.
anon requested. reader tries convincing Loki all day to let them braid his hair & comforting loki after a nightmare
You’d been bothering your boyfriend all day. Really, you’d been trying the entire week to convince Loki to let you braid his hair, but he was resistant to give in.
He’d been letting it grow out in long, black locks, and you desperately wished to play with it. It had been falling in his eyes, getting on the god’s nerves, and you’d proposed a solution, one he was having much more fun denying you of.
“Lo, baby, please!” you begged, running after him through the tower.
“No!”
“But why?”
“You just like me to beg,” you accused with a giggle, following him into your shared bedroom.
“Oh? Is that right? Kneel, then, please me.”
You rolled your eyes, squealing as he grabbed your waist and dragged you into his body. Magic sparked from his fingertips, causing tiny electric shocks against your skin.
“Loki! No!” you gasped through fits of laughter.
He tried to shake his hair out of his face, groaning as it blinded him, allowing you to slip away.
“See?” you teased, swiftly moving away from his grasp.
“Alright. Have your way with me, darling.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
Loki shot you a harmless glare, sitting down in front of one of the chairs in your bedroom. You grabbed a brush and a couple of bands from the counter, going to sit down behind him.
He sat between your legs, folding his arms on top of his knees and resting his chin on them, allowing you full access to his hair.
“Relax for me, Lo,” your soft voice soothed the god.
He adored you, and loved the feeling of your hands on him, even in a gentle, innocent way. His dark lashes fell closed, letting him focus on the feeling of you carefully brushing his hair, freeing his black locks from tangles.
His soft, content sigh made you smile, knowing you’d finally won against the god’s stubborn will. Your fingers intertwined pieces of his hair, weaving it into two french braids against his head. You tied them off at the nape of his neck before kissing the part, where his fair skin showed through the ink-black strands.
“Better?” you asked, Loki feeling you smile against the crown of his head.
“Yes. Thank you, darling.”
“Mhm, my pleasure.”
He leaned his head against your thigh, nearly falling asleep on the floor.
“Let’s get in bed. How does that sound?” you asked, smiling down at him.
“I’m not tired.”
“My god of lies, you can’t fool me.”
He grinned at you, shaking his head. You gasped as he grabbed your body, hauling you into bed with him, as if displaying his inhuman strength was necessary.
You snuggled down in bed with him, letting Loki wrap his body around yours. You exhaled softly, feeling the solidity of his body against your own. He buried his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of you, letting himself relax.
.
Your eyes slowly opened, filling your sight with your dark bedroom. The clock told you it was still early, a bit before sunrise. You didn’t understand why you were awake until you felt it again, Loki’s arms squeeze tightly around you and a terrible whimper escape his lips.
You rolled over, your chest pressed against his as the god only tightened his grip on you. Even unconscious, he was afraid you’d leave him.
“My love, you’re just having a nightmare. Wake up for me,” you spoke softly, your hands going to his face, brushing your fingertips over his cheekbones.
You kissed him when he didn’t wake, whispering his name against his lips, your pleas growing more desperate as you were forced to watch your lover suffer from nightmares.
“Lo, baby, please wake up. You’re safe,” you hugged him tightly.
Finally, you got to see those gorgeous ocean eyes. Loki’s lashes batted together as he blinked, shaking free of the nightmares.
“Baby?”
“Hi,” you breathed, wiping a stray tear from his face and kissing his cheek.
“Asgard, it was falling again,” he spoke softly, and you shook your head.
“It’s over. We’re home, you’re here with me, completely safe.”
Loki nodded slowly, burying his face into your shoulder and hugging you to his body. Your fingers combed through his now-loose braids, settling the god and making the anxiety dissipate.
“Thank you,” Loki murmured, squeezing you tightly.
You kissed the side of his head, playing with his hair until the sun started to peek over the horizon, casting the room in hues of golden.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This fic contains adult themes including sexism, cigarette smoking, oral sex (f receiving), sex (m/f) and a bit of dirty talk (done respectfully!).
Words: 4,708
Summary: Loki's been after you to join his advertising firm for years. What'll happen once you finally accept his offer? AU set in the 60's in New York.
Author's Note: Took the title for this fic (+ a few lines) from Lykke Li's A Little Bit. This all started with the edit below... blame the photo, not me!
Source: loki-darkprince-odinson
...
“Jesus. What does this make? Five bouquets over the past month alone?”
“Not to mention the chocolates.” Grace kept her focus on the mail in front of her as she answered her coworker.
“Can’t forget about the chocolates,” Beth rolled her eyes. “So is he in love with her?”
Grace sighed. “He wants her at his firm. He’s been after her for years.”
“All this for her work? I don’t buy it.” Beth fiddled with the cellophane on the bouquet of orange flowers. They looked expensive.
“All I know is once a campaign comes out for any account she’s on we can expect something at the office. Gifts have been getting bigger though,” Grace frowned, remembering the singing telegram he sent her after the Pan-Am ad. The young lad had refused to leave, insisting on sitting in the reception area until she finished her meetings to sing his message. Quite a disruption indeed.
“Why doesn’t she do it? Why doesn’t she leave?”
“Don’t think that’s our business. Why don’t you take these,” she handed Beth a few letters, “and those,” she pointed to the flowers, “to her office?”
Beth turned, sighing at the older woman as she strode away. Grace was terrible at office gossip. Heels clicking off the tiled floor of the office, she turned at the end of the hallway, passing the glass offices as she went. She threw a wink to the boys in accounts as she passed, giggling at their flushed faces.
Finally at her destination, she found you bent over the drafting table, eagerly discussing something with Ed, an illustrator. She knocked on the door, “delivery for you,” she smiled warmly, meeting your eyes.
“Thanks, Beth. Could you put those on the desk?” You pointed towards the mahogany desk, cluttered with papers and magazines.
Beth nodded, placing the bouquet gingerly on top of the letters. She noted the other bouquets strewn throughout the room, sitting in coffee cups and water glasses. Trying her best to ignore the burning curiosity nipping at her, she nodded at you once more and left the room.
Ed chuckled, “some suitor you got there.”
You shook your head. “I don’t know why he does it. I’m not keen on leaving, especially for a smaller firm. I’ve made that clear. All he’s managed to do is get me a raise.”
He smirked, redrawing a line on the page before him. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. You do good work here, he’d be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks Ed.”
“We need you in the conference room in five.” Your boss was at your door, looking a bit flustered.
“Is this about the Dove draft? We’re gonna need another hour or two at least,” you said, leaning against the drafting table to face him.
“No. This is urgent. It’s for Silva, they want to change directions.”
You frowned. You had put up some of your best work for that account, and the pitch had gone swimmingly. “What? A week before print? Why?”
He swallowed and lit up a cigarette. “New brand director. He wants a whole new campaign on the same timeline. We can’t afford to lose this account.”
You took a breath, your fists clenched. “We’ll meet you there.”
...
You slid into the barstool, sighing as you lit up a cigarette. You slapped a magazine on the counter, flipping through the pages lazily.
“Rough day?” The bartender stood in front of you, smiling warmly.
“Rough couple of weeks.”
“I got just the thing.” He winked, quickly getting to work on a cocktail.
Your eyes fell back to the pages in front of you, still flipping through the articles and ads. A little over halfway through the issue you came upon what you were looking for. You could feel your blood boil as you re-read the slogan that asshole had decided on.
“Cigarettes are like women. The best ones are thin and rich.”
You could hear the older man’s laugh rattling in your head once he’d heard the string of words Jacobs had come up with. You’d had to close your eyes, your fists tight as you held your tongue. “Lighten up honey, it’s a joke!” He’d noticed you in the corner, the only woman in the meeting, his booming laugh vibrating the glass of the conference room.
You’d given him a tight-lipped smile before excusing yourself, attempting to get yourself as far away as that bastard as you could when you felt a tight grip on your arm. You spun to meet the eyes of your boss, and quickly pulled your arm from his grasp.
“I need you to handle this account.” His tone was firm.
“Get someone else to do it,” you seethed. “Hell, do it yourself. I don’t want to fucking touch this.”
“Christ, get a hold of yourself. Everyone else is busy. This was your account from the start. Jacobs already did you a favour with the slogan. So get back in there, show him that pretty smile, and come up with a draft worthy of printing next week.”
“Don’t make me do this,” you shook your head. “Give me another account.”
“We don’t have the time, or the manpower for that. Stop being so dramatic, and get your ass back in there.”
You closed your eyes, pushing the memory from your mind with a shudder. The bartender gingerly set your drink in front of you- a gimlet, and threw you a sympathetic smile before turning to another customer.
You took a hefty sip, silently thanking the bartender for giving you a double.
“Hello darling,” you heard a familiar drawl behind you.
You took a deep breath before slamming the magazine shut and spinning the stool to face him. “Loki.”
He was wearing a purposely tailored loose fitting brown suit, his pressed white shirt a sharp contrast. His tie was brown, dotted with blue, and his leopard print pocket square was meticulously folded into something resembling origami. He held a hand in his pocket, his shoulder-length dark hair slicked back against his head. He was grinning at you, the light blue-green of his irises twinkling as he took you in.
“Listen,” he slid into the stool beside you, motioning to the bartender. “I saw what you did for Dove.” His eyes lit up. “Brilliant.”
You swallowed another gulp of the liquor. “Thank you.”
“And,” he nodded to the bartender as he slipped a scotch on the rocks in front of him, and another Gimlet to you, “I saw the latest for Silva.” He let the words settle.
With that you finished off your beverage, swapping the glass for the fresh one in front of you. “And?” You turned to him, your jaw set.
“Come work for me, and you’ll never be in a position like that again.”
“I don’t know Loki,” you fiddled with the rim of your cocktail glass, avoiding his earnest stare. The way he looked at you made your heart race- he looked as if he were awestruck. As if you’d just cured cancer, or negotiated world peace.
“Come to my office after work tomorrow and we can discuss my offer.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. That would look bad.
“Right.” He thought for a second, taking a sip of the drink before him. “Before work tomorrow? 7?”
“Fine.” You sipped the gimlet, fingers toying with the edge of the magazine in front of you.
“Lovely.” You could feel his gaze on you, you could tell he had that same wondrous expression as he took you in. “Absolutely lovely.”
There was a moment of silence, and you chanced a look at him out of the corner of your eye. He was smiling at you, dimples deeply pronounced as he regarded you warmly.
“I hate to do this but I have to run, I’m meeting a potential client.” He finished his drink and set some bills under the glass before getting up from his stool.
You turned to meet his twinkling stare.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked again, seemingly nervous that you’d changed your mind already.
“Tomorrow.” You nodded, looking around awkwardly under his intense gaze.
“Lovely.”
...
Your fingertips traced your name on the thick card stock, then back up to “OPHIDIA ADVERTISING AGENCY INC.” at the top. You slid the business card back into the box before reading today’s memos.
It didn’t take long for you to admit that you liked it here. It was a smaller firm, quieter than your last.
After Loki had offered you more pay, and the chance to head up your division, you’d accepted. You were apprehensive at first, assuming he’d change his tune towards you, as your last boss had.
But after three months of working on small and large accounts you could tell it wasn’t the case. He wanted you here. He valued your opinions, and your work. He supported you when it came to clients, a first in your line of work. He treated you more so like a partner than anything else. He respected you.
You formed a friendship with him, finally letting him in. And you were happy you did so. You could tell your work was improving, in part to his input. And your presence this was doing wonders for the agency’s clientele. He’d grown from 30 accounts to 40 in just three months. You made a hell of a team.
Right as you started to turn your thoughts back to the day’s schedule, he came bursting through your door.
“You won’t believe this. I don’t believe this!” He was pacing in front of your coffee table. You could tell he was excited by the glint in his eye, and how he kept running his hands through his hair.
“What is it?” You got up, settling in on the couch with your coffee.
“Coca Cola. They’re looking for a new agency.”
You blinked up at him. “What?”
He sat on the couch beside you. “Coca Cola. And they want to meet with us for a pitch.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Darling, do you need a hearing aid?” He smirked at you, taking a sip of your coffee.
You slapped your hand against his arm, “are you serious?”
He nodded, his expression full of excitement.
“Coca Cola,” you shook your head, still finding it hard to believe. “When are they coming?”
“Well that’s the thing,” he grimaced and set the coffee back down, “they’re coming next week, they sent us a brief.”
“What?” You shouted. You needed at least a month to come up with something worthy of Coke. Not seven days.
“Sure about that hearing aid?” He joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Listen, I know we can do it. All hands on deck.”
You laughed, astonished. “You mean the ten of us? Including Carol at reception?”
“Why not?” He smiled, before looking at you seriously. “If there’s anyone who can do this, it’s you.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest.
“Okay. All hands on deck.”
...
The office was a mess. The whole team had spent the last four days straight trying to brainstorm an idea worthy of the iconic cola. They wanted something bold, a slogan they could apply to a variety of demographics.
The chalkboard in your office was full of lines, but none quite hit hard enough.
You’d decided to send your team home for the night, most of them looking as if they were on their last legs this afternoon. Loki had done the same, and the two of you sat in his office, illuminated by the low glow of his desk lamp, the remnants of your takeout dinner littering the space.
You were spinning in his desk chair, and he was lying on his couch, throwing and catching a baseball above him. You’d been here for hours, passing ideas back and forth.
“‘Coke: goes with everything’,” he said, catching the ball once more.
You pulled your lips to the side, “good sentiment, but a bit awkward.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d thrown his blazer somewhere, his tie with it. His shirt was wrinkled, top buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You’d never seen him this disheveled. Something about it made you smile.
“How about…” you trailed off as you spun around, thinking how best to rephrase that. “‘Things go better with Coke?’” You raised an eyebrow, you liked the way that sounded. Or maybe you’d run through it too much for today.
Swivelling back towards the couch, you saw Loki sitting up, his eyes wild. “Say it again.”
Your heart beat faster, he’d only look at you like that when you got your best ideas. “‘Things go better with coke.’”
“That’s it!” He got up, pacing the length of the couch.
You got up, feeling the need to pace as well, your mind running a mile a minute.
“We can sort out the formatting tomorrow and illustrate a few options before we meet,” he spoke quickly, stepping over to the bar to pour you both a scotch.
“‘Things go better with coke,’” you sat down on the couch, grinning.
“Say, a burger and fries,” Loki slid beside you, handing you a drink.
“Going to the beach on a hot summer’s day,” you bit your lip, your heart racing.
“A job well done,” Loki clinked his glass against yours and you both took a sip.
You brought out a cigarette, still smiling. “A first date,” you mumbled with the cigarette between your lips. He had leant over to light your cigarette and froze with your words, his gaze simmering with something in the light of the small flame.
He held his position, lowering the lighter as the flame disappeared, cigarette unlit, his eyes searching yours.
“What?” You whispered, holding the cigarette between your fingers. All of a sudden it was hard to breathe.
In a moment he’d closed the gap between you, his lips urgent, yet soft against yours. You held still for a fraction of a second before melting into him, his hand coming up to hold your face, as if he wanted to keep you in place.
He brought his other hand to the small of your back, holding you against him. God- his hands felt so good, so warm, slightly calloused against you. You couldn’t help but whimper lightly at the sensation.
With that he pulled away, and you kept your eyes closed for a moment, savouring it as you took shaky breaths. You blinked to find the swirls of blue-green soft in front of you.
“Darling, I-“ he breathed against your lips, his hand falling from your cheek. “I don’t want to ruin this, what we have. I’d hate myself forever if I did. You’re the most talented and brilliant person I’ve ever met. You’re singlehandedly saving this company, saving me.” He swallowed. “But I’m afraid I’ve fallen a little bit in love with you. I can’t keep ignoring my feelings. I understand if you need to-“
You cut him off with a kiss. You threaded your fingers through his locks, smiling to yourself at how his hair felt as soft as it looked. You pushed yourself against him, losing yourself in him momentarily. Eventually you pulled back from his lips to rest your forehead against his, your hands falling to his shoulders. “I’m a little bit in love with you too.”
He closed the gap this time, his kiss slower as you savoured the way you felt against one another. You trailed your fingertips from his shoulders to the collar of his shirt, quickly finding the buttons when he gripped your hands and pulled away once more, his breath now heavy against your lips.
“This can wait, darling. I don’t want to rush a single moment with you,” he slid his fingers up your forearms, towards your elbows, stroking your skin gently.
“Then let’s take our time,” you agreed, “but I don’t want to stop. Please,” you nipped at his bottom lip, “don’t stop.”
He looked at you, his expression inquisitive- he wanted to make sure that this was what you wanted. You nodded, your chest heaving.
He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone, holding your gaze as he slowly bent to capture your lips once more. He kissed you slowly, taking your lower lip between his teeth lightly, running his tongue gently along your own. As he kissed you he ran his hands down your neck, your shoulders, your arms, he slid his hands along your waist and up your back, memorising every inch of you with his fingers. He found the zipper of your dress and brought it down, breaking from the kiss to look at you as he pulled the dress from your front. He was breathing heavy as his eyes roamed over your skin, to the soft lace of your bra. He looked at you with such a need it made you press your thighs together.
“Lovely,” he slid down onto his knees before you, helping you shimmy out of the rest of your dress. He swallowed hard as he looked at you before him, his hardened length showing through the soft wool of his trousers. “Absolutely lovely,” he brushed his fingers from your knee down to your ankle, coaxing your legs apart. You stared down at him, heart thudding in your chest as his eyes took in the soft lace of your briefs, your garters holding up your beige stockings.
“Darling you are going to be the death of me,” he pressed kisses from the inside of your knee to your thigh, bringing his gaze back up to yours. “But what a wonderful death it’ll be.” With that he brushed his fingers against your slit through the fabric of your briefs and you gasped, your hips pulling backwards to provide him better access. He bent forward, his hands coming to rest on top of your thighs, to press a kiss to your clothed heat. You moaned, your legs trembling in anticipation.
Loki slowly undid the clasps of your garters holding up your stockings. You were nervous- you’d never had a man kiss you down there before. As he curled his fingertips under the band of your briefs you grabbed his hand, holding him still. “Wait- I’ve never had someone,” you swallowed, trying to find the words, “no one’s ever done that, down there. I’m not a virgin, I’ve just never done that.” You finished, heartbeat loud in your ears.
“No one’s gone down on you? No one’s ever tasted you?” His brow was furrowed as he asked this, as if the idea of your previous lovers failing to preform oral sex on you was a personal affront.
You shook your head, doing everything in your power not to hide behind your hands in embarrassment.
“Well I’m honoured to be the first,” his expression melted into a sly grin, moving back to pull your briefs down your legs. “I’ll make it feel good, love. Trust me?” He looked up into your eyes, an eyebrow raised.
You nodded. “I do.”
“Good girl,” he slid his hands back up onto your knees and pushed your legs apart. You squirmed at the feel of cool air hitting your wet heat. “Try and hold still if you can.”
You nodded once more, your mouth dry.
He kissed another trail from the inside of your knee to your thigh, this time on the other leg. He turned his head, eyes locking with yours as he brought himself close to your core, his breath warm against your skin. “Relax, sweet.” You noticed then that you’d been clenching all of your muscles, your hands in fists. You took a deep breath, forcing your muscles to release. Just as your body melted into the back of the couch he licked a slow stripe up your folds, his tongue flat against you. You cried out, your muscles clenching once more from the intense pleasure. Loki hummed, licking his lips. “Divine.”
His hands were over your thighs, thumbs rubbing small circles into your muscles as he dove back in, causing you to cry out once more. “How does it feel, darling?” He asked, his lips inches from you.
You couldn’t form the words- you could only nod eagerly, your mouth hanging open.
He grinned at you. “Shall I continue?”
“Yes! Yes- please.” You nodded once more.
He brought one hand down, gently swiping his fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal. He winked at you before bending to press a kiss against your bud before teasing it with his tongue. You were moaning, one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping the couch. You could feel an orgasm building within you, growing with each swipe of his tongue. He teased his fingers by your hole, dipping just the tips within you to gather more wet. Your hands were already going numb from the pleasure, then he inserted one long finger into your cunt, curling it upwards. “Loki, fuck!” He was hitting a spot within you that made your toes curl, his tongue still unrelenting against your bud.
You’d never felt this much pleasure before, your head was spinning from it all. His expression was heated as he watched you, and you wound your fingers in his hair. He added another finger and you started to shake, everything becoming almost too much. You were frozen in place, simply taking what he was giving to you, his fingers making obscene noises as they worked within you. He held your bud between his lips and sucked gently, his fingers pressing into you. “Loki! Oh my god!” You screamed as you came, your hips stuttering against him.
He continued his movements on you as the waves of pleasure hit you, your body now limp against the couch. He pressed a final kiss to you, pulling out his fingers before his tongue lapped up some of your wet. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and licked his lips, looking up at you.
“Stunning.”
You smiled at him, pulling yourself off the couch to unbutton his shirt. You pressed your palms flat against his chest, spreading them out towards his shoulders as you pushed the fabric from his skin. His dark gaze was glued to you as your hands explored the muscles of his shoulders, chest, arms. You guided him upwards so he stood before you, his erection poking out against the material of his trousers.
Looking up at him you slowly ran your hand up his thigh, grasping his length. His eyes closed briefly, his hips bucking against you. Your hands went to his belt, undoing it and his trousers before you pushed them and his briefs down. His cock sprung free- Jesus, he was well endowed. He stepped out of his clothes, fully naked before you and you swallowed at his form. He looked better naked than clothed, his soft pale skin glowing in the dim light of the desk lamp.
You slid your fingers along his length, admiring the softness of his skin before gripping him in your hand. He hissed, his hips bucking again as you moved your hand along him. You bent to take him in your mouth and he stopped you, his hand against your cheek.
“Don’t worry, I’ve done this before,” you said gently, going to move once more towards him.
“You mean you’ve given but never received?” Again he looked angry for a moment before his expression softened. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m afraid I’m too eager to take you and I don’t think I’d last if you pleasured me with that lovely mouth. Lay down for me,” he motioned for you to lay back against the leather of the couch.
You shifted and laid back, angling yourself in the corner. He stepped to his desk, rummaging around for a moment before coming back to you, rolling a condom over his length. He slid his hands on your thighs, pushing them apart before settling in between your legs. He held himself above you, reaching down to slide himself along your folds. You whimpered, the soft heat of him rubbing against you causing more slick to gather. He bent to kiss you, capturing your lips before running his tongue against yours, tasting of bitter scotch. You moaned when he started to press in, your back arching to press against his.
He continued to slide in, slowly stretching you until he was fully sheathed in your wet heat. Breaking the kiss he looked down at you, his chest heavy against yours. “Are you alright, love?”
“Yes,” you rocked your hips against him. “Please move, I need you to move. I need you.”
He nodded before pulling out and pushing back in with a dragging movement. You nodded at him and he did it again and again, setting a pace within you. He moved to kiss the skin of your neck, his breath warm against your ear. You were surrounded by him, his body warm and firm against you, his scent making your head spin. You held him tight to you, your hands pressing flat against his shoulder blades, loving the way your skin slid against his as he moved in and out of you.
He gripped the side of your hip, angling you upwards slightly and you gasped, the new angle had him hitting that same spot within you that he’d found with his fingers. You felt your slick between your bodies, your muscles clenching his length as he moved in and out.
After a few thrusts he slid his hands under you, pulling you up from the couch to sit on top of him, his cock still seated within you. He rested back against the couch, looking up at you in pure adoration.
“Move, darling.” He held your hips, guiding you to move back and forth against him. You whimpered, quickly finding a rhythm, your skin brushing against the muscles at the base of his cock in a delicious way. “Good girl, take what you need from me. Take it all.”
He brought his hands up your back, swiftly undoing your brazier and pulling it down your arms. He bent to kiss your breast, his tongue flicking against your nipple. You moaned, arching your back into his mouth as you continued your movements. He wet his fingertips with his saliva and squeezed and pinched your other nipple while continuing the movements with his mouth. You felt another orgasm building within you at the sensation, and as you looked down to see his eyes watching you, a glimmer of pride in them.
He leant back against the couch, his dark brows knitting together. “I’m close, love.” Before you could answer he brought his fingers down to where you connected, his thumb brushing against your bud. You cried out, your movements becoming more frantic as your pleasure quickly built.
“That’s it,” he nodded, “that’s it, darling. Feel it. Take what you need and cum with me,” he was breathless, his hips beginning to twitch against yours. “That’s it, fuck.” He pressed against your bud harder and you came, your hips quivering against him. “Fuck.” You kept your eyes on his as he came, his mouth falling open in a silent cry. He looked angelic, his face pure bliss. You could feel him twitching within you, just as your muscles were clenching around him, the two of you riding out your pleasure.
Eventually you melted against him, your head bending to rest against his shoulder. “Jesus.” You took a moment before moving to kiss him then gingerly standing up on wobbly legs.
He looked utterly spent, his eyes open in just slits as he smiled up at you. You picked up the unlit cigarette from before, sitting beside him with a huff and lighting it. You took an inhale before passing it to him. He took a lazy drag.
“I lied to you before.” He exhaled then turned to face you. “It’s more than a little bit.”
You took a second to understand the meaning of his words then broke out into a smile, your heart squeezing in your chest. You curled up into his side and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Likewise, handsome.”
...
Author's Note: I based some of the interactions between reader and Loki off my man and I... So I guess I owe this fic to him. Not to get all mushy but he's quite excellent and I'm very lucky to have him in my life.
Also- the Silva ad is real!!! Can you believe that shit? So are the Coke ads too. The dates were hard to track- sorry if the Silva one came after Coke’s!
Anyways I hope you enjoyed this! Likes, comments, and reblogs are all so very appreciated! Love you guys, and welcome to my new followers!!
anon requested. nobody really listens to them so they just leave and Loki follows them and let’s the reader know that they’re there for them & reader feels like shit because she thinks that no one really listens/cares about her but Loki’s there and holds them and tells them stories
Nobody listened to you.
You had tried to make yourself heard among the avengers, but you kept getting pushed aside. In meetings, you were talked over. Around the tower, you had been in conversations and interrupted by your colleagues, pulling the other away.
You were one of them, but you felt ignored and overlooked. A single instance may not have bothered you, but this had gone on for weeks now, and you felt isolated from your friends.
You were a newer addition to the team, and you didn’t feel quite like you fit in with them, or at least not yet. You had tried to give it time, but it was difficult, overwhelming, and frustrating.
.
Loki had witnessed you being brushed aside on multiple occasions. He was familiar with the feeling of not fitting in, and how exhausting and isolating it could be.
The two of you were friends, but hadn’t really been close. You were slightly distrustful of the mischievous god, something Thor had convinced you was good judgment. Loki knew how you felt, and he couldn’t blame you, though he still desired to earn your friendship and connect with you.
.
Loki knew you deserved better than the way you were being treated, and he watched your expression fall as Thor once again brushed you off.
You had been in the middle of trying to explain a strategy you felt was best for your upcoming mission. You were smart, and incredibly clever, and Loki felt like they should’ve been paying much better attention to what you had to say.
You were interrupted by Stark, who cut into your conversation and pulled Thor away to talk about the mission, completely disregarding what you had been talking about with the god.
Your hand went to your stomach, trying to settle yourself. You turned and walked from the training room, attempting to conceal the frustrated tears that were threatening to fall.
Loki stood, following you from the training room, all the way to the library, where you had collapsed onto a couch to cry. Loki hesitated for a moment in the doorway, trying not to embarrass you.
You looked up, startled when your name was called. You recognized the voice without having to turn around, deep and sultry with an accent. You immediately tried to stop your tears, sniffling and inhaling stuttered breaths.
“It’s okay. I’m so sorry they don’t listen to you.”
You were shocked to hear the acknowledgement. You’d kept your feelings and hurts bottled, thinking it was all in your head, or you were just overreacting. At the validation from Loki, you started crying again, unable to hold back your emotions.
“Oh,” Loki sat down beside you, laying a hand on your back.
“I didn’t think anyone noticed.”
“I noticed.”
You nodded, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. You accepted the comfort Loki gave, smiling as he conjured a blanket around the two of you. Your hands wrapped around his strong bicep, thankful for the comfort from the god.
“Thank you, Loki,” your whisper was hoarse.
“I think you’re clever, and you need to be heard. Don’t cry, darling, you’re wonderful.”
You smiled at him, brushing your tears away with the sleeve of your sweater.
“Do you think so?”
“I’m entirely certain,” Loki promised, brushing a piece of hair from your face.
“You know, nobody listened to me when I first got here. I was brushed off too, similar to you. It just takes time for them to warm up, you must be persistent, I’m afraid,” Loki’s voice was smooth, his deep baritone soothing.
You listened, curled up against his side on the couch. He continued with his story, and you felt better knowing that you weren’t alone in your struggle. You’d completely stopped crying as you giggled at the story of Loki standing on a table in the conference room, demanding Stark listen to him.
“You did that?”
“I did,” he nodded, mirroring your amused smile.
“Thank you, for cheering me up,” you wrapped your arms around his waist.
“My pleasure,” he hugged you, resting his chin on top of your head.
.
You walked into the meeting, Loki falling into step beside you. He lightly squeezed your arm, offering you silent reassurance of his support.
“Any ideas about how to infiltrate the Baron’s manor?” Stark asked, spreading out floor plans on the table for your crew to look at.
“I have an idea,” you spoke.
“I was actually thinking-” Parker started, but Loki immediately interrupted him.
“Y/N was about to share her idea, and I think it’s best if you listen!” his voice was sharp, silencing the chatter in the room.
Stark looked up at you, and you nodded at Loki before explaining your plan, pointing out the fully-thought-out details on the map. For the first time, they actually paid attention to what you were saying, all agreeing it was a solid plan.
“Thank you,” Bucky said, earning a smile.
“Of course.”
.
“Has it been better?” Loki asked, laying on your bed as you stretched and practiced fighting stances in the middle of the floor.
“A lot better. Thank you,” you answered, setting down your weapon and walking over to him, straddling his waist and sitting on his abdomen.
“Don’t thank me. It’s all you,” he smiled, his hands resting on your waist.
You grinned, leaning down and planting a kiss on his lips. His hands traveled under the fabric of your tank top, squeezing your warm hips. You kissed him slowly, indulging in the slow, lazy afternoon makeout session.
“Woah, sorry to interrupt. I was just hoping to get your opinion on this route?” Bucky’s startled voice came from the doorway.
You sat up quickly, slipping off of your annoyed boyfriend.
“Absolutely!” you said, trying to shake the embarrassment.
anon request. reader where she gets long acrylic nails 💅🏽 and maybe he’s never seen fake nails but ends up liking them because of head scratches
Loki sat across from you in the cafe, his head tilting slightly to the side. He held your hand, inspecting the acrylic nails you’d just had done.
“And, they’re fake?”
You nodded, but it clearly didn’t clear any confusion for the god. He’d never seen acrylic nails before, and he didn’t quite understand them.
The two of you had gone out, and he’d sat with you while you got them done, and now you were on a brunch date. He sipped from a mimosa, smiling slightly when he saw that you’d painted your nails black and gold.
“They’re like claws,” Loki stated, twisting your hand to get a better look.
“You’re so dramatic,” you accused with a giggle, sliding closer to him in the booth and stealing a bite of his waffle.
“That’s why you love me.”
You couldn’t argue with that, opening your lips as he spooned another bite into your mouth.
You kissed his cheek, giggling as he wrapped an arm around you. You rested your head on his shoulder, running your nails lightly over his blue sweater.
.
“Darling,” Loki whined, crawling into bed beside you.
You grinned at him as he wrapped his arms around your body, resting his head on your chest.
“Mobius will not give me a break,” he groaned, burying his face in you.
“I’m sorry, baby,” you hummed soothingly, setting your phone down and gently dragging your fingers through his dark curls.
A deep groan slipped from his lips as your nails lightly ran over his scalp. You kissed his forehead and carefully used your acrylics to scratch your stressed boyfriend’s head.
“I take back what I said. I love them,” he mumbled in his sleepy voice, deep and raspy.
“Yeah? You like them?”
“Mhm,” he moaned, almost asleep after only a few minutes.
You smiled, kissing his head, and lulling him to sleep after a super long day. He was warm against you, snuggled tightly in bed. You wrapped your arms around him, listening to his steady breathing.
“I love you,” you whispered in the dark, kissing the tip of his nose.
.
Loki burst into a grin as soon as he saw you seated in the living room, your legs crossed under you on the couch. You looked up, smiling, and reaching up for a hug. Loki pressed an excited kiss to your lips, in the most cheerful mood you’d seen him in in weeks.
“Did you have a good day?” you asked, setting down your laptop to focus on him.
“It was okay. I am happy to be home with you,” Loki spoke cheerfully.
You smiled, and he sat down on the floor in front of you.
“Will you mess with my hair? With your nails?” he asked innocently, tugging his curls free of the bun that they had been smoothed into.
“Of course. Tell me about your day,” you said, letting his head lean against your leg as you played with his hair and massaged his scalp.
He told you about his day, his hands moving excitedly even as he talked about the lame parts of his day. You thought about how much you loved the god, how fond you were of him as you spent a sweet moment with Loki.
“Hey, I love you, you know?” He pulled your hands down so you were leaning down over him.
“I love you back,” you grinned, kissing him sweetly.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dark!Loki fic hence it will explore sexual themes in later chapters and dark concepts. In this chapter there are mentions of death, murder, war, PTSD (untreated), and drinking.
Words: 3,060
Summary: Loki has run from himself his entire life. Settling in post-Second World War America, he finds peace in his garden, and finds the closest thing to a friend that he's had since the war. But how long can any of it last?
Set in an AU with Loki Series Loki.
...
"My grief lies all within,
And these external manners of lament
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief
That swells with silence in the tortured soul."
- William Shakespeare, Richard II
...
Loki hummed as he dug. He knew it was a poor habit, though it soothed him. It started with the first trench he’d dug in the field of a foreign farmer as hellfire rained all around, and had followed him back home in 1945. He hummed as he handled the American soil just as he had the European dirt, humming as he dug up weeds, stubborn twisted stumps, or in this case, a shallow grave.
The dim gas lamp illuminating the dark was flickering by the time he’d finished. “Just in time,” he murmured as he drove the shovel into the dirt pile and pulled himself up out of the hole from the handle.
He sighed, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his handkerchief before rubbing it lazily above his brow and pushing the hair back from his forehead. His eyes fell to the cold ones on the ground, staring up at him in shock. They were always so shocked. As if death wasn’t always going to be the end.
He mirrored the expression, staring at the man below him, his own mouth falling open with a gasp. The sound cut into the thick, silent air of the early morning. His eyes searched the cold ones for a few moments before he smiled pitifully and shook his head. “I’m sorry chap. I really am,” Loki sighed before crouching down and pushing against the rigid body, rolling him into the hole.
There was a soft thud as the body settled in its final resting place, those cold eyes still wide and staring upwards. Stretching as he stood, Loki reached for the shovel and began throwing mounds of dirt back into the hole, covering the body. He started with the face first, the clumps of soil quickly hiding those eyes from view.
Just as the sun was beginning to rise Loki was replanting the rosebushes he’d temporarily displaced over the freshly turned dirt, scattering a few seeds on top for good measure. Finally finished he stood back to admire his work, noting the differences in the rose bushes complimented the arrangement of the lilac just beside them.
Placing the shovel back in his shed he moved inside to shower and prepare himself for a few hours of rest.
Taking off his soiled shirt in the bathroom, he flipped open his pocket watch to see it was a few minutes past five. He smiled to himself as he thought of you asleep, your lovely skin wrapped in the soft cotton of your sheets. It was all over now- he’d done the work to ensure you’d see him how you deserved to. Nothing threatened to keep you from him now. His sweet girl would belong to him forever.
Grinning to himself he filled a basin with water and got to work washing the dirt and blood from his body.
...
He used to have tea with Hattie every second afternoon.
It started a few months after he’d moved to New Haven in the spring of ’47. He’d had it with the bureaucracy of his former life. It all seemed so pointless once he came home.
Selling most of his earthly possessions he sailed to America and bought a lovely home on a large plot land in a small community, close to the heart of New Haven. The garden needed work but he had idle hands and quickly took to the hobby.
Soon he’d cultivated an escape- the trees, bushes, flowers all closed him off from the outside world and prying eyes. By June he’d had neighbours or passersby knocking on his door to give their compliments, eager to shake the calloused hand that brought it all to life. They were always surprised to learn it was his doing, the women particularly so once they discovered he kept no wife.
Though he’d indulged with some, nothing was ever truly real, and he found himself quite alone at times, trembling under the weight of his memories. The sounds always came first. The cries of his friends as they shook in the cold grip of death, the sharp pops of bullets from the hundreds of guns or the deafening blow of shells, mines, and grenades as they combusted. He’d clamp his hands over his ears, every muscle in his body clenched as he held onto himself until the silence returned.
One evening, after a particularly sour stream of recollections he’d decided to step to the public house a few blocks away. He made his way down the street, his hands in his pockets as he strolled in the stifling heat of the late August evening.
“Hey you!” He was accosted by a sharp voice. Turning to his neighbour’s house he saw an old woman on the porch illuminated by the yellow lamp on the table in front of her. He stepped closer, an eyebrow raised as he held a finger to his chest.
“Yeah you! String bean! Come here,” she waved at him with the cane in her right hand. He stepped up her long path, trying his best to morph his features into something that seemed friendly.
“Hello madam,” he said once he’d reached the bottom step of her porch. “May I help you? I believe I’m your neighbour.”
“A brit huh? Come up here, have a drink with me.” She motioned to the empty seat beside her.
“My apologies but it’s quite late for that isn’t it? Perhaps I could return tomorrow at a more reasonable hour.” He looked to her, hoping she’d agree so he could continue to his destination and consume enough cheap liquor to bring on a silent sleep.
“I’ll probably be dead tomorrow. Come sit.”
He let out an uncomfortable breath before moving up the steps to sit across from her. She was ancient, her little body curled over itself though her eyes were bright. She poured them both a glass of bourbon.
“Jesus- you’re a good looking kid. Long hair though. What’s your name string bean?” She motioned at him with her glass in hand, the liquid coming up to the brim with the movement.
“Loki. It’s nice to meet you,” he nodded at her. “And you are?”
“Hattie. Tell me Loki, when’s the last time you slept?”
He laughed lightly. “I suppose I’m still acclimatising,” he gently said before taking a sip of bourbon. It was delightful.
“I’ve got a good nose for bullshit string bean,” she warned. “Who did you serve with?”
He felt his lips set in a thin line. “Her Majesty’s Second Army.”
“Jesus. So you saw the worst of it,” she stated, pouring more bourbon in his glass.
He nodded and subconsciously his fingers dug into the old scar in his leg, the pain steeling him.
“You want to talk about it?” She asked, eyeing him as she settled back in her chair.
“No.” He downed half of what she’d given him.
“Can you change the record?” She lazily motioned to the stack behind her.
He nodded, stepping over to the pile and rummaging through. He quickly found one, smiling to himself as he slipped the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it on the turntable, dropping the needle before settling back in his seat.
The smooth voice of Sarah Vaughan quickly filled the space, and Hattie’s little mouth twisted upwards. “A true romantic. Wouldn’t have guessed.”
He titled his glass towards her, and the two of them sat in silence as they enjoyed record after record and most of the bourbon. That night he slept dreamless for the first time since the war.
After that he’d started coming around Hattie’s regularly for tea though she’d never take a sip of the stuff, insisting he instead fill her cup with the bourbon she seemingly always had handy. He’d help her with little repairs around the house and she’d tell him stories of her life once she’d had enough drink to loosen her lips. Every now and then he’d share little moments of his life though she never pushed, never pried.
Every now and then he’d help her over to his garden so he could show her whatever new addition he’d been working on. In the winter he’d shovel her walk and they’d sit inside, watching the snow fall as the various maids she kept prattled around her, eyeing him every now and then.
She’d often talk of her grand niece, her only remaining family, off in Malaysia on some photography expedition. “You’d like her,” Hattie would say, “she’s too good for you though. Too good for anyone, really.”
He’d smile and nod before quickly changing the subject, seeing the pain in Hattie’s eyes as she spoke of someone she loved so far away.
In January after shovelling Hattie’s walk Loki came inside to see her grinning by the fire, a letter in her lap.
“What’s that?” He asked, shaking the snow off his coat before hanging it on the hook by the door.
“A damn good read,” she said, folding it back up. “My grand niece is coming to visit. She’ll be here in the summer.”
He smiled at her, happy to see his friend looking forward to something other than opening a fresh bottle for once.
...
It was mid April when he got the knock at his door, at the odd time of day. He had been tending to some seedlings, readying the Nigella he’d ordered by mail back in the winter.
Opening the door to the cool early morning air, one of Hattie’s maids stood there, eyes red and tired. He knew her well- Mary, an older, stern woman with a soft spot for Hattie. Her hands were white where she gripped her coat closed. His heart dropped when he saw her face, but he said nothing. He waited for her to say it.
“I’m so sorry. I went to wake her this morning, and she-“ she took a shaky breath, “she’s gone. Miss Hattie’s gone. I thought you should know. She’d want you to know.”
He blinked, willing the tears to reabsorb before sliding his mask back into place. He gave her a solemn smile, bowing his head. “I understand. Thank you for taking the time to tell me. Please let me know if there’s anything I may do to help.”
She left soon after that, informing him of the arrangements being made for the ceremony.
Closing the door, he rested his back against the firm, carved wood, slowly sinking to the floor as the familiar sounds roared in his ears.
The next few weeks blurred together. Of course he made it to Hattie’s funeral physically, but mentally he was far from it. He stood at the back of the funeral home on wavering feet, the seemingly perpetual stupor he’d been drinking himself into dulling all sensation, all sound. He decided she’d have hated this, the small room littered with crying acquaintances and neighbours.
Walking up to the closed casket, he smoothed his hand over the polished wood. “Goodbye old girl,” he slurred, “s-sorry.” He turned slowly, the room spinning as he made his way outside before promptly throwing up on the crabgrass.
...
Eventually he woke sober one morning, the light streaming through his window burning the retinas behind his eyelids. He pulled himself off the floor, gagging at his own stench. He crawled to the bath and threw himself in, turning on the water. He peeled his clothes off his body, throwing them in a heap by the door.
He scrubbed his skin roughly, bringing the soap through his matted hair and newly grown beard. If he tried, he could faintly remember the sickening smell of the pubs he visited, and the feel of his body hitting the pavement once he was inevitably thrown out. He shuddered then submerged himself, coming out of the water a tad more human.
Draining the embarrassingly dirty water he dried himself off then gathered his soiled clothes. First removing his pocket watch, he threw them in the bin outside, holding the towel around his waist. He stepped back in and dressed, gently running a comb through his long, inky locks, eventually turning to cutting about an inch of it off due to the many knots and matts. He stood in front of the mirror and tilted his head at the deathly pale form there, eyes sunken and dark. He touched his face, sighing, before dressing in his now slightly baggy clothes. He shaved then prepared himself a proper meal and drained several glasses of water.
He weakly made his way to his study, the glorious view of his garden before him. There was a lot of work to do. Looking down at the table before him his heart fell at the sight of the dead Nigellas. He closed his eyes and took a breath- no need to dwell on it now. It’s something to do. Something to keep going for.
Just then he heard a loud crash outside. He quickly found his way outside to see a commotion in front of Hattie’s house. There seemed to be fragmented pieces of mirror on the ground, reflecting the clear blue sky up above. Two men stood on either side of the mess, shouting at each other. He furrowed his brow- who gave them permission to move things? As far as he knew she’d left her entire estate to her grand niece.
He started to make his way over then stopped dead in his tracks. A woman- a beautiful, young woman came out to stand before the arguing movers, her hands on her hips. “Boys it’s fine! I don’t care whose fault it was, it’s alright. Just please pick up the pieces.” You said loud enough for Loki to hear.
The movers immediately went quiet and must have gotten to work cleaning the mess but Loki didn’t see them- his eyes were trained on you. You were lovely in every sense of the word, and his mouth went dry. Hattie was right. You were too good for him. Too good for anyone, really.
You turned and locked your eyes with his- god your eyes! His heart squeezed when you smiled at him, that smile- unlike any he’d seen before, even those conjured up in his dreams. You waved and he felt himself blush. Really. He blushed. He gave you a small bow then quickly turned back up the path to his house, chastising himself for acting like a shy schoolboy.
...
He got the garden back to its former glory in a week. He weeded, trimmed, and pruned the space. He grew new seedlings- peonies this time, tending to the little plants carefully each day. He hadn’t made an effort to see you since last week, his pulse unsteady each time he remembered your smile.
It was early Friday afternoon when he faintly heard the sound of a knock on the front door from his chaise in the garden. He made his way to the side path, winding through the various trees and bushes towards the front of the house. He stopped when he saw you, stuck deciding whether or not he should pretend to be out.
Just then your head turned and you faced him, your eyes meeting through the carefully tended rose bushes. You smiled that smile, such a brilliant thing. “Hi!”
He groaned internally, how could a voice be so lovely? “Hello,” he said as he continued his way towards you.
“Are you Loki?” You asked, stepping towards him.
“Yes,” he said, subtly wiping his suddenly clammy hands on his trousers. “You must be Hattie’s niece, she spoke of you often.”
He extended his hand and you slipped your fingers in his, your warm, gentle touch bringing an inaudible gasp from his lips. You introduced yourself, “my Great Aunt spoke of you in her letters. She called you string bean,” your eyes widened at that and you clapped a hand over your mouth. “Sorry!”
He chuckled, “not to worry. She regularly said it to my face.”
You smiled, though the sadness showed through. “That was Hattie. Not afraid to tell you what’s what.”
He nodded. “Do you want to come back for some tea?” He offered, praying he sounded casual.
“I’d love to,” you said, stepping closer to him. “But maybe something stronger?”
He smiled and turned, leading you down the path. “How’s bourbon?”
“Perfect.”
...
“I’m so sorry I didn’t see you at the funeral. I’d just come in that day and got there by the time you’d left. But thank you for coming,” you fiddled with the glass of bourbon in your hands. “Thank you for being a friend to my great aunt.”
“I was lucky to call her my friend. I was lucky to know her at all.” Loki said, his eyes on the budding lilies, grateful you hadn’t seen him in the state he’d been in. He doubted you’d be here if you had.
You gently brought your hand over his on the small wooden table. His eyes slipped closed for a second. He wanted to take it in his and bring it closer to him so he could memorise it, memorise every inch of you.
“So what’s a brit doing in Conneticut?” You said, smiling at him as you brought your hand back to your glass to take a swig.
The two of you fell into an easy conversation after that, talking until the sun hung low in the sky. He walked you back down the path to the front of the house, slowly walking side by side.
“You have the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” you said with a shy smile.
“Thank you. Feel free to come by and enjoy it anytime,” he replied, softly smiling back.
You’d reached the end of the path then quickly turned to hug him tightly. He was shocked for a moment, his body stiffening as he felt your arms around him before bringing his own behind you to hug you back. He gently breathed in your scent, warm and spicy yet fresh, with just a hint of the bourbon. That combined with the feel of you pressed against him was overwhelming.
Before he knew what was happening you’d pulled back, releasing him from the hug. “How’s tomorrow?” You asked, smiling again.
“Lovely,” he smiled back, finding himself out of breath. “Tomorrow’s lovely.”
Chapter II here.
A/N: Should I be starting something new when I have 2+ ongoing fics? Probably not. Regardless, here it is! I hope you like it- I'm hoping to release chapters weekly. Thank you for reading!!
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dark!Loki fic hence it will explore sexual themes and dark concepts. In this chapter there are graphic descriptions of sex, fingering and oral sex (f receiving).
Words: 3,220
Summary: Loki has run from himself his entire life. Settling in post-Second World War America, he finds peace in his garden, and finds the closest thing to a friend that he’s had since the war. But how long can any of it last?
Set in an AU with Loki Series Loki.
Chapter Summary: You and Loki grow closer.
Chapter I here.
...
"You go to my head
With a smile that makes my temperature rise
Like a summer with a thousand Julys
You intoxicate my soul with your eyes"
- Frank Sinatra, "You go to my Head"
...
You came back, as promised, the next day. You were smiling at him from the garden path, looking like a fallen angel. Your summer blouse wrapped around your beautiful skin, showing just enough to make his mouth dry.
He let out a breath in an attempt to get a hold of himself.
“Hi,” Loki said as he stood, brushing the dirt off his hands before wiping them on his handkerchief.
“Hi,” you said, stepping over to him. You were holding a bottle of bourbon in one hand, a pair of crystal tumblers in the other. “You’d be shocked at just how much of this is in there.”
He chuckled before he led you towards the small set of table and chairs. “I had a hunch. Lemonade?”
You nodded, sitting in the seat he’d withdrawn for you. He returned with the frosted pitcher and poured you each some in the glasses you’d brought. He topped it up with the bourbon, then passed one to you.
The two of you conversed for a few hours, enjoying the mid summer sun in the lush garden. It wasn’t long before you’d asked a question about one of the gardenias which led to him eagerly taking you around the garden to discuss each plant’s unique traits. You smiled the whole time.
“What’s your favourite flower?” Loki asked, stopping by a few pots containing Hoyas.
“Jasmine,” you said, “but it’s not native here. I haven’t seen it since Malaysia.”
He gave you a grin before taking your hand and pulling you inside. He turned into his study, pulling you behind him and brought you to a wide window overlooking the garden. Releasing your hand he motioned to the potted shrub in the corner, its 5-petaled white flowers giving off a characteristically heady scent.
He bent to pick one of the blooms then stepped closer to you, holding it between you. Your eyes went from the tiny flower pressed between the tips of his fingers to his face.
“Oh,” you breathed, taking his hand in both of yours before bowing your head to smell the blossom. “Just as I remembered,” you grinned at him.
His heart racing, he brought his other hand up to gently cup your cheek, marvelling at the delicate softness of your skin. Ever so slowly, he dipped his head towards yours, holding your gaze before softly pressing his lips to your own. He pulled back to study your expression, finding you to be dazed, your eyes heavy-lidded. Your breath was soft against his lips, your chest faintly pushing against his with each breath.
He dropped the flower and moved his hand to your lower back, holding you to him as he captured your lips once more. He gently caressed your lower lip with his tongue, tasting the faintest hint of bourbon and lemonade before lightly moving it into your mouth, against your tongue. He inwardly groaned at the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed to his, that delicate scent of yours he so wished he could bottle.
Again, he moved away, chastising himself for his poor manners. Breathless as he rested his forehead against yours, he brought his hands up to gently hold your shoulders. After a moment he withdrew his touch all together, his eyes desperately searching your own.
“I’m sorry,” his voice was soft. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know,” you agreed, “you should have done it sooner.”
...
Over the next few weeks the two of you spent almost every day together. You’d show up early morning, smiling as you always did- god that smile! Brighter than the early morning sun. You’d drink coffee together in the garden, sometimes stepping out to the local diner for bacon and eggs.
You showed him the photos you took in Malaysia, your lens capturing different endangered species and some friends. You were eager to share your time there with him. You’d turned the upstairs water closet of Hattie’s space into a dark room, and showed him how to develop film. He could stand there for hours, watching your careful but sure hands tend to the film, the negatives, the photos wet with fixer, your lovely face illuminated by the soft red light.
You discovered his love for poetry and quickly brought him several of your American favourites, E. E. Cummings, Phyllis McGinley, Elizabeth Madox Roberts, to name a few. He in turn lent you some of his latest favourites, including Eliot, Yeats, and Meynell. You’d lay together in the garden, on the chaises or a picnic blanket, reading until the sun set, interrupting each other to quote a particularly good line or for a chaste kiss.
You took him to places he hadn’t yet seen in New Haven, each spot attached to a story, a memory, of your time growing up here with Hattie after your parents passed. He told you, briefly, of his mother. Some sharp, bright memories he’d had of her before she died, before she’d left him alone with his father and brother. Before things went dark for the first time. Though he didn’t tell you that.
The evenings were always bittersweet. You’d watch the sun set then have supper together, taking turns cooking. After dinner you’d share quiet moments, whispering to each other as if you were afraid to be overheard. He’d kiss you- always gently at first, the two of you quickly becoming lost in each other, then breathless as you parted. The worst was when he had to say goodbye. He wanted to keep your body pressed against his own, holding you there, safe with him, until the morning light.
One day you brought over Hattie’s record player, the bulky box on a wagon beside a stack of vinyl that you pulled behind you. He’d helped you set it up on the back porch by the door, insisting you kept the stack within an old wooden milk crate he’d retrieved from the basement. That day you danced instead, your hand firmly in his as your laughter filled the air, the two of you flying throughout the garden.
After supper you put on “It’s Magic” and wrapped one arm around his shoulder, your fingers entwined with his. Your eyes locked as his hand fell to your waist, holding you against him and gently swaying with the music. You were close- so very close to him, your breaths mingling and his heart beat wildly, as it always did when he found himself near you.
“Thank you,” you said gently, “for dinner. And for today,” you laughed, “and I guess the past few weeks. I’ve had such a lovely time with you.”
He smiled warmly, “me too. Thank you for being so wonderful.”
You licked your lips, “It’s getting late…” You trailed off, your eyes falling from his. “You know I hate saying goodnight- I hate leaving you,” you stiffened a bit at your own admission.
“Then don’t.”
You lifted your gaze back to his, and your expression brought every fibre of his being alight. You brought your lips closer and he quickly closed the gap, capturing them in a fiery kiss. He ran his tongue along your lower lip before gently holding it between his teeth, forcing a gasp from you. Letting it go, he dipped his tongue in your mouth, running it up against your own as his hand fell from yours to come to grip the side of your face, his thumb against your cheek.
For the first time he let himself go, fully losing himself in you, your hands firmly gripping his shoulders from under his arms. The feel of you pressed against him was heaven- everything about this moment, with you was heaven. He wanted you to consume him entirely, use up all he had to give, make him yours in every sense of the word.
You pulled away from him, the two of you panting lightly. Turning, you gripped his hand and led him toward the picnic blanket, still laid out in front of the peonies. You guided him to sit then settled yourself above him so you straddled him, your skirt falling around you. He closed his eyes at the feel of you against him, letting out a shaky breath before looking up at you, his mouth falling open at the vision in front of him. You were illuminated by the moonlight and the soft glow of the lamp he’d brought outside, your skin glowing. You smiled at him, though this was a different smile- your eyes were dark with lust.
You bent to kiss him hungrily and your hands wound in his hair. You sucked gently on his tongue as you pulled lightly at his roots, eliciting a growl from his chest. He gripped your hips and slowly guided you against him. He could feel the heat of you through your panties and the linen of his trousers. He was painfully erect, and by your strangled little moans he could tell you could feel him.
You moved to kiss his neck, gently running your tongue against his skin before sucking it between your lips. He groaned as you began moving yourself against him at a faster pace. He felt delirious. Taking a deep breath he gripped your hips firmly and guided you to flip over so that your body was under his. He needed to feel you- after weeks of imagining he needed to taste you, to give you the pleasure you so deserved and more.
He kissed you deeply before moving to your neck, running his tongue along your flesh and humming at the delicate taste of you. You moaned when he grazed his teeth against your skin, your back arching into him. He pulled away to push up your skirt, inhaling sharply at the sight of the wet silk covering you. Kneeling between your legs he dipped his head to press a kiss to your pelvis. You brought yourself up on one arm, watching him in a daze as he kissed a trail to the dampened silk covering your wet core.
The scent of you was positively intoxicating, and the mewling gasps you made as he peppered kisses over your damp heat made his head spin. He looked up at you as he urged your hips upward, his fingers hooking under the band of your underwear and pulling them down your legs. He moved so he could slip them off of you, and you bit your lip before slowly opening your legs to him, your expression that of pure sin. He raised an eyebrow at you, swallowing hard as his eyes traced your pretty centre.
“Every inch of you is so lovely darling. Every inch.” He said before coming back between your legs, his hand coming to rest on your calf, his thumb running gently along your skin.
You grinned and reclined back on the blanket, your eyelashes fluttering. He bent forward, blowing a stream of air over your dripping slit, watching you writhe in response. He loved watching you move above him in anticipation but he couldn’t take it any longer- he needed to taste you.
Keeping his eyes locked with yours he bent his head to lightly lick a stripe up your folds, your mouth open as you watched. He groaned- you tasted divine. Using his hand to gently spread the soft hair away from your heat he licked then kissed your clitoris, and you arched your back fully off of the blanket, your fingers twisting in his locks.
He swirled his tongue over the little bud, your moans growing. He brought his other hand up to trace his fingertips in your slick before gently entering a finger within you, your soft heat gripping his digit. He curled his finger, moving it within you until he found the angle that made you cry out. Hitting that spot repeatedly, he continued licking and lightly nipping at your clitoris, your breathing heavy. Slick covered his finger, dripping down it to coat his palm as your arousal built. He slowly increased the speed of his movements in time with your breath, watching you come undone above him.
“God Loki-“ you cried, your back fully arching off the ground as you came for him, moaning as you writhed and rode out your pleasure. He continued his motions, slowly easing them as you came down from your high, your breath eventually returning to you. Slipping his finger from you, he pressed a final kiss to your skin before sitting back on his knees, licking his lips. You were smiling dazedly at him, though the lust was still thick in your gaze.
“I want to see you,” you said softly, lazily pulling at his rolled shirtsleeves. He smiled at you before slowly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulders, the warm air kissing his skin. Your eyes traced over his chest, his arms, his abdomen, darkening as you took him in.
He crawled over you, caging you in with his arms before bending to kiss you. He felt your fingers undoing your blouse below him and broke the kiss when you angled upwards to remove the fabric from yourself. He looked down at you and his brows drew together at the sight of the skin of your breasts, gently illuminated in the light.
“Lovely,” he whispered before coming back over you, angling himself so he could press his lips against the delicate skin above the satin of your brassiere. Your hands were moving along the top of his trousers, undoing his belt before the buttons of his fly. He felt your hands gently push his briefs down with his trousers, freeing his length. His eyes fluttered closed when you gripped him, your hand sliding along his heated skin.
Opening his eyes he moved his hands behind you to unhook the clasps keeping your skin from his. You let him pull the brassiere off of you, smiling shyly at him once your skin was exposed.
He dipped his head to press gentle kisses along the skin of your breast, “lovely,” he whispered, “you’re so absolutely lovely.” He looked up at you before taking your nipple in between his lips, gently running his tongue along it, and you arched against him, gasping lightly.
He went back to kissing your skin and you sighed, moving your hips against him, your wet folds gently brushing against the tip of him. He shuddered and took a breath before moving back up to look you in the eye. “Have you, ever-“ he felt his cheeks go red with his words, “have you… before? I don’t mind, I just don’t want to,” he let out a shaky breath, “hurt you.”
You smiled at him, and nodded. “Don’t worry, Loki. You won’t hurt me,” you bit your lip briefly before bringing your face up to kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip.
He was lost in you, so ready to take you, to feel you against him. But he suddenly remembered something and groaned. “Wait-“ he quickly got up, standing above you while holding a finger up, pulling his trousers back up over his hips. “Just one moment, I’m so sorry love, I’ll be right back.” He turned and swiftly ducked inside his home, to his water closet to get a condom from the medicine cabinet.
He scrambled back outside, the tin in hand. He stopped short when he saw you, laid out so beautifully on the blanket for him. He swallowed dryly before kneeling back before you, “I just thought we should be careful,” he said quickly, hoping he hadn’t just ruined everything.
You licked your lips, “thank you. Now please come here,” your voice held a touch of gravel as you eyed him, the slightest hint of a smirk playing at your lips. He felt himself twitch at that.
He nodded and pushed his trousers down before rolling the thin rubber over his length. Coming back over you he kept his eyes on yours while he lined himself up along your folds. Your mouth fell open as he slowly slid himself in- you felt absolutely heavenly, your heat gripping him with every inch. Once he was fully seated within you, he looked down at you, silently asking permission to move.
You nodded, as if in a trance, your breath coming out in short puffs. He kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he began to move his hips, setting a slow pace. Your fingers gripped his arm and pulled him closer to you, your chests pressed together and he moaned at the feel of you against him. He felt as if he were set ablaze, every part of him burning from your touch, your warmth, your scent, the way your hips slightly angled upwards to meet his thrusts.
He moved to the side of your neck, nipping and kissing at the skin there and you writhed under him. He pulled back, his arms coming around you to pull you up as he sat back, settling so you were on top of his lap. He kept his arms around you, running his hands against the skin of your back as he looked up at you. You bent to kiss him, lifting your hips to grind against him, and he let out a shaky groan as he held his pleasure at bay.
He wished he could keep you like this forever, so close to him, so absolutely divine. His head was spinning with your scent, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Moving one hand between you, he lightly brushed his thumb against your clitoris, moving in time with your hips. You broke the kiss to throw your head back, still moving your hips as his hungry eyes devoured the lovely sight of you riding him. His other hand moved from behind you to your breast, gently tugging at your nipple and you moaned in the most delicious way, your hips rocking against him faster and faster.
“Let go darling, let go with me. Oh-“ he was cut off when your muscles clenched and you came with a cry of his name, squeezing his length buried deep within you. He let go with that, feeling himself twitch within you as your hips stuttered against him, riding out your high. All he could hear was the combined sound of your laboured breaths as you both came back to each other. He settled back on his arms to watch you as your chest heaved, your head lazily rolling to the side as you gave him an exhausted smile.
He smiled back, and came up to press a kiss on your chest, his arms moving to hold you against him. You’d dipped your head to kiss his forehead as he rested against you. You held each other for a few moments before he let up on his grip so you could slide off of him. He slipped the condom off.
“Do you want to stay the night?” He asked, watching you slide on your undergarments.
“Hm. Not sure.” You put your finger to your lips in exaggerated thought. “Will there be breakfast in the morning?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.
“There will be whatever you want in the morning. Breakfast included.”
You broke out into a smile at that. “In that case, I’d love to.”
