Summary: As a newer recruit to the Avengers, Loki has been training you. But after you are injured and he pushes you too hard, he backs away. You soon realize that your feelings for him are more than professional.
Unexpected 💗🔥
Summary: As the personal assistant to the Avengers, you take your job very seriously. When Loki joins the Avengers, he challenges your line between business and pleasure.
Right Place, Right Time - Ongoing 💗🔥
Summary: When Loki saves your daughter, the bond you start to form takes you both by surprise.
Letters - 💔🔥
Summary: Writing everything down should help you process your feelings. Somehow it always turns into letters to him.
*****
Drabbles & One shots
Denial 💔
Summary: Steve has your heart, but Loki spurs something within you.
Stargazing 💔
Summary: You and Loki have been nothing more than friends in order to protect your heart. But when Thor makes an announcement, you realize your heart will break anyways.
Stargazing Part 2 🔥💔
Summary: Loki left earth (and you) to fulfill his duty and marry another. When he returns to Earth, you are torn with how to feel.
Choke 🔥
Summary: Loki almost killed you during the Battle of New York. You struggle when he returns.
Happy Thanksgiving 🔥
Summary: Thanksgiving comes with a few surprises you weren't expecting.
A Not So Lonely Christmas 💓
To Kill a God 🔥
Summary: The mission – Assassination of Loki Laufeyson.
STEVE ROGERS
Take Care of You 🔥💔
Summary: Steve Rogers seems to take care of everyone. But who takes care of him?
JOEL MILLER
Sweet Surrender 🔥
Summary: Joel is there to protect you & a bond grows. Boston QZ, no Tess/Ellie.
𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ
18+ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ
content/warnings: non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional manipulation, slow burn-ish, reader described as petite, dubcon elements (somewhat), explicit s*xual content, obsessive tendencies, explicit mentions of alcohol (if i'm forgetting something please lmk)
word count: 13.2k (total across both parts)
a/n: this is two weeks of brainrot about this concept that ended up waaay longer than anticipated, and if people enjoy i def plan on writing more
There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life.
All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.
The reflection in the tall store mirror looks like a mirage—an almost tangible fantasy. It’s you enough, your eyes, nose, skin and hair. But the fabric wrapped around your body, a breath-taking sanguine hue, it distorts your perception.
You stood in silence, captivated by your own self-reflection. A delicate diamond necklace adorned your neck, its shimmer accentuating the sparkle in your eyes. You touch it delicately, as if trying to make the woman in the mirror feel real.
In a fleeting moment, you try not to think about the price tag on either item. Below you, the dress slits at your right thigh, stopping perfectly just before your ankles. You typically abhor dresses, frustrated by how they sit on your hips or pull on your shoulders. Yet this one felt different, as it had been crafted just for you, hugging your short frame.
“Do you not like it?” Tony's firm voice interrupted your reverie, seated in a plush armchair nestled in the corner of the dressing area.
His own reflection caught your eye in the mirror. He too impeccably dressed in expense— a midnight suit that mirrored the shadowy desire in his eyes. It was only then that you noticed the crimson tie around his neck, perfectly matched to your dress. The forgotten pit in your stomach sinks further at the realization.
You weren’t here exactly by choice. You’d met Tony a few weeks ago while bartending and since then, he hadn’t left you alone. Initially, he had left his phone number scrawled on a napkin, which you promptly ignored. Such advances from inebriated, lonesome men were all too familiar— their attempts at wooing the bartender often aimed at securing complimentary drinks or borne from relationship troubles that had led them to the bar in the first place.
They all normally moved on after one night, but not Tony.
Tony came back three nights in a row after, making pass after pass, calling you doll and honey through whiskey-tinted lips. You had been polite in declining him, partly because you had googled him after his $300 tip on the second night and realized who he was (some hot-shot CEO with a few legal issues you chose not to look into). But also because, against your better judgment, a small, insignificant part of you didn't want to decline. His appearance in the bar made your night infinitely more enjoyable. Funny enough, you’re certain his charisma was so enigmatic it spread the room and raised everyone’s mood.
Unlike your typical patrons, Tony possessed an undeniable allure, an allure that kept you talking and pouring drinks, well past closing time. Perhaps because your usual patrons didn't leave extravagant tips or wear thousand-dollar watches. More likely, was how easy it was to talk to him about anything. Local politics, the nature of friendship, European art- it didn’t matter.
On top of it all, there was no denying how attractive he was—towering over you with silk ties and shiny grins. Despite whatever attraction you held, you knew better than to get involved with him. Something told you it wasn’t worth the trouble, not to mention he was almost 20 years your senior.
Still, every night ended the same, with Tony insisting he take you on just one date. You’d give a kind smile, flip the sign to closed, and craft a polite but convoluted (and reluctant) excuse. This passive resistance only seemed to encourage him, possibly because he saw through you, recognizing that tiny part of you that longed to say yes.
Maybe it’s what gave him carte blanche to wait outside on the fourth night until you closed the bar—alone.
As you stepped into the cool night air, a sleek black car glided to a halt beside you. You thought nothing of it, locking the door behind you and starting your usual, albeit long, trek home. You glanced back at the sound of the passenger window rolling down, revealing Tony leaning over the center console, a playful smile on his face. Quieting the alarm bells in your head, you offered a curt wave and resumed your stride.
As you do, Tony calls out your name, gesturing you over. At the time, you hoped all he wanted to do was exchange some small talk or maybe he left something in the bar yesterday. You couldn't fathom why you obeyed, heading towards the open window instead of heading home. Just like now, Tony's true intentions were murky and unknown. You convinced yourself that the worst he could do was ask you out again and make things awkward.
“Miss me?” he asks with that same flashy grin. His gaze roams over your simple jeans and t-shirt, heavy enough to make you feel exposed.
“Everything okay?” You choose to ignore his question to hopefully get to the reason he’s here after hours.
Under the parking lot’s harsh fluorescent lights, Tony's disappointment shines.
"Everything's fine," he replied in a sing-song tone, reaching across to open the passenger door. "Come on, let me give you a ride home."
The alarm bells grow louder, leaving you to stammer over your words.
“That’s generous, thank you, but I enjoy the walk.” A good lie holds a little truth to it, right?
Tony does a disapproving, almost condescending tsk, patting the empty leather seat.
“Now, what kind of guy would I be if I let a pretty girl like you walk home all alone?”
Despite the rhetorical nature of his question, you struggled to resist the urge to retort, to point out that allowing you to walk home alone would make him appear rather ordinary—a quality he clearly sought to avoid.
“Really, I’m fine, thank you.” You try to sound more assertive this time, but your voice still wavers under his gaze.
Tony continues to insist, using every persuasion tactic in the book. Your mind whirled with a flurry of thoughts and possibilities. After all, he was a familiar face, a regular patron who had never made you necessarily afraid (normally quite the opposite). And a highly respected businessman. Eight hours of tending bar left your feet aching. You liked the solemnity of the long walk, but tonight you were dreading it a bit more than usual.
What was the worst that could happen?
So, you inevitably gave in, watching his smirk stretch into another toothy grin as you opened the passenger door. Tony’s cologne saturated the plush leather interior, filling every corner of your nostrils with bergamot. In the dim car, you gave a meek smile in return.
“That’s my girl,”
There’s an edge in his words, suddenly forcing you to wonder if you were better off walking. You tell yourself he’s a handsome billionaire doing his charitable act for the week-nothing more. Tony reaches for the gearshift, rolling your window up and muffling the sounds of the city.
“Let’s get you home.”
The worst turned out to be not so bad- still in unbelievable awe at your appearance.
At first, you were nearly mortified when you noticed Tony’s route doesn’t follow the directions you gave. With a dry throat and skipping heart, you stammered for words. Tony had remained unusually silent, not making witty quips or heavy-handed compliments. It swelled your unease. One he must have sensed, glancing over at you.
“Don’t worry,” he draws out in a singing tone, making yet another unknown turn. “I’m taking you home- just have a surprise for you first, dear.” he finishes, winking.
The vulnerability you knew you had—getting in this car alone with him—you were regretting it.
Now, you stared at that same throat, adorned with shimmering diamonds.
Tony’s surprise turned out to be a private fitting at some lavish boutique you never knew existed.
You tried to protest as the car pulled into the storefront, noticing a lack of light inside and still cautious about what he had planned. Tony simply gave you a stern shush, and pointed your attention back to the building. Then, to your astonishment, the windows filled with orange and white hue. Out of the ornate glass doors, a tall, blonde-haired woman peered, and a wave of fear suddenly ebbed away from your body, only to be replaced by a flood of bewildering confusion.
The blonde woman, whose name you can’t pronounce, devotes a half hour measuring every aspect of your body. She swatched an array of dark hues and fabrics against your skin, contorted and posed you in every conceivable manner. Despite the weird, yet so far, non-hazardous situation you were in, a cloud of confusion still clung to your thoughts, while Tony remained outside the dressing room. And you felt entirely too exposed, you waited anxiously. Your only recourse was to gaze at the marble ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell Tony was playing at. He wasn’t particularly eccentric all those nights at your bar, he had to be more level-headed and reasonable than this.
The woman eventually reappeared, holding the tight red dress on a satin hanger.
Leading to your mesmerized trance, still engulfed in the mirage before you.
“Hey, talking to you there.”
Startled, you had forgotten he'd even asked you a question. Hell, you had forgotten he brought you here at all. Worse, you didn’t know what to say. The honest answer was an unequivocal yes – you adored the dress, but you knew alone it cost more than you ever made bartending, not to mention the necklace.
The pit in your stomach churned at the reminder of Tony’s presence. The beauty you saw in the mirror suddenly felt ill-gotten- like a bill you hadn’t paid. Technically, you were brought here against your will by a man who you, although reluctantly, rejected. An unforeseen product of his infectious smile and your polite demeanor.
You reluctantly turn slightly to face him, trying to find the words to get out of this without escalation. A shiver ran down your spine as his molten gaze traversed your form, causing your face to warm.
“I think you look stunning.” he says, gaze still fixed on your body. It wasn’t unusual for Tony to compliment you, as he often did at the bar regardless of whatever tired, stained state you were in. This time though, with the way he’s staring, it does something else to you.
“Thank you, but,” you trail off, stealing a quick glance back in the mirror. “I–It’s a bit out of my price range.”
Tony scoffs playfully, giving a dismissive wave as he rises from the armchair.
“It’s on me.” he declared, slow and deliberate as your nerves spike.
“Really, thank you, but I can’t accept this. I should be getting home.” you stammered, attempting to keep a level voice.
Your words tumbled out in a rush, but Tony continued, making your heartbeat escalate with each passing moment.
To your surprise, he stops his advance to sigh at your anxious form.
“You are worth a million times that dress and more.”
You avert your eyes to the floor, left again without the right words to maneuver out of this awkward conversation and try to ignore the heat on your skin.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, doll.” Tony’s voice shifts to an unfamiliar tone, one that forces your head up.
“What’s with the whole ‘uninterested’ act?” he says, resuming his walk towards you.
You stammer, trying to deny his accusation, knowing wholeheartedly he was right. Tony came to a stop in front of you, reaching out to caress your shoulder. As you instinctively recoil from his sudden touch, his calloused hand stiffened to hold you in place.
“I’m not acting.” you finally manage with a wavering voice valiantly ignoring the want and fear his touch stirred in you.
“Oh, is that so?” he taunts sourly, bringing his free hand to your waist. “Why’d you get in the car then? Why are you letting me touch you?”
You don’t have an excuse for that one, staring back at Tony in silence. You could try and hate his arrogance, but that hasn't worked so far, so no point trying now.
“Just take me home, okay?” you whisper, eyes flickering between Tony’s hand and his slightly parted lips.
He makes a face at your words, eyebrows scrunching and mouth turning into frown.
“You think I’d hurt you?” Tony sighs, offended. He releases your arm out of his grasp and steps back from you. Still, he maintains the closeness between you, still locked on your eyes.
Instantly, you feel terrible for assuming the worst. Sure, you didn’t exactly ask for any of this, and maybe he was persistent, but all he had done was give you a dress and a ride home. Tony had ample opportunity to do whatever he wanted, and you were fine. And nothing he’d said had been wrong. So what exactly were you worried about?
“No, no,” you quickly scramble, shaking your head. “I just—what do you want from me?”
Tony sighs again, this time deeply, shoving his hands into his suit pockets. “Told you—a date, that’s all.”
“Really? You’re really doing all this just to take me out?” You asked in confusion.
“You keep saying no even though I can tell you want to. ‘Figured you could use a little push.” He chuckles and a hand leaves his pockets to rake through his brown locks.
“I-I, why all this, really, come on-what are you playing at here?” You gesture to your outfit, still in disbelief.
“What can I say, I’m all about presentation and you deserve the best.” Tony grins, making his second attempt to stroke your cheek. This time, you let him, even if you're not sure why. Maybe persistence did work best on you.
Regardless, you roll your eyes at the honeyed words. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s still waiting for a yes , and you’re running out of logical reasons to decline. God knows the idea of a date with Tony Stark was something any other woman would jump at. So why not you?
“I work nights, Tony—”
“How much?” He cuts you off sharply, the hand on your face tenses ever so slightly.
“What, I don’t—”
“How much do you make in a night? Hourly, tips, everything. How much?”
You’re starting to think he enjoys confusing you. “I don’t know, it varies. Maybe $200 on a good night?”
With that, Tony turns back to the armchair his jacket rests on, and you have to ignore the way the loss of his touch makes you feel. He fiddles with the garment for a moment, rummaging through the pockets until he produces a thin leather wallet. As five crisp hundred dollar bills emerge, he struts back to you.
“Here, now you can call in tomorrow night.” He says matter-of-factly, holding out the bills.
You scoff at his audacity, feeling a bit offended at his demeanor. “I’m not some product you can just buy.”
“Oh, doll, don’t think so low of yourself.” He chuckles, “Your time is valuable, I’m just hoping this makes it easier for you to spend it with me.”
The paper is folded between his fingers, before he takes your hand and places them inside. When in doubt, fall back to basics. Money normally fixes most problems. You could have said any number and he would’ve made it happen. He was nothing short of infatuated with you- no cost was too high.
“Fine.” You respond indignantly, staring at what’s easily half of your rent before glaring back up at him. If a date was all he wanted-fine. If he turned out to be a huge dick, you could leave and never speak to him again. You're certain he at least wouldn’t keep showing up at your workplace after.
“We’ll see how much longer you can keep up this act.” He smirks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
Just as you're preparing to tell (lie) him again that you weren’t pretending, he walks back to the chair and takes a seat, pulling his phone from his pants pocket.
“Go ahead and change, I’ll have everything wrapped up for you to take home tonight. You can be ready by 7 tonight, yes?” Tony doesn’t look at you when he speaks, fingers typing away on the electronic screen.
He misses the eye roll you give walking back to the dressing room.
Sure enough, you make it home without any bodily injuries or traumatic experiences. Tony kisses your hand when you go to exit the car, dress and jewelry in tow. He reminds you to be ready on time tomorrow, and you enter your apartment feeling like you just walked out of a movie.
This felt entirely too insane. You found yourself more than lucky all those nights he flirted with you, but this took the cake.
It’s nearly 5 in the morning when you toss the dress onto your green couch. The half-finished canvas and paintbrushes in the corner of your living room go abandoned for the night. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to do anything, replaying every detail in your head. Instead, you find yourself sat on the worn cushions, staring at the lilac bag, adorned with the boutique’s fancy name in silver lettering. Next to it, sits a smaller version, possessing a white box. You’re fixated on the bags, mentally picturing your reflection from earlier.
Contrary to what might Tony believe, you didn’t think of yourself as ‘low’, just not genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist levels, though. Self-confidence wasn’t something you were lacking, but it wasn't in extreme surplus either. You didn’t know his type, but you figured odds are you weren’t it. You could imagine the kinds of girls Tony could get, with a lot less hassle, too. So, why you?
Eventually, the sounds of your roommate waking fills the apartment, forcing you to realize it’s around 6:30 and your mind’s been taken over with purple and red hues for too long. You give a short good morning and abandon the couch for the comfort of your bedroom, deciding to save the shower for later and get some sort of rest.
You don’t answer when she asks about the bags, convinced you’ll wake up in a few hours and find this was all a weird dream.
The train rushing by your window wakes you before your alarm gets the chance, blaring its incessant tune throughout the small space. The afternoon sun diffuses through the sheer curtains, covering the room in golden light. It gives you a peaceful few minutes where you’re groggy enough to forget about Tony.
Then, the memories pour in.
The night plays back in resplendence. You don’t know he managed to get you to agree after all that. A tinge of excitement filled you alongside the dread.
You hoped last night for it to all turn out as fiction, but lo behold, the shiny bags sit atop your dresser like a bad omen. Poking out from your purse are the crisp bills. A cursory glance at your phone reveals two things— one, it’s almost 4 pm and two, a text from an unsaved number.
[ hope you didn’t forget. see u soon. ]
You wondered where on Earth he got your number.
As much as you hated feeling you owed him something, a part of you was glad you did. Although you didn’t plan on admitting it, you were into him. You were just convinced his behavior was too good to be true, a precursor to something worse. Plus it bugged you that it was apparently impossible for you to hide it from him.
Nonetheless, you rise from your bed, heading for the shower you skipped earlier and thinking of a response.
[ 9 pm right? ]
The bathroom door creaked as it opened, drowned out by the traffic on the street below.
[ are you this difficult with everyone? ]
Water spouts from the shower head as a dry chuckle echoes in the chamber at his response. You hadn’t actively dated in a while, but it was a common complaint. Normally they would say stubborn or strong-headed, but difficult worked too.
You work through several different waves of nerves and anticipation as the clock ticks down to 7. Your boss, ever an asshole, wasn’t thrilled about you calling off. It almost made you reconsider, tell Tony you couldn’t. Something told you he wouldn’t appreciate that, though, so you stood your ground with your boss instead of him and got the night off.
When the time came to slip the red dress on again, you felt off. At the store, the lighting and lavish background only added to your beauty. In the dim, run-down atmosphere of your apartment, you’re out of place, like a fraud. The browns and greens drown the shimmer on your neckline, reminding you that you had no business dating someone like Stark.
Your mind’s saving grace is the buzz of your phone, a text from the punctual Tony, arriving right at 6:58.
You expected the veil to be pulled from your eyes. Tony’s true nature, whatever that may be, would be revealed and all his charm would fade away. Clearly, something was wrong with him to go after some bartender, to go after you. The date would go sour, he would move on, and your life could continue as planned.
Instead, you end up having one of the best nights of your life.
The restaurant is indescribably out of your depth. It’s clearly a popular romantic site for A-listers, with mostly couples filling the warmly lit dining area. Everything seemed meticulously prearranged— the host leading you two towards a tucked away booth just at the sight of Tony. You're worried he’d be overly touchy and make you uncomfortable, but instead his hand rests against the small of your back as you navigate to your table.
He was nothing short of a perfect gentleman, pulling out your chair and pouring your wine. Conversation flowed just as it did at work, at least once you got your nerves out of the way. You learned a bit more about Stark Industries, even though he was clearly skipping some details for reasons you were too enamored to think about.
Occasionally during the dinner, people would come up and exchange a few words with Tony, and he always introduced you. There was something about the level of attention that just pulled you in. You had started to think you were overthinking this whole thing, that maybe something nice could come out of this. If wooing you was the goal, he was well on his way to success.
As the final bites of dessert lingered on your plate, a subtle disappointment crept in, acknowledging the inevitable conclusion of the evening. It had been an embarrassingly long time since you'd gone out for a night like this, and you wished you’d agreed sooner.
The idea of shedding the vibrant sanguine dress and returning to the routine of crafting dry martinis the next night sounded more dreadful than ever.
Yet, that’s exactly what you did.
-
When Tony drives back and walks you to your apartment door, you half-hope he’ll ask you on another date, and half-fear he’ll try and make a move. To your surprise and disappointment he does neither, opting instead to tell you what a wonderful time he had before departing.
You feel a bit foolish for expecting anything more, closing your door with a heavy sigh. Your roommate seems to read your emotions on your face, deciding it best not to ask why you were dressed like that.
The remaining hours of the night pass with you getting ready for bed and staving off sleep to not wake too early for work. Every so often, the urge overwhelms you to see if Tony texted. Teeth brushed— no text, shower—nothing, late night popcorn snack—nope. Every time you look, you grow more annoyed, feeling like some sort of teenage schoolgirl.
By the time your head hits the pillow, you’re close to desperation.
When you wake, it doesn’t take a few minutes for Tony to come to mind. He’s the first thing you think of. You groan in frustration when your notifications disappoint you again. Two texts from your roommate about her night out, a missed call from a friend, and a few emails, but no Tony.
You really do try to make it through the afternoon without thinking about him. You fail regardless, spending every second of the day consumed by bergamot and red. The one thing that keeps you from reaching out first is the certainty you’ll see him this evening. He’ll saunter in, order a single malt and overpay. The script unfolds in your mind—engaging conversations that span the night, and it’ll end with another pass made your way. This time, you won’t hesitate to say yes.
The hours at work tick by painfully as you wait for him to show up. For the first time, you’re doing terribly at work. Wrong servings are poured as your eyes bounce between the bar's entrance and the mocking hands of the clock.
Inevitably, you switch the sign to closed. A sliver of hope remains, hinged on the small chance he could appear outside as he did before. And still, he doesn’t.
Self-doubt starts to overtake you. Maybe you said the wrong thing, or did something abnormal that made him suddenly change course.
Once you're home, your resolve breaks, and you open the messages app in an act of desperation.
[ thanks again for the other night ]
As soon as you hit send, you’re convinced it’s single-handedly the stupidest text ever sent. Before you can think of what to add on to repair it, your phone buzzes.
[ not a problem ]
[ i had a good time, nice place ]
[ miss me already huh ]
[ who said anything about that? ]
[ thought you weren’t interested, but look whos texting me ]
[ yeah, to say thx ]
[ you said that when i dropped you off. gonna have to try harder doll ]
How did someone so arrogant manage to have you swooned?
[ fine. maybe i did. ]
[ see, was that so hard? ]
With a huff, you crawl into bed. You weren’t the romantic type by any measure. Your romantic philosophy entailed waiting for the right person to come into your life. Naturally, you assumed what everyone said was true- that’d you know the one when you saw it. In the case of Tony, it wasn't a lightning-strike love at first sight, but rather a rapid realization that there was an intangible something about him. Excluding the early worries over his intentions, he spread this sense of ease throughout you whenever he was around.
On Tony’s side, it was more akin to obsession at first sight. He’d had decades of escapades under his belt, all incomparable to you. A limited edition, one of a kind, breathtaking woman he knew he couldn’t let slip away.
You were a fresh breath of air in his world of tragedy. People in his sphere were usually tainted by it, but not you. You didn’t have some preconceived, inflated notion of him. He was happy to recognize the mutual attraction. Unfortunately for him, you being from outside of his world meant losing you if you found the wrong information at the wrong time.
He felt you deserved a life without the grime and troubles of everyone else. He just knew that’d only be possible with him. He just had to keep a few things from you for a little while. Long enough for you to be too committed to leave.
Tony learned at a young age that planning is the key to everything, so that’s precisely what he does.
The lack of interaction was a purposeful step on his part, only partially. There was little fun in biting back the urge to talk to you again, to kiss you goodbye at the door, but he knew it was the best method to have you hooked. Originally, he meant to visit the bar once more tonight, see if your face brightened up when he walked in. That plan is foiled by an unmovable meeting, which keeps him occupied until close. You just happened to beat him to the text.
For you, the date served as a testament that he wasn't some idealized, too-good-to-be-true fantasy. It wasn't a dream; it was a tangible reality and you found yourself unwilling to let it slip away. The initial worries had given way to what you prayed was something genuine, and as you settled into the comforting warmth of your bed, you knew that this was something you needed to pursue.
[ so do u often take people on one date then ghost or is it just me? ]
[ doll, i don’t bore myself or waste my time with people i don’t enjoy. ]
[ i’m sure there’s better options for you ]
[ not better than you ]
[ hows that? ]
[ i’ll tell you if you agree to see me again ]
In the dark of your room, the message illuminates your face, stirring the anticipation in your gut. This is what you wanted, the perfect opportunity.
[ deal. ]
-
From then on, you and Tony find yourselves going out a few times each week. Whether it's another intimate dinner or museum, Tony consistently showers you in gifts—ranging from exquisite jewelry to coveted concert tickets. He makes jokes about making even more grandiose gestures, like moving you to a better neighborhood or getting you a car so you don’t have to walk home at night. Despite the overwhelming generosity, you can't help but feel weird at the unfamiliarity of it all, lamenting that they aren’t necessary (though you never admit how much you were beginning to love it).
Nonetheless, Tony remains steadfast in reassuring you, emphasizing that the smile on your face is worth any amount. There’s little doubt to this, given he hasn’t made a move beyond kissing your cheek a few times. You’d like to thing someone with ill-intentions would move a bit faster.
His charismatic nature continues, enveloping you in a world of affection and companionship beyond your wildest expectations. He treats better than you could ever fathom, and asks for seldom in return. Stark handles every detail, every direction providing you with much needed mental relief.
The thing you’re most grateful for is the ease of it all. It’s easy to indulge in him, to agree to his few, but necessary stipulations (don’t spend my money poorly, answer when I call, be honest with me, etc. etc.) They were much milder, and more enjoyable, than ones you had in past relationships. Your most recent ex? He’d ask for a photo of your timecard from work, paranoid you were sleeping around.
However, it takes a while for you to shake off the nagging suspicion that he’s just playing the long game. Your relationships had often ended in emotional horror for at least one side, and you dreaded a repeated end. Gradually, though, you feel more secure, even as he pulls you more and more out of your comfort zone.
Although it didn’t really help you understand where his money came from, he brought you along to company dinners and fundraisers. These outings, while a testament to the serious nature of his work, become less enjoyable for you. Tony’s line of work seemingly employs nothing but the most annoying of the 1%.
He has a terrible habit for making you feel like (and dress you like) fine art. Yet, amid a room of stunning women with envious glares directed at you and Tony, you feel like second-rate trash, despite the arm draped on his meant to signify your belonging. It didn’t help that at the end of the day you and Tony never put a name to what you were, and you had no idea who was with when you were apart.
It doesn’t harm the connection too much for you, but it does lead to your first argument after a blissful first month.
Truthfully, it’s mostly your fault. You’d gotten a bit more than jealous at some socialites' snide remarks about Tony being with someone so young and ‘rudimentary’, as she deemed. You blame the alcohol for tossing your drink in her face. Tony had warned you before about keeping positive appearances, but oh well. Vodka has a tendency to do nefarious things.
The entire car ride back, Tony gets a number of phone calls, leaving you the sinking feeling you’ve angered the wrong person. There’s something semi-terrifying on every inch of his face as he talks in terms you don’t understand. The calls don’t stop until long after you make it back to the tower. You’re seated on a leather couch in his office, anxiously preparing your explanation for what happened.
At the end of what he hopes is the last call, he turns to you. The look in his eye disintegrates whatever words you had mustered together.
“What were you thinking?” he asks harshly, but with a low tone as if he’s trying not to sound as pissed as he truly was.
“Tony, I didn’t think it would-”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, holding his hand up in a quieting manner. There’s a few beats of silence, where you’re wretched with guilt, not even knowing fully what you did wrong.
“My associates are not people to mess with, honey. You need to be able to control yourself. Your little show almost ruined a deal I’ve been working on for months.”
“My little show? You didn’t hear what she was saying and how was I supposed to know-”
“That’s my mistake for expecting you to have thicker skin than that.” Tony reprimands, his eyes reflecting an anger that leaves a mixed feeling in your gut. .
“You’re right, next time a woman starts talking about how better off you’d be with someone else, I’ll go ahead and give them your number. God knows you live for the fucking attention.” you retort, tears of frustration burning in the back of your eyes as you stand to head for the elevator.
Tony moves from his spot in the middle of the room to cut you off, blocking your path out.
“If you’re gonna act like a jealous brat, at least have the guts to admit it. Don’t try and make it about me.” His voice keeps its edge, standing close enough to force you to look up to meet his eyes.
He’d never been so much as annoyed by you, and the anger in his dark irises was unbearable. Behind the darkness is something else, a heat that trails down your lips. Still, the sourness in the room is enough to make you repentant.
“I,” you sigh, averting his eyes to stare at your heels. “I’m sorry, okay?” Your voice is small and shameful under his gaze.
Tony’s hand meets the bottom of your chin, tugging your head back up.
“Look at me.” he says sternly, and you’re reminded of the boutique that feels lightyears in the past. The touch twists your shame cruelly into a tight knot.
At the sight of your watering eyes, his expression softens. A flared temper had been a life-long condition, but his last wish was letting it off on you. There was something about the way you underestimate your value to him, it makes him want to stop holding back- show you just how badly he needed you. He’d done a piss poor job of keeping you isolated from this side of his life, but it couldn’t be undone, and you needed to be able to handle it. And a sobering part of you knew you were overreacting, at least a little bit.
“You can never do something like this again, are we clear?”
You nod, taking a deep breath. A calloused thumb strokes your face, rendering every word he said null.
“That’s my girl.”
It reassured you that this had to be a one-off situation-a unique, heat of the moment event that caused everyone to act out of character, not just him.
In the morning, the full weight of his words hits you like a brick wall. You do a bit of mental gymnastics on yourself, flipping between blaming yourself for Tony’s reaction and blaming him for behavior. Ultimately, at the battle’s end, you let the blame reside with you.
The next few weeks are a return to your new normalcy, turning any thoughts of ending things unnecessary. Aside from that night, Tony’s allure didn't stop, and it became safe to say you were falling, rapidly. You texted and called nearly constantly whenever you weren’t together, not that Tony seemed to mind at all (it helped that he was never far from his phone). It was clear Tony did all he could to make your outings last longer, but eventually one of you (typically Tony) absolutely has to head home.
You’re left with a somber emptiness every time, waiting to see Tony to feel whole again. The level of care you were showered in was, well, addictive. There was enough to ignore the ambiguity surrounding whatever your relationship was, and what his life was like outside of you. Trust wasn’t exactly your strong suit, so an occasional strife happens whenever you think about it too long. It still tested his patience, and resolve, irately wishing you’d take him at his word just once.
Something poetic could be said about rose-colored glasses and red flags.
One spring night, the rain grows far beyond what Tony’s outdoor plans can accommodate. Not wanting to cancel, he moves the date to an art gallery. There’s no hiding your excitement, and Tony expected as much. He was saving this location for another time, but you sound far too happy on the phone to regret it.
Unsurprisingly, the night goes just as fantastic as any other with Tony. You loved art in nearly any form, and dreamed of creating pieces worthy of hanging in a gallery. This one though, is unlike any you’ve ever seen, a high-ceiling bright open space, with prices starting in the six figures.
They’re all worth the price to you, elaborate shapes and colors sitting in huge antique frames. Like any other night, he occasionally slips away for a phone call, or you’ll turn to see him typing away another email or memo. It’s not frequent enough to bother you, and either way you accept it as an occupational hazard of seeing someone like him. Besides, you were too busy enjoying the art to care.
Tonight though, you feel bold enough to dig into it.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Tony pocket his phone for the fourth time in a half hour, striding back over to you with a grin. You were transfixed by the painting in front you, having stared at it for the last fifteen minutes. It was a mirage of playful colors, swirling and fading down to a dusky abyss. Two faint abstract shapes floated in the gradient, seemingly intertwined and bursting outwards. You’re certain Tony will give you grief for fawning over what probably looked like kindergarten work.
“I could just buy it for you, then you could stare at it all day.” he taunts once he’s in ear shot, looping his arm through yours.
You laugh back at him, resuming your slow stride through the rest of the quiet gallery.
“It’s like eight feet tall, no way it’s making it up my stairs in one piece.” you laugh, “You absolutely have to buy something for yourself, though. Something that, y’know, inspires you.” you say playfully, stopping to get a better look at another piece.
“You are the only muse I need.”
He plants a kiss on your forehead when you roll your eyes at his saccharinity, letting you slip away. You really were all the motivation he needed, especially if you kept wearing tight black skirts like the one you're wearing now. When you finally turn back to him, his hands are occupied again, typing away incessantly.
“What kind of company do you run that they can’t survive without you for a few hours?” you taunted playfully. You’d idly clicked your heels on the dark stone floor, studying the machinations of his face, trying to get a sense of what transpired in his head.
The phone is switched off in his hands, abandoned in his pocket before beaming at you.
“A very important one.” he drawls, circling the soft skin behind your exposed collarbone with his fingertips. The padded digits trail around in random shapes, inkling up your neck slowly.
“But I have recently taken on a new,” Tony pauses, still drawing northward to caress your face. “-endeavor, that’s requiring a lot of attention right now.”
“A new endeavor?” You really try to act interested, but his touch sends shivers down your back. A subtle graze on the soft corner of your mouth becomes the most sensual touch in the past two months (and you weren’t expecting it here of all places). You, permanently apprehensive of scaring him off, never made a move to progress things physically, no matter how much you thought about it.
He says something else your brain can’t be bothered to process, giving a final circle on your cheek before meeting your eyes. “But, my attention should be on you, honey.”
Your mouth is suddenly painfully dry, clearing your throat before responding with a forced laugh.
“You’re fine, I was just prying.”
Tony reassures you softly, “Nothing wrong with that.” giving you one of those toothy smiles that makes your head a bit light, especially with his closeness. “But only if you listen when I answer.”
You chuckle at being discovered, shaking your head slightly.
“Sorry, zoned out for a second.”
“Well, doll, you missed an invitation to Los Angeles, gonna have to pass that on to someone else I’m afraid.”
He shrugs his shoulders defeatedly when you scoff and swat his shoulder.
“Had you been listening, you would have heard that I’ve just been made partner in new company, and there’s supposedly a very nice celebration happening this weekend.”
It takes a beat for you to fully process the short time frame.
“So, you should definitely come.” The matter-of-fact tone he uses breaks your stunned state with a laugh.
“Unlike you I cannot just go to California for a weekend-”
“Aht!” He intercepts, smiling. “I recall two hours ago, a certain someone told me she was off Friday and Sunday, therefore, you can just go to L.A., this one weekend.”
Now, that was very true, and put you in quite the predicament, stammering at his growing smile until you finally found an excuse.
“I don’t have a valid ID.” you say proudly, crossing your arms.
“I have a private plane.” he responds pointedly.
“I’m terrified of airplanes.”
“That’s a lie.” he laughed, resting his hands on your hips. “What is the problem with taking a trip with me? Is it LA? Cause I can just ask for it to be moved-”
“No, no,” you gave a disheartened laugh and sighed, “It’s just, I don’t know, a lot?”
“California’s pretty normal these days-”
“Okay, okay. Just what is your end goal here? With all this?” The incessant question in the back of your head, which you hoped didn’t cause another instant implosion.
“What do you mean?” Unbeknownst to you, Tony knew precisely what you meant, from the countless conversations, and had a very concrete answer, but there was some enjoyment in stonewalling you.
“I mean you’re always trying to do insane things like trying to fly me across the country but you haven’t even so much as kissed me getting kind of confused-”
“Would kissing you get you to go to L.A. with me?” Tony cuts off your exasperated tangent, laughing softly.
You roll your eyes, bracing your arms by your side, preparing to walk away. Tony senses he might benefit from a moment of seriousness and stops you with a hand on your wrist and quick spoken apologies.
“Having you on my arm is more than enough for me, doll. If you want more, that’s up to you.” This was by no means new information to you. He’d given similar reassurances to you, none which seemed to ease you for long.
“So, answer the question, would that get you to go?” Tony pushes, leaning towards you.
“Probably.” You wish he didn’t have this effect on you so easily, but the words barely manage to register above a whisper.
For your admission, you're rewarded with the taste of bourbon on your lips as his hand abandons your arm to rest under your chin. His teeth graze the skin of your bottom lip, stubble tickling your chin. When he pulls away, he can’t help smirking at your dazed look. Really, Tony dreamed of doing a lot with you, but saw no need to rush. Especially since every light touch so far left you a flustered mess.
“We’ll leave early Friday morning, you can sleep on the plane, sound good?”
You don’t have a reason to protest anymore.
After Tony drops you off, he decides to get something for future you. The colorful painting finds a new home, wrapped in an empty room at the tower, shelves lined with blank canvases and jars of paint.
Summary: Thanksgiving comes with a few surprises you weren't expecting.
Warnings: Shameless smut. 18+ only.
A/N: Sooo I got a little carried away with my 100 word drabble and turned it into a 1500 word one shot. Bwahaha, I'm not even sorry 😈 Happy Thanksgiving *muah*
Most of the team hadn't experienced a good Thanksgiving most of their lives, with Natasha's lack of a normal family life, Steve growing up poor, and Tony's father working more than sitting down for a family meal. The Asgardian brothers certainly had many extravagant meals, but there was something special about a home cooked meal among friends that felt like family and made with love. Instead of a traditional Thanksgiving meal, you asked everyone what their favorite recipes were, promising an assortment of delicious dishes they would never forget.
Thanksgiving dinner went off without many hitches, nothing you couldn't handle. "Lady y/n," Thor said in between bites at one head of the table. "I haven't had a great meal like this since our last banquet in Asgard."
You beamed, taking a sip of wine that Tony had brought for the occasion. The hand on your knee made you pause mid-sip, but you didn't dare turn your head.
"Indeed, quite delicious." Loki's hand inched a little further up your leg, body starting to tremble slightly from nerves. When his palm was mid-thigh, you reached down to grip his hand. He chuckled quietly to himself, loving to watch you squirm under his touch, with his looks, with his words.
"Anyone ready for dessert and coffee?"
You left the table a little shaken, hating the way he made you tremble so easily. Taking a breath, you started the coffee and pulled a few pies out of the fridge.
"Need some help?" He crossed his arms, leaning up against the door frame as he watched you cut the pie into slices.
"You aren't seriously offering to help in the kitchen," you scoffed, trying to focus on plating the dessert instead of the literal god in front of you.
"Who said anything about helping in the kitchen?" He drew a finger across the top of the whipped cream you made earlier, bringing it to his mouth. He watched you intently and lowered his voice. "But I do think you could use my assistance with a few things."
Against your better judgment, you looked up, those wolfish eyes telling you more than you wanted to know, how much he would like you to submit to him, how much he wanted to devour you.
"You seem very tense, y/n." The warmth of his palm was felt through your shirt and you gripped onto the edge of the counter as his fingers slowly trailed up your spine. "I have a few things in mind to help you relax."
He watched as the pulse in your neck thumped incessantly.
In the other room, you heard Natasha call out, "Hey y/n, you need some help in there?"
"No," you weakly yelled back. "Be right there."
He tilted your chin, drawing your eyes to his. Dragging his thumb in the whipped cream, he brought it up to your lips. He raised an eyebrow and your mouth parted, allowing him entrance. "Such a good girl."
The whipped cream sucked off his thumb, he pulled it out of your mouth with a pop, then went over to the filled coffee pot to take it out to the waiting group, leaving you a little dazed as to what just happened.
"Y/n, I'm gonna need to run extra laps if you keep feeding us like that." Steve leaned back in his chair to adjust his pants.
You stood to start gathering plates. "I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. Thank you for humoring me."
"Put the plates down, we'll take care of the rest." You smiled as Bruce and Steve went on clean up duty, washing dishes and putting away leftovers. It allowed you to slip away without notice and take a nice hot shower after a long day of cooking and baking. You stood in front of the mirror, fresh faced and tired, ready to curl up with a cup of tea and a book in bed.
You slipped on some loungewear and made your way to the kitchen to make some tea. It was dark, the hum of the dishwasher the only sound. The kettle was set on the stove, the chamomile bag set in your mug. "I thought you'd gone to bed."
The tall dark-haired god entered the kitchen and reached right above you to grab a mug. "I'm about to," you said, grabbing the kettle again and filling it with more water for him.
"Thank you for dinner tonight."
"Did you like it?" you asked a little timidly. "I know it wasn't one of those fancy banquets you and Thor are used to."
"It was almost perfect." The mischievous gleam in his eye told you not to bite.
"Almost," you mumbled, your head tilting ever so slightly. Your eyes locked with his, the water in the kettle just starting to warm, and he picked you up and sat you on the counter. His mouth was on yours, legs wrapped around his waist, hands threaded into his hair. The kettle started to whisper and he ran his hands up your thighs, up your back, tongues dancing in rhythm together. The water began to boil, the kettle whistling that it was ready, and you pulled away, pushing him to turn off the stove and fill your mugs.
He came up behind you, pulling your hair to the side and running kisses down your neck. "I want you, y/n."
Your thighs clamped together as you bobbed the teabag in the water and set the kettle back down.
You turned around, taking a sip of the hot beverage, slightly scalding your tongue. "What do you want?"
You were toying with him, you both knew that. He licked his bottom lip, gently grabbed your mug and slowly set it back on the counter. "Every inch of you."
Your teeth bit your bottom lip and he pressed you against the counter. He slowly bent down, his lips hovering above yours. "Do you know how much I want you?"
"Show me," you whispered, and it was all he needed to hear. He kissed you once, hard, then turned you around, pressing your chest down on the counter. Bending you over the counter, he pulled down your pants, and you heard him catch his breath. You smiled to yourself, the dark green lacy panties a very good choice for tonight.
"Seems like you know exactly how much I want you, you minx." The sting of his palm against your ass cheek made a loud moan emit from you and your walls clenched. Leaning over your body, his growing arousal pressed against your thigh, whispering in your ear, "You keep making noises like that and I'll have to put something in that beautiful mouth of yours."
He rubbed the pink mark that he left, then sharply smacked the other cheek to even it out, a stifled cry emerged as you pressed your hands into the counter. His fingers trailed lower, soon finding the spot he craved so much. Fingers circled and teased as you submitted fully to him. "Mmmmm, you are such a good girl."
The lacy panties were gently pulled to the side, his long digit slipping inside of you, thumb brushing over your bundle of nerves, and you shuddered beneath him. He pulled his finger from you, the void making you whine, and he brought it to his mouth to get a taste. "Norns, you taste divine."
"Loki, I need–"
Before you could tell him your desire, he flipped you around, yanking the delicate lacy garment from your legs and setting you back on the counter, yelping from the shock of the cold on your thighs. "Mmmm, I can't wait to hear what other sounds I can pull from you."
He bent to his knees and grabbed your thighs to pull you to the edge of the counter, kissing the soft skin there before sinking his teeth in, making a mark. Then drew his lips closer and closer, aching and shivering, until you felt his warm tongue swirl around, lips sucking around your cluster of nerves. "Ohmigod Loki–" and then an animalistic groan as you wrapped your legs round his head. His arm reached up, hand covering your mouth to stifle the noises as he continued to swirl his tongue. Fingers gripped onto his silky locks as you reached the peak, so close, so close. When his fingers pushed inside you, first one, then two, you moaned into his palm, coming undone, shivering and shaking around his head. Making sure you were fully spent, he kissed the thigh where his teeth had made an imprint and stood, a devilish smirk playing on his face.
You reached for the waistband of his pants and he clasped onto your hand, bringing it to his lips. Breathily, you asked, "What are you doing?"
"Not tonight, darling. I need to give you something for Christmas."
"What?"
He kissed the tip of your nose and grabbed his mug of tea, now cold. "Happy Thanksgiving, love. Good night."
Summary: Steve Rogers seems to take care of everyone. But who takes care of him?
Pairings: Steve Rogers x reader; a little Loki x reader (because I can’t help it)
Warnings: smut; angst; drinking
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"Actually, it's interesting…"
In all honesty, the contents of your wine glass was the most interesting thing at the table. Between the appetizer and main course, it has become apparent that this date had been a mistake. The downtown restaurant was quite popular and loud, easy to drown out the one-sided conversation from across the table about whatever was incredibly interesting. Had he even asked a question all night?
Smiling your way through dinner and dessert, he rambled on until the bill was paid and you could finally slip on your coat to leave.
"Thank you for a lovely evening," you said at the main entrance of the restaurant.
"Let me take you home." It was a statement more than a suggestion. Protesting was futile as his car pulled up from the valet and, with a sigh, you gave in.
"Thank you, again," you said as he parked his car and started to walk you towards the Towers, not taking the hint.
"Let me get you safe inside," he offered, placing a hand on the small of your back. Cringing, you gently guided his hand away and turned to face him.
"Thank you," you said all the more sternly. "I can take it from here."
He frowned, as if he had something to say, and then his eyes darted behind you for a split second before saying a quick good night and leaving. You spun on your heel to find a shadowed figure emerging, hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face. Steve.
You let out a breath, a little thankful, a little frustrated. Of course, one of the most emotionally unavailable bachelors in America would be your knight in shining armor. He walked up, looking between you and the man bee-lining it to his getaway vehicle. "Don't start, Rogers." You didn't need a lecture after the night you had.
His hands shot up in animated defense. "Only here if you need me."
He held the door open, waiting patiently as you strutted toward the entrance. Maybe he was emotionally unavailable, but he was still Captain America, and you'd be damned if the little dress you wore went to waste. You passed by him, imagining how confident and sexy you must appear when your heel caught on the door frame, tripping you forward. On instinct, Steve grabbed your hand and waist before you landed on your face. Adrenaline rushed through your veins for a moment, and when you turned your head, he was closer than expected. "You okay?"
"Guess I needed you after all," you laughed a little breathy, attempting to lighten the mood amidst him everywhere on you–his hands hovered on your hip and back, his chest pressed against yours, his face only inches away.
He smiled warmly, helping you upright. "Let's get you upstairs."
The glass elevator held a perfect view of the skyline, and you watched the planes above while waiting to reach the main loft. Leaning against the railing, you slipped off your heels, your feet finally rejoicing.
"Bad date?" he asked, trying to make small talk.
"I don't think he even remembered my name." He chuckled quietly, sliding his hands into his pockets. The elevator doors opened and he walked in stride with you down the hall while you gave him the play-by-play highlights of your disaster of a date. He paused when you reached the front of your bedroom door.
“I dunno,” you said with a sigh. “Somehow I just continue to attract the self-absorbed assholes. Maybe that's just the type I'm meant to be with.”
He shook his head. “Don't think that. You deserve better.”
“You really think so?”
He gave you a look like it was obvious. “Come on, you're too good of a girl to end up with someone like that.” His words made you smile, and they lingered in your mind long after you had said good night, making you wonder if anyone took care of the captain the way he took care of you.
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Pancakes and coffee. That was all you could think about in the morning, and the aromas wafting from the kitchen brought some of the team to slowly trickle out.
"So, how was the date?" Natasha asked, pouring a large cup of coffee and settling in a seat near the kitchen island. You gave her a look. "That bad?"
You turned to flip pancakes and pour more batter on the skillet. "Let's just say I'm glad Steve was there to send him on his way without a word."
Natasha raised an eyebrow at Steve, who shook his head like it was nothing, but she gave him an amused look.
When you turned back around with a fresh stack of pancakes, you were faced with hungry eyes. "Alright, you guys have to share!"
Taking your share of the prepared breakfast, you settled into a chair at the island.
"So, is that a no to any future blind dates?" Natasha asked.
"That's a definite no. But I will absolutely say yes to a date with you at that new club downtown."
"Alright, alright, we'll go. Steve, what do ya' say? Wanna join us and make it a threesome?" she asked, leaning up against him.
Flustered and choking on his coffee, he turned three shades of red and shook his head. "No no, you ladies have fun."
You and Natasha sighed in unison. "Suit yourself."
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Your night out with Natasha was magical. The club was classy and modern, the kind where you'd find paparazzi hiding out. Both men and women lined up to buy you and Natasha drinks, join the VIP lounge, and dance the night away.
By the early morning hours, you had stumbled back into the loft with Natasha, giggling and shushing one another way too loudly. Natasha went to the kitchen, making a racket of noise with glasses and cupboards while you laid down on the couch, feet aching from hours of dancing. A glass shattered on the floor, followed by Natasha cursing and a very tired and irritated Captain storming out of his room.
"Seriously Nat?"
"Sorry dad," she said, attempting to pick up bits of glass from the floor. Steve sighed, running his hands through his hair.
"Just stop, your gonna cut yourself. Go to bed, I'll take care of it."
She was stubborn, but he was firm, and soon she was scampering out of the kitchen and down the hall to her room. Steve sighed and you heard the sweeping of the broom, the metal grating of the dustpan.
When he shut off the kitchen light, you sat up from the couch. "You're good at that."
Steve turned and practically jumped, placing a hand on his heart. "Jeez, you scared me half to death!"
"Sorry," you said meekly.
"Have you been drinking too?" He didn't sound upset or accusational. More amused.
Putting your index finger and thumb close together, you scrunched up your face in guilt, making him laugh. "Alright, come on."
He offered his hand out and you took it, faltering when you stood. "I see Nat forgot how much of a lightweight you are," he joked.
"Hey," you said and smacked him on the chest. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, looking down and holding you in his arms for a moment. You felt so small in his arms and swallowed the lump in your throat before breaking the silence. "You take care of everyone."
"Is that what I'm good at?"
You nodded.
"I guess I do," he said, and in one swift movement hooked his arm under your legs, causing you to squeal while he carried you down the hall.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint light of the moon. He laid you down on the bed and sat next to you. "Need anything before I go?"
You took hold of his hand and he looked down at the touch. "Steve… Does anyone ever take care of you?"
He considered the question. "The team takes care of me when it's needed."
You shook your head. "No." And then, heart pounding in your boldness, you sat up and climbed over to straddle him. Arms wrapped around his neck and his breath grew heavy. "Does anyone take care of you…like this?"
You leaned in slowly, in case he was uncomfortable, in case you were reading it wrong, but he allowed you to kiss him, and after a moment, his lips responded, his hands slow and steady guiding up your legs, your hips, your back. He whispered your name, a question, a desire, a need.
He pulled back to look at you, a little in shock, a little in lust. Like he wanted to be good, but he also wanted you. "You're… you've been drinking."
Your head tilted to the side. Should have known–always the chivalrous one. "Steve, I want you."
Kisses trailed down his neck and across his jaw line as you spoke.
"Let me take care of you," you whispered, pulling up the end of his T-shirt until he allowed you to pull it over his head. He was torn, hesitant. He didn't allow his desires to normally take precedence over honor. But, this time, he did. Hands ran over his thick chest, his hardened abs, to play with the little grooves on his hip bones. "Sit back," you ordered, and he obediently listened, watching with want and desire while your fingers hooked into his shorts and underwear, sliding them down in one go.
His cock sprang forth from its confines, already hard and pulsing and wet from precum, and your eyes went wide at how incredibly well-endowed he was. The ladies had all speculated at how big the super soldier actually was, but you'd never imagined…
You knew then how you wanted to take care of him. With a devilish smirk you crawled up, your tongue running along the underside of his cock, never breaking eye contact. A little moan escaped him, making you want to hear the range of all his noises. Your fingers stroked at his balls as you slowly guided your tongue along his shaft, causing his breath to shutter.
His fingers ran through your hair and when you lifted your head he brushed your cheek with his thumb.
"God, you are gorgeous," he whispered. You closed your eyes and then took him full in your mouth and down your throat. The response he gave was guttural, claiming your name when you took a breath, only to go down again. In that moment, you were in control and he was yours. His breaths became faster, his moans more frequent, and you knew he wouldn't last much longer. But that was perfectly fine; you were here to take care of him.
Your mouth became hot and full of him and was swallowed down like it was nothing. It took a moment for him to catch his breath and come back down from his high and he started to ramble, from embarrassment or being unsure of what to do. You shushed him gently, curled up next to him, and grabbed his hand to wrap his arm around you.
He laid there quietly, kissed your shoulder and fell asleep in your bed. But in the morning, he was gone.
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You weren't surprised. Disappointed, sure. But not surprised. More than a dozen times you had reminded yourself that Steve Rogers was emotionally unavailable. But that didn't stop your drunk ass from what you did last night.
In the light of the morning, you were determined to not walk out of your room looking like some drunken whore. You'd be damned if you were someone he regretted. Extra time was taken to scrub yourself clean, brush your teeth twice, and make yourself not only presentable, but gorgeous.
Taking a breath, you walked out to the foyer. Natasha looked up from her cup of coffee, a tired smile on her face. "Sorry I bailed on you last night. I don't even remember what happened. Where did you go?"
You shook your head at her apology. "No, it's fine. I just passed out."
Natasha raised a curious eyebrow at you. "No midnight romping?"
You laughed, maybe a little too loudly. "Nothing of the sort, I can assure you."
She hummed in response. "Morning Captain."
Your eyes went big for a slight moment as he passed behind, a scent of evergreen lingering behind. "Morning," he acknowledged evenly.
Pulse starting to race, you slipped into the kitchen before Natasha could question you further. Pouring a cup of coffee (the larger, the better after the night you had), Steve walked in casually.
"Morning agent," he said, grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge.
"Hi," you said, stirring your coffee as if it was the most fascinating cup of coffee you'd ever laid eyes on.
"Sleep well?"
You raised your eyes up to meet his, a small smirk on your face. "Yes…" you said slowly. Was he playing a game with you?
Steve waited until he was sure Natasha was gone and out of earshot. Then, crossing his arms and studying the floor, he said, "Listen, I need to apologize for last night."
You blinked but kept silent, stirring your coffee and watching him. He was infuriating! Just wouldn't let you have that moment with him.
"I took advantage of the situation and should have stopped it before it went that far," he continued.
Your breaths were even through your nose, but internally you were screaming. As frustrated as you were, you knew there was no point in arguing. Once he had gotten something in his mind as fact, there was no convincing him otherwise.
Sighing, you made to leave the room. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Steve."
He grabbed your bicep as you passed by, making you pause in your tracks. "It can't happen again."
You looked from his grip on your arm to his piercing stare and bit to your lip to refrain from screaming at him.
"Got it," you choked out, and pulled away.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
It was easier to just avoid him in the following weeks. If he hadn't made a thing of it, you could have gone back to being friendly and flirty. But he didn't make things easy
You chose the missions he wasn't on and made excuses for the ones he joined. But it was hard; you missed him, his kindness, his stories, his listening ear. He was your leader and you just felt…lost.
There was no use in regrets, but sometimes you'd wonder if you'd make a mistake and lost a friend.
It was a strangely quiet Saturday night for most of the team. After a few weeks of intense missions and undercover work, it was nice to finally have a break. The last thing you wanted was to go out to a bar or club and Natasha agreed. Giving you a look like she was up to no good, she pulled out a deck of cards and a bottle with a language you couldn't translate.
"What are you doing, Nat?" you asked with a warning tone.
"Making our own fun. We aren't a couple of spinsters. If we don't want to go out, doesn't mean we can't still have a little fun," she said with a wink.
You smiled while shaking your head. "You're the worst influence."
"No, I'm the best. Now round up whatever boys are still around."
You trailed down the hall and paused at Steve's door. Knocking, you prayed that he wouldn't answer, but the door opened before you could slip away.
"Hi," he said, crossing his arms. He appeared standoffish, but there was a kindness in his eyes.
"Hey, um, Nat is setting something up out there. Wanted everyone to join."
He raised an eyebrow. "What did she pull out from her bag of tricks this time?"
"Box of cards and a bottle of something."
"Blue label? Foreign writing?"
"Yeah." As silly as it was, you missed this–the normalcy, the casual chat, feeling comfortable with him again. There was a beat where you two locked eyes, getting lost for a moment. You opened your mouth to say something, a sorry, an I miss you, anything, but he beat you to the punch.
"I think I'm gonna stay in tonight, but… you should be careful with that bottle. Asgardian firewater isn't for the faint of heart."
He started to close the door. "Steve?"
He paused, but the words caught in your throat and you just stood there like an idiot.
"Have fun," he said, and hearing your name on his lips brought it all back. You wondered if he thought about it as much as you did.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
He was right about the firewater. Natasha had poured you a shot and it burned like kerosene going down. You shuttered, turning the bottle to study its label. A hand reached out, clasping the shot glass and pulling it to the side. Your eyes followed the hand to the dark haired Asgardian prince who leaned toward you.
"Please do not tell me you drank this in a shot glass."
You smirked at him. "Blame Nat. I just do as I'm told."
Shaking his head at your naivety, Loki refrained from engaging on your comment further and slid the used shot glass to the sink, pulling a clean large glass from the cabinet.
"If you're going to drink this, you're at least going to learn how to make a proper Asgardian beverage out of it." He rolled up his sleeves, rummaging through the bar and pulling out an assortment of bottles and citrus fruit.
"You making me a drink or breakfast, Loki?"
He stood, pointing a paring knife at you. "Hush. Now come around here, you're making it yourself."
He taught you how to skin the rind off an orange without the pith, instructed you to juice a lime, showed you the measurements for the other spirits to add before pouring it over the liquor. He didn't touch you, but his close proximity somehow still made you feel warm.
"Stir it, slowly” he drawled. “The point of this isn't to rush and hit your high as fast as possible. Savor it, enjoy yourself."
He slid the glass toward you and watched as you took a sip, an eyebrow raised in a question. Your eyes widened as that first sip went down, not burning like fire, but sweet like honey. "It's good. Thank you Loki."
Satisfied, he leaned forward, palm landing on the back of your arm to whisper in your ear. "Now don't let me catch you with that shot glass again. You deserve more than just a quick fix."
You took a short breath in as you laughed nervously, something twisting deep inside. Was he…flirting with you? Your eyes darted to the side to see Steve talking to Tony, but watching you. He turned, patting Tony on the back before walking straight out the door, his jaw firmly set.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The night had been fun, playing an assortment of card games. Loki and Thor attempted to teach everyone a complicated version of Asgardian poker, which turned into peals of laughter. You wiped your eyes, both from laughing so hard and feeling exhausted, when Loki stood. "Thank you for a pleasant evening, but it is time for me to retire for the night."
You nodded and yawned on cue. "Me too. Goodnight guys."
Natasha shuffled the cards and dealt out a hand to the rest of the night owls, saying a quick good night.
You followed Loki the short distance down the hall to your separate bedrooms. "Sorry Loki, I think we're a little hopeless at learning your game."
"If my brother can master it, there is hope for you all yet. Plus," he paused, turning to you in front of your door, "it seemed like a welcome distraction for you."
You looked up at him, a little alarmed at his observation. Hadn't you been more discreet watching the front door for Steve? Apparently not.
"Oh, I…" you stuttered, but he shook his head and put a hand on your arm to reassure you.
"No need to be embarrassed, little one. I wasn't trying to pry. It was just nice to see you carefree and smiling again."
He was right, it was a nice change. You were tired of walking on eggshells and needed an attitude shift.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
You couldn't sleep that night though, as tired as you were. Between Loki's flirty antics and Steve's frustrating behavior, your mind was swimming and needed to be cleared. After tossing and turning, the blankets were finally ripped off and gym clothes slipped on, deciding a quick workout would help.
Earpods turned on, you entered the gym and started up the treadmill. A mile in and sweat starting to drip, a resounding boom caused you to pull out your earbuds. Pausing on the edge of the treadmill, you pulled out an earbud to listen, a rhythmic pattern of beats down the hall. That was odd, you thought you'd be alone at this hour.
"Hello?" you called out, wiping the sweat from your forehead and chest and following the sound. You opened the door to an open studio used for combat practice and paused in the doorway. On the opposite side of the room, Steve focused on a punching bag, his back muscles rippling and contracting within a tight T-shirt. Standing mesmerized, you watched as he worked the bag until one final blow busted it off the hook and he went to grab a new one.
His eyes turned up and locked on yours, startling you out of your trance. "Sorry. I…" you fumbled at your words.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
You shook your head. "Came down here to clear my head."
"Yeah," he said, hooking the bag on with one arm. "I've been trying to do that for a while now."
"Well, I'll let you get back to it." You made your way toward the door. Halfway through the door frame, he said your name, staring at the bag, making you pause. "I haven't… I haven't been able to sleep for a while. I can't stop thinking about that night."
You almost didn't hear him, almost asked him to repeat himself. When he turned to look at you, you were like a deer caught in headlights. Too afraid to move or look away.
"I know that I shouldn't. And I tried to stop myself, tried to push you away and ignore you. My focus should be on the team and our missions. That's why I told you it couldn't happen again."
He unwrapped the boxing tape from his hands, walking toward you.
"But I can't get you out of my head. You're all I can think about."
You ignored the pounding of your heart and the tingling in your core. He was so close to you now, and you were furious. How dare he say all this after how he treated you! You wanted to slap him, yell at him, anything to show him how much pain and frustration he had caused you. But then, his next words cut to your core: "I'm so sorry. I miss you."
His blue eyes searched your own, no doubt looking for a sign that you would forgive him. He hesitantly raised a hand slowly up to your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone, melting your resolve and angry exterior with the swipe of his hand. Who were you kidding? You missed him too.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The sun was creeping up along the horizon when your eyes opened. Your bed was warm and cozy and your arm clutched onto the arm wrapped around your body.
You turned slightly, Steve still asleep and breathing steadily. The man was probably exhausted from his lack of sleep the last few weeks. It didn't help that you both stayed up late the night before as well.
He had walked you back to your room after your encounter in the gym, stood outside your door to wish you good night like the gentleman he was trying to be. No, he was a gentleman, he reminded himself; only you had ignited something inside him that he was fighting hard to resist. You gripped onto the edge of his T-shirt and pulled him into the room with a coy smile that he reciprocated.
Neither knew what to do, and you didn't want him to feel like you were expecting him to reciprocate for the prior night together. After keeping your distance from him for weeks, you just knew that you wanted to be near him again.
"For the record, I missed you too Steve." You grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, tossing one across the room to him.
He downed half the bottle before recapping it. "I'm not very good at this. I've spent too long focused only on whatever the mission is and not anything else."
"This," you said, gesturing between the two of you, "can be whatever we want it to be. I just know that I want you back in my life. However you want that to be."
He nodded, taking in your words. Then stood and walked over to you leaning against the dresser. His blue eyes looked down to yours and you could feel your heart instantly picking up pace. He could probably hear what he was doing to you by the uptick of your pulse, but didn't let on. "However I want?"
You nodded, words lost to you. Even though you had had him once before, he still made your nerves twist. He leaned down and kissed you then, and it felt like you both let go of a breath that was held for far too long.
When he pulled away, you almost whined, wanting more.
"Let's start by taking care of you," he said, and gripped your ass to sit you on the dresser.
With easier access, he trailed kisses down your neck, body shivering in response. He pulled you into him and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Lifting you up, he carried you easily to your bed and gently set you down, hovering over you.
“What do you want?” he asked, and you knew that his question was meant for more than just pleasure.
You hooked your finger into the hem of his t-shirt, bringing his lips to yours. A girl could get used to those soft lip caresses. The warmth of his hand traveled underneath your shirt, up your ribcage to the curve of your breast, and you gasped as his fingertips circled your nipple. He pulled his lips back from yours to watch the expression on your face, and with a little hesitancy, you told him, “I want to be yours.”
It was like you had lighted a fire within him with your words, and he engulfed you in flames. Your leggings were removed, his lips trailing kisses lower and lower until he was in between your thighs, finding solace in your warm folds. His tongue was like a flint, unyielding until sparks flew. Without mercy, he gripped onto your thighs, making you rise higher and higher. You gripped onto his hair, moaning his name at a higher octave until you fell into bliss, and were cradled in his arms.
There was no telling what would become of you and him, but for the moment, you would take care of each other.
Is not amused by your bratty behavior, not at all, honey, and he thinks that maybe he needs to find something better to do with that smart mouth of yours. 👀
Bratty? Me? 😇 I think Andy's been too stressed with work and in fear of him suffering a heart attack I simply did my best to defuse the tension and make him relax. Like a good, loving girl that I am 😌
Charm and defuse
Andy Barber x female reader
summary: You thought it was a great idea to pick your husband from office after watching him work so hard for the past few weeks. Andy was so tense, coming back home late each night. So really, surprising him should make him feel a little better, right? Well...
warnings: established relationship; Dom/sub undertones; possessive Andy Barber; smut-t-y bits ahead;
You feel a little bad.
Mostly embarrassed. And giggly.
There's a champagne hiccup, too.
And feeling bad, yes. The bad part is important. Especially when Andy's face clouds with that stormy look, muscle in his jaw ticking as he stares you down.
He shouldn't be staring you down, you think. You're his cute, beloved wife and you came here to make him happy. You almost frown at him, but remember that Andy's hand gets heavier when you frown at him.
Well, sometimes you do it on purpose, because the sting of his slap can feel amazing.
Something tells you now wouldn't be the right time to aggravate him further. You're in enough trouble as it is. Not your fault, truly, but better not point that out.
Pity that your mouth doesn't cooperate with the tiny non-drunk particle in your otherwise tipsy brain.
"Don't glare. It's your fault." You blurt. And frown. Oops.
Andy arches a single eyebrow as he takes a step forward. He moves quietly, yet each step feels like it thunders along with your heartbeat. Which stopped for a few seconds when Andy came into his office.
Your plan was to come to Andy's office in the evening, so you could surprise him after his last meeting and perhaps be a little naughty on his big, polished desk.
Which is why you came in nothing but lingerie under your cobalt blue coat and with a bottle of champagne - some expensive sparkle that Andy kept in the small wine cellar at your house.
But Andy's meeting was running late. Really late. To the point of you getting bored out of your mind.
So you opened the bottle. A few sips wouldn't harm anyone and you'd be more relaxed to make a sexy pose on Andy's office couch to welcome him when he returned.
Half a bottle later he did return.
And you were spread on his couch in nothing but lingerie and jewelry, sucking a finger into your mouth when Andy walked in.
With three other man right at his back...
You're not sure if he was more pissed that those men saw you like that, or that you cursed and giggled and waved your fingers at them.
He barked out something harsh to them and closed the door to his office (more like slammed them). Andy's eyes never leave your form, even as you stumble from your sprawled-like-a-whore position to a more lady like.
"Explain, please," Andy slowly takes off his suit jacket, "how is it my fault that my wife flashed a body that belongs to me to other men and downed half of the bottle of Krug that I saved for our wedding anniversary?"
He drapes his jacket over the back of a guest chair and starts rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Which makes your brain sidetrack and your thighs clench.
"Maybe if you weren't so busy with a boring meeting, you'd get to your wife sooner and do something about all this!" You gesture at yourself and pout.
"Oh, I'm about to do something about all this." Andy's voice is a snap of leather, sending shivers down your spine at the though of that potential outcome.
"Okay!" You jump up, swaying slightly as the bubbles fizzle in your head again.
You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, about to tug them down your legs, when Andy's fingers clench around your wrists and pull your hands away.
"You're not getting the part you like, honey," his breath is a hit, cruel tease against the shell of your ear.
"Not until I've had my fill."
He twists your arms behind your back and binds them with his tie. Then he's pushing on your shoulder, forcing you to kneel down. Sliding a foot between your knees, he kicks them wider apart.
Keeps his shoe dipped right under your clothed pussy, too.
"You downed that champagne so eagerly and spread yourself like a cute little slut-" Andy tilts your chin up with one hand, unfastening his pants with the other- "You will swallow me as eagerly and rub yourself on my shoe like a good girl."
When you don't react, too mesmerized with the sight of his beautiful, thick cock springing free, Andy squeezes your chin.
"Won't you?" He asks, holding your gaze.
"Yes, Sir." You wet your lips and grin. "I like the taste of you more than champagne, anyway."
Andy snorts, but eases his grip on your chin and instead cups your cheek as he guides his cock between your parted lips.
"Prove it, brat," he challenges, holding the back of your head as he pushes himself down your throat.
When you start rocking your hips against his foot while tonguing the underside of his dick, Andy groans in relieved bliss.
Lord knows your presence is always what he needs for his day to be better, even when you're being mouthy or getting into trouble. He loved your surprise visit and if it wasn't for the unexpected witnesses, he'd take your giggly, tipsy ass for a ride on his desk - just like he knows you've been dreaming.
But other men saw the treasure that you were and since Andy can't punch them and gouge their eyes out, he has to take it out on you.
Besides, it wouldn't do good if he didn't punish you for being careless.
Sensing your rhythm increasing, Andy stills with his cock halfway in your mouth and taps his shoe against your inner thigh. You gaze up at him, swallowing a hum around his length.
"You don't get to cum." He commands and your pupils widen.
Your whine resonates along Andy's cock, but you slow the motion of your hips. You're not particularly happy with this punishment, but you guess you'd be even less happy with the repercussions for your disobedience.
Then again...
"Don't even think about it," Andy pats your cheek. "Disobey and you won't be cumming for a month."
"Be good," he caresses you with the back of his hand and pushes deeper into your throat, "and I'll reward you for being my good girl."
"My good." He starts fucking your face harder. "Thoughtful. Frisky. Wife. Oh fuck baby! That's it! Keep going. Keep-"
It takes all remnants of your will power not to orgasm when Andy does. It's fucking hard to do, because the grip on your head and the twitching of his cock on your tongue is a great turn on.
Maybe Andy's conditioned your body to react this way to the mere taste of him, but you have to lift your hips completely up from his shoe, because the slightest pressure would undoubtedly tip you over the edge.
Andy pulls out when he's still spurting, smearing last splashes on your chin and cheeks. Then thrusts into your mouth again.
Long minutes later Andy lifts you up on your feet. He unties your hands and helps you into your coat. Your body is still buzzing with need, panties sticking to your slick folds.
He doesn't clean your face and holds your hand in his as he marches you out of his office into his car.
Get out your party hats because we're celebrating! It's officially been a year since I posted my very first reading list 🥳 Might seem a bit silly but this is the only thing I've managed to keep going for that long, sooo honestly I'm way more proud than I probably should be 😆
Obviously you lovelies deserve the biggest THANK YOU for even being interested and motivating me every month! You don't even know how much it meant to me :)
I've been thinking about a way to celebrate a little bit and decided (with moral support by @lokisgoodgirl 💕) to create my first little event!
Since I'm not a writer myself but selfishly want more to read, it's gonna be a Prompt(ober) Event 🎃 where I'll give out prompt cards to everyone who'd like to participate!
More info will follow, typically I'm not quite ready yet 🍁 Plus, with all the events currently running I figured everybody is already busy enough and I'll give it a bit more time. Would you lovelies prefer Mid-October or beginning of November?
Thank you again for being here with me the last year and let's get this list going! I adore all of you. 🫶
As always, if I made any mistakes, please tell me. Hope you'll find something new to enjoy, please remember to reblog those storys to support our writers!
↪︎ Previous reading lists & writer recommendations here
These two awesome babes have teamed up to write five fics for us this spooky season! ✧˚☆ First Part Blood Lust is out now and I mean.. do I have to mention more than Father Laufeyson? 😏 I'm so excited for the following parts, I might just die while waiting.
🎃 Kinktober 2023 | @sarahscribbles | ongoing
Anyone else still getting needy when thinking about the kinktober fics we got last year because Saz literally just wanted us to loose any clear thought we ever had? 😮💨 Well she's doing it again and my head has been emptied already, I'm just gonna be over here drooling about the first fic Spanking 🥵
These Wicked Games Collection | @mochie85 | ongoing
New chapter for this amazing collection 😍 After that fateful morning weeks ago our first contact with Loki again plays out during a game of Truth or Dare which forces us to finally confront your feelings. 🔥
Freedom & Forgiveness | @darkserenity24 | ongoing
Literally binged the current 40 chapters in two days because I couldn't stop reading! In this one we are just a normal girl with our father working in the Avengers tower as a psychologist. When the God of Mischief escapes his cell in the basement, he comes across us while looking for revenge but ultimately doesn't hurt us. As time goes by we're getting more and more curious about the prisoner that is again imprisoned, until we find a secret door, seemingly leading down in the basement... 💥
A Scandal in Bohara | @mareebird | ongoing
The situation on Bohara is not getting any less confusing for Loki and Strange, only getting more complicated because they both start to show that neither of them are particulary talented when it comes to friendship and trusting each other 👀
Don't fear the Reaper | @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 | completed ✅
Buckle up for the thrilling finale of this series! After the last dramatic confrontation with the Flock, the time has come: We have to face SHIELDs test of our control over our abilities which turns out completely different than what we were expecting. And even if we manage to pass, what will our future in New Asgard and the relationship with Loki look like? 💥 🫣
Déchire | @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 | ongoing
We're a spy for HYDRA, sent to infiltrate the Avengers and tear them apart by seducing the three strongest members: Steve, Bucky and Loki. I'll just say it, this might become the most glorious smutfest ever and I'm here for it. And my new favorite term love square - which I suspect will lead us to aaaall the smut, kinks and tropes we ever wanted 🫠 I feel filthy already 🫦
Fire Eyes | @unlucky-number-13 | ongoing
The mutual attraction between Loki and Brenda is at this point undeniable - but only manages to complicate things even further. They can't seem to stay away from each other with Brend even risking her long friendship with Nick when she chooses Loki over him as a partner in the field 👀
Blood & Flowers | @unlucky-number-13 | ongoing
I'm so excited about this story, I love the concept so much and the first chapter already is amazing. Angst, fluff and enemies to lovers incoming! We are already always at odds with Prince Loki and trying to best each other, when the insufferable god casts a spell that causes flowers to bloom on our skin whenever he's injured - while he certainly meant to annoy us with that, things are getting more and more confusing for both of us the longer the spell lasts.
We are the Monsters | @cultofcarter | ongoing
After finding a safe haven in Wakanda, it has become apparent by now that we will need someone to teach us control over our abilities - and who'd be better for that job than a certain god? Shuri sneakily manages to convince the Avengers that she needs his help for another project and we finally get to meet Loki ✨
The Wedding Present | @gigglingtiggerv2 | ongoing
A new installment with Lex and Loki, who you might remember from Giggles series Action & Reaction ! When Loki has to make a trip to Asgard, Lex finds him to be acting suspicious about it. A conversation with Thor finally reveals the unthinkable: Loki is actually engaged. Even if just for reasons of diplomacy, Lex has trouble dealing with the fact and it really doesn't help that Loki tries to hide even more details about it.. until he presents her with a something he thinks will proof to her how much she means to him. Be ready guys. :D
Transgressions | @lokischambermaid | ongoing
I'm falling more in love with this series with every chapter people. After a dramatic falling out with Loki following a few troubling revelations we struggle with finding out what is the actual truth about the allegations against him. Loki isolates himself until a surprising friend showd up to comfort him and resolve the situation - so everybody can concentrate on the real task at hand since the allegations are still on the table.. 💥
Out of my system | @simplyholl | ongoing
Drama ensues when we are allowed to travel to Asgard with Loki! Not only do we have a big secret he currently doesn't know about, suddenly we're not even sure anymore he even wants to be with us at all when we find him meeting a woman he once was in a relationship with 🙊
On the Edge | @peachyjinx | ongoing
This might be the idea we've all been waiting for, especially if you enjoyed this type of book when you were younger like me: Choose your own Smutventure! In this one we are an Avenger dealing with being distracted by Loki and how attractive he is. 😏 Nothing has happened yet aside from some flirting. Our problems increase by a landslide when we're suddenly unable to orgasm and have to figure out how to solve the situation. 🫠
Broken Mirrors | @teamatsumu | completed ✅
A short but beautiful and emotional story, where Loki is asked by Tony to look into magical artifacts they discovered in a HYDRA base. But even as an expert in this field, the God of Mischief is shocked to discover a young, frail woman who definitely could use his help - because she is trapped inside an antique mirror.
Two Broken Make a Whole | @thomase1 | ongoing
After our last mission basically failed, Thor and Loki disappear for a while to deal with the enemies and resolve the situation. Loki starts to act differently to us which causes a lot of confusing feelings to emerge while we dive a bit deeper into the history of Medusa, the name one of the HYDRA agents called us.
A Fairytale Beginning | @the-lady-amphitrite | ongoing
Lore Train is leaving the station, get on board! We don't get to know more about the current situation with Loki but this new chapter will not leave you disappointed eitherway. Since we're coming of age it's time to revisit our peoples history and even more importantly learn about true destiny and what may be our future path! ♥️
☆˚✧ Oneshots | Twoshots | Drabbles ✧˚☆
@lokisgoodgirl
Make me melt
Slower
All I Need
A lot of Boning
@wheredafandomat
I love you
Heavy Petting
Meant to be
@fictive-sl0th
Dress
@ijuststareatstuffhereok89
A Very Good Pet
A Very Naughty Pet
@cosmic0artist
Guiding light, bring me home
@use-your-telescope
You were in the darkness too
(Snippet of this upcoming story)
@divine-knight-hand
Dream Sweet
Now, you're mine
@those-late-night-feels
To Kill A God
@peacefulpianist
Honey, are you coming?
@crowsoundsonly
A Healing Touch
@ladyofthestayingpower
Autumn's Offerings
@ladychota
Run
Just drawing
Come home
@peachyjinx
When in Space...
@mischiefmaker615
Interior Motive
@cleo-fox
Close Quarters Part I – Part II
@sserpente
Raw Desire
@amomentsescape
You & Me
@november-rayne
The Gift of Distraction
@simplyholl
The President's Pet
@holdmytesseract
Illusions
@donaweasley
The Tesseract
@teamatsumu
I'll be human
Confused
Accidental Revelation
I feel your heartbeat
See him again
@earlgreydream
Traveler
Mine
@vbecker10
Stay the Night
@oswildin
Love is a Dagger Part I & Part II
I hope you‘ll find something new for your own reading list & if you do, please don’t forget to reblog the fics of these amazing writers to support them :)
Summary: The mission – Assassination of Loki Laufeyson.
Warnings: Light control and dominance, loathing, spanking, smut.
A/N: We're just gonna pretend the events takes a different route after the Battle of New York.
Personal A/N: Apologies for how long it's been. Was dealing with some personal things, including a pretty bad injury that I'm now recovering from. I also tend to write really slow. Please enjoy! Comments/feedback & reblogs are always much appreciated! 💚
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Nights like these were the best time to work. Silent, still, dark. A hunter on a mission for the next prey. But this one was new; you'd never hunted a god before. Breaths were drawn slow, methodical, focused. Keep your heart rate down, keep your steps in check.
You had been kept in the shadows of the Avengers, not fitting in with the pretty boy heros, genius doctors, or sexy vixens. You were a wallflower, a nightcrawler.
Sure, Black Widow, she was cute with her fancy moves and killer body. But you? They never even hear you coming.
With grace and stealth, you had slipped into Asgard undetected when the portal opened up to take Thor and Loki home after the Battle of New York. The rush to this new world had been nauseating, but with breaths through your nose to compose yourself, you slipped into the shadows.
The streets of Asgard were crowded and foreign, vendors shouting to grab your attention, new smells, twinkling lights and glimmering colors. A fine silk robe was lifted from a distracted shopkeeper, promising yourself that you'd return it once the mission was complete.
In only a few hours, you had worked your so-called magic to obtain the intel needed and now stood in the main hall of the Asgard royal prison. It had taken a bit of eavesdropping on a table of drunken guards and the power of persuasion with another to allow you entry into the palace's main gates. A small amount of combat and you had forced your way into the prison compound.
Adrenaline pulsed through your veins, knowing you were close. Turning the corner, the prisoners were found fast asleep in their glass panel prison cells. And then, you stopped in your tracks and held your breath. The raven haired terror, that pathetic excuse for a god, slept only a few meters from you. He looked peaceful, almost gentle, but looks were deceiving. You reminded yourself that he was ruthless and cruel, but not for long.
Knowing there were only minutes before a slew of Asgardian guards would come rushing in, you worked diligently to shut down the currents running through the security system. Loki stirred in his bed, but didn't awaken. The dagger was heavy, but it was all that was needed to finish the mission.
Hand firmly on the hilt, you took quiet, determined steps to his bed, taking one last look at the god in front of you, then bared your weight as you went for his heart. But there was no impact as his body faded away to nothing.
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How peculiar it was, these small other worldly creatures who thought they could defeat a god. In the shadows, he tsked at the young thing in front of him. So impatient, so immature. Who did they think he was? He emerged slowly, a sinister smile dancing on his face. You turned abruptly, eyes going wide knowing your advantage was lost…or had never been there to begin with.
"Did you really think you could slay me?" He chuckled to himself, very amused by this predicament. "I assure you, girl, it will take more than a knife and leather leggings to take down the god of mischief."
With a futile attempt, you lunged at him. He grabbed you like a rag doll, twisting your arm in an awkward angle until the metal clanged on the floor. A whimper escaped and he let go before it dislocated, only to wrap his hands around your throat and bring you to eye level with him. He watched in satisfaction as you struggled, choking and clawing at his hands.
"Don't worry pet," he leaned in closely to whisper in your ear. "I won't kill you, not yet. There'd be no fun in that."
He drew a finger down the side of your face, relishing in the thoughts of all the things he could do to his new captive, when a booming voice echoed through the prison corridor. "LOKI?!"
He sighed to himself in annoyance, always the killjoy to his fun. "Here, brother."
Thor stood in front of the prison cell, taking in the scene before him: Loki standing calm and poised, a small girl held at arm's length from the neck, face turning red, toes dragging on the ground. "What's going on here?"
"Well, dear brother, it appears our security is not what it once was. I caught this one lurking around." Your eyes darted to his. Why did he withhold the truth?
Thor squinted, cocking his head to the side to get a better look at you. And then, your name left his lips like an incredulous question.
Loki's face went from a look of surprise at his brother's recognition of you to amusement at what this meant. "You're Midgardian," he mused.
"Loki, release her," Thor demanded, hearing you struggle in his grip.
"I'll tell you what. Allow me to go back to my chambers freely, and this little minx will be handed over to your care."
"Loki…" Thor gave a gutteral warning. He was treading on thin ice, but they both knew who had the upper hand.
"It's a fair trade. It's clear she is important to you." Loki's eyes locked on yours. "Release me…or I crush her windpipe."
You flailed uselessly in a panic, his grip growing tighter, causing your eyes to water, face slowly turning to shades of purple.
"Fine, Loki! Go back to your chambers."
A look of satisfaction as he dropped you to the floor. You collapsed and breathed in deeply, rubbing the sensitive skin around your neck. Thor called the guards: two to escort you back to his personal chambers and another two to allow Loki free access to his wing.
Loki stepped over you as he left, clearly pleased with how his evening was ending. This wasn't over, but it was for now.
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Thor had given you free reign of his chambers for the time being, instructing a few maidens to assist with your care, tending to any wounds, assisting with bathing and dress, although you insisted on doing the majority yourself. He found you the next morning after some rest, fully pampered and lounging on a chaise, feet and shoulders massaged by maidens.
"I could get used to the life of a prince," you teased when he came into the chambers. He ignored your jest and sat down looking troubled.
"Leave us," he ordered the maidens, watching until they filed out of the room. When the door shut, he turned to face you. "I have spent the last few hours trying to comprehend why you would come to Asgard without my knowing, and have yet to come up with a reason that doesn't involve violence." Your arms folded as he looked for any admission of guilt.
"It's classified, Thor." Your voice stayed steady and strong, and his jaw tightened. He grabbed a goblet from a nearby table and threw it against the wall, making it shatter, but you didn't flinch.
"I will remind you," he said slowly, "that right now you are on my planet, and not under Tony's protection."
You blinked at the mention of your employer and ally's name.
"You know I won't break, Thor. If I were a threat, wouldn't Loki have requested to have me locked up in one of your prison cells?" Thor considered your words. "In any case, I will leave you in peace and return to Midgard. I'm sure you have enough to deal with right now."
"No…. I think you'll stay as our guest for a while. We have some chambers available on the east wing." Your stomach twisted at what his words really meant. A guest, disguised as a prisoner. Thor stared you down.
"And, if I refuse?"
Now Thor crossed his arms, leaning back on the chaise. "You've seen our prison cells. They can be quite accommodating as well."
You smiled at his offer. "The east wing will be fine."
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The maidens took lead to the east wing; you attempted to map the halls to memory, but after the twelfth turn, considered it was futile. You'd be lucky to find your way to freedom, let alone finding your primary target.
A brunette opened the door to the chambers, a hand held out to guide you in. "If you need anything, we will be right outside to assist."
Great, I have watchdogs.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in the adjoining apartments, studying from the open window the trimmed gardens, the various exits, the guards that roamed the outer courts and how often they changed. When your stomach started to rumble with hunger, like clockwork there was a light knock on the door, followed by a maiden poking her head in.
"Excuse me, my lady. Your presence is requested in the dining hall."
As you followed the silent maidens, you tried speaking as casually as possible. "Is Loki's chambers in the east wing?"
"No, my lady."
You frowned. "I would assume he has a full wing to himself?"
"If the prince wishes for you to know where his chambers are, he will show you the way."
The other maiden giggled quietly, then pulled herself together quickly before being seen. No doubt they assumed you were looking to bed the prince, not that you would correct them if it took focus off the real reason to be here.
The dining hall was as elaborate as it was giant; high backed velvet chairs, a table that went on forever it seemed, vaulted ceilings adored with golden arches and cherubs, servants stationed every few meters. It was hard not to feel completely out of place, but Thor made you feel welcomed enough, having plate after plate of the most decadent food placed in front of you. You had to hand it to Thor, he had learned to become more sly, perhaps by watching how others on the team worked. He made small talk about Midgard and the team, but would casually add a question here and there about why you were in Asgard.
You were tight lipped; it would take more than being wined and dined to make something slip. Mid-conversation, the door creaked and the guards and servants straightened up. Footsteps clicked on the marble floor around the corner out of view, but you already knew who was approaching.
When he appeared, his eyes darted from Thor to you but his face was like a stone, unreadable. He tilted his head to consider you, no doubt admiring the marks he'd left on your neck the night before. "Have we lowered ourselves to now dine with common criminals?"
He watched as your jaw set and heard Thor's booming laugh. "Loki, I'd like you to formally meet my friend–"
At the mention of your name, he scoffed. "We met. Might I advise that you be more particular in who you acquaint yourself with, brother."
"Like you?" Arms crossed, you leaned in the chair in defense. He was as annoying as he was cocky.
He watched the pulsing of the vein in your neck, the slight reddening of your face; he was getting under your skin. Good.
"My dear, I have more greatness in the tip of my finger than you in your entire being."
You scoffed. "Greatness, huh? Seems like that greatness delusion is what brought you back up here in chains."
"And yet," he said, holding out his arms, "no chains. Although, I guess I have you to thank for that."
Internally, you were screaming. Fantasies of diving across the table to gouge out his eyes and claw his face played in your mind. He was insufferable. Agitating. Annoying.
You needed to finish this mission and escape Asgard. The sooner this world was rid of Loki Laueyson, the better.
You stood, your plate of food unfinished, turning to Thor with a plastered smile. "Thank you for the lovely meal, Thor. Please, excuse me."
You wouldn't dare look at Loki, but you could feel his eyes on you, causing the hairs to raise on the back of your neck.
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The halls had been quiet for hours and the only light in your room came from the glow of the moon and candlelight. You'd waited until it was almost inevitable that the maidens would have fallen asleep at their posting. Slipping by them was easy.
The occasional guard roamed the halls, but as you expected, was not as sharp. You slipped by two undetected, a third was put into a sleep hold and dragged into the shadows before anyone could be alerted.
The North Wing was far more rich in decor and aesthetics, with golden pillars and chandeliers. Loki's chambers were here, you were sure of it.
A sparkle of green in the shadows caught your eye. Was it a trick? Maybe, but he wouldn't take you by surprise this time.
The door was heavy and your steps were light as you entered the room. It was dark and smelled of cedar and leather. He was nowhere in sight, but you still kept to the walls.
A faint flicker of light in the next room caught your attention, a crackling fireplace, and there he appeared, reading in an oversized plush chair.
"You know, you're not as subtle as you think." He flipped the page, not even giving you the courtesy of looking up. "Thor had mentioned you were stealthy like a cat or something, but my oaf of a brother has about as much stealth as you do."
Your cheeks reddened in spite of yourself. He was absolutely infuriating. "Why did you lie?"
He finally looked up from his book, sliding a bookmark into the crease, a smirk playing on his lips. "You do realize that I'm the god of lies, don't you?"
"You could have told Thor why I was there, what I tried to do, and have me locked up. Why didn't you tell him?"
He made you feel so small when he stood, setting the book on a nearby coffee table. "Now where would the fun in that be?"
Taken aback, you blinked in response. "This…. This isn't a game."
He tsked and long daggers were revealed in his hands. "Darling, it's the best game there is."
He came forward at a fast pace. Your own weapons were drawn from your belt, ready to attack. Metal clashed in the middle of his study. He was impressed by your speed and agility, but he caused the first cut, a minor wound on your bicep. You responded by kicking him off his feet to pin him to the ground for only a moment before he flipped you over your head, losing one of your daggers in the process. With your hand free and he distracted, your fist made contact with his face.
A slur of curses were emitted. "You'll pay for that."
"We'll see." You smiled cockily, coming at him, but he was ready and provoked. One minute you had attacked him, a swipe of your blade and another punch blocked. The next minute, you were bent over and pinned to his desk. One of his hands had grasped your wrist, still gripping the dagger, the other hand on the back of your head. His body pressed into yours as you writhed and struggled, bucking your hips, kicking your leg out, but he was much too heavy.
"Let me know when you're ready to yield." He was very amused.
"Fuck you."
He laughed in a huff. The grip on your wrist went tighter. "Drop it," he demanded.
Any attempt at freeing yourself was proved useless. The dagger clattered on the desk and he tossed it aside, his own going back into his invisible pocket.
"Good girl. Now tell me you yield."
Silence. You'd rather die than give him the satisfaction.
"Suit yourself," he said. "It seems to me like you Midgardians need to be taught some manners." And slowly, his hand was brought to your back, running down the length of your spine. Teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut, you tried to remove yourself from the moment, knowing more than likely what was coming from the dominant, power-hungry male. But then, smack!
Your eyes shot open, the sting of your ass cheek startling you. Another hard spank, the sting almost making you yelp as your body went forward.
"Now," he said calmly, evenly in your ear as you looked straight ahead. "You have two options." Smack! "One, you stop being stubborn and admit your defeat." Smack! "Or two, you stay on this desk until I decide you've learned that lesson." Smack!
Your legs trembled as you held onto the edge of the desk. You hated him, hated this… and yet, a warm ache started to slowly whisper within. No, you couldn't… With every ounce of strength, you tried to block it out. "What… what are you gonna do to me?"
He chuckled and you couldn't quite tell if it was out of amusement or something darker. "Not to worry, my pet. I only bed willing participants."
His hand rested on the small of your back and he leaned forward. "Now, tell me. Have you learned your lesson?"
He caught your eye and you struggled to answer. How did you reply without letting him win? Maybe, if you said yes, he would lower his defenses and then you'd— Another spank caught you by surprise and a yelp escaped in spite of yourself. "I asked you a question and do not enjoy repeating myself."
You took a shaky breath, he had you so off guard and you hated how it was making you feel.
Looking up, you gave him the best innocent look you could muster and nodded slowly. He reached for the back of your head, gripping your hair to tilt your head up towards him with a jerk. "Have you?"
"Yes," you choked out. You hated him! You hated him! You hated him!
He considered you, bent over his desk, head bent back violently so, breathing heavily and shaking, and then, he just let you go. You stood after a beat, confused and feeling embarrassed.
"Leave," he demanded, walking out of the study to another room. Red-faced, your stomach churned. Did he seriously just…
"Hey!" you shouted, following his path to the other room, but when you got there, he was gone. Searching room by room, your anger built as you found each one empty.
A rage burned through your veins as you stormed down the hall toward Thor's chambers. You were done with this mission, with these stupid mind games, with the princes of Asgard. You wanted to go home and call the mission what it was–a failure.
Done with courtesy and manners, you barged into his chambers without warning. "Thor, I need to talk to you–"
The words caught in your throat as you stopped in your tracks, finding Loki already there. Thor said your name like a pleasant surprise. "You look an absolute wreck! Are you alright?"
"Wha–" the words caught in your throat as you looked down at your shifted top, feeling your face redden, hair a mess.
"Well, no matter," Thor continued. "Your ears must be ringing, we were just discussing your return to Midgard."
"You… you were?"
Loki's lack of eye contact was not lost on you.
"Indeed," Thor continued. "My brother believes that we have no use of you here and should send you back immediately. His words, not mine." Thor laughed, caused by your startled expression and Loki's uncharacteristic silence. "But, as neither of you are willing to speak freely on what matters are going on, I reject this request."
Both you and Loki raised your voices, you taking a step forward. How long did he plan to keep you here against your will?
Thor raised his hand. "You both think me a fool, but until I know why you are here, I will not change my mind. Classified or not."
Your jaw clenched, fists tightened, and you stormed out of his chambers, slamming the door behind you.
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Loki winced as the door slammed. "I don't believe she was happy with your decision."
"No, I think not. Anything you care to tell me?"
Loki shook his head. "There is nothing to tell. She's a nuisance and Asgard should be rid of her."
Thor placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Loki, you may be the god of lies, but even I can see through this one."
Loki left the chambers deep in thought. He absolutely despised Midgardians–mortals who risked their lives every day, absolute fools they were. Pompous, annoying little gremlins.
And yet, he had enjoyed the little game he was playing with you. You were a challenge for him and getting under your skin was pure pleasure. But, there was something in the look you gave him as he held your head up that he knew. It made him realize he was playing with fire, and this game was getting too dangerous. He needed to rid himself of you.
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Almost a week had passed and he hadn't reappeared. You'd toured the gardens, the library, the royal throne room, dined in their mess hall and terrace multiple times; it was clear by day three that he was actively avoiding you, and somehow that was even more irksome. It should have been a relief to be rid of his annoying presence, but you were equally on edge. What if he caught you off guard? The possibilities of what would happen were endless with that twisted mind of his. Torture you? Strangle you at night? The nights were restless, with every creak and whistle of wind making you jump.
By day five, enough was enough. If Thor wouldn't budge in sending you home and Loki wouldn't show himself, you would take matters into your own hands.
The nightly strolls through the halls were becoming commonplace, and it wasn't long before the familiar chamber doors stood before you again. The rooms were illuminated by moonlight. He was deep asleep in his bed, bare-chested with only a sheet to cover him at the hips. Your dagger was unsheathed and slowly you pressed it to his neck. His eyes opened and he took a sharp breath inward.
"Don't move," you whispered.
"Alright." His voice was steady.
"You're going to help me leave this planet."
His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Am I?"
"Yes."
"And…what if I refuse?"
You pressed the dagger harder to his neck. He could see the desperation on your face. "I don't think you are in a position to refuse."
He smirked at you, like he understood a joke you weren't in on. "Didn't you come to Asgard to kill me?"
He was absolutely the most abhorrent person you'd ever met. Why would he bring this up? Should you kill him? He was right there, the knife pressed to his neck. One swipe and…
He grabbed onto your arms, taking you out of your thoughts and pulling you closer to him. "Do it."
You blinked and froze. Something in your stomach twisted. "I… I can't. Why can't I kill you?"
In a quick motion, he rolled you onto your back, his weight heavy. Your hand shook and he leaned in, pressing down on the dagger, further and further, until his lips met yours. Your breath was lost and the dagger slipped between the two of you to clatter onto the floor. He gripped onto your clothes, pulling and tearing and breaking.
He wasn't gentle, wasn't kind. There was no room for romance or making love. It was carnal, rough. A desire that neither wanted to admit to themselves.
Pain in the most pleasurable form, as his lips pressed hard onto yours. As clothing was torn in desperation. As your undergarments were stretched and discarded until you were just as naked as he. His eyes and mouth and fingers explored the areas only meant for a lover.
His long digits played with your silky folds before delving into the warm wet center, causing you to shiver in delight. You reached down between your bodies to grasp on an already stiff cock, making it throb, a moan emitting from him like an ache that hadn't been relieved in years, before he took your hand from beneath him and placed it above your head. In a swiftness, he sheathed himself inside you, causing your eyes to grow large, your head to come forward, your teeth to sink into his skin. He shifted, looking down at you, the minx who had wanted him dead, and thought how beautiful and fragile you were. He could have snapped you in two like a twig if he had wished it. Instead, he'd punish you until you came, over and over again; tattooing his existence on your soul for the rest of your eternity.
The angle of his cock rubbed in a way you'd never felt before by any Midgardian man, and soon your body was convulsing below him. He let you ride out your high before flipping you onto your stomach and penetrating from behind. A shaky high-pitched moan emitted from you, making him smile in satisfaction. He wrapped his hands around your throat, bringing your head up higher to whisper with a smile, "I think you've admitted your defeat."
"You never shut up, do you?"
"Never."
With a smack of your bottom, he thrust into you until he was spent and you were ruined. The silky sheets of his bed melted into your skin as you lay quiet in thought after. You didn't fail missions. You also didn't fuck them. Contemplating what you'd write on your report, Loki emerged from the other room, dressed and ready to take you back to Midgard. He handed you the clothes you first arrived on this planet in.
As you dressed, preparing for your arrival back home, you studied him. He was, without a doubt, the most abhorrent, irritating person you'd ever met. And yet, something drew you to him that you didn't understand.
"Alright," he said when he saw you were dressed. "Let's get you back to where you belong." You nodded, wondering if you'd ever see him again, hoping you wouldn't…but not for the reason you'd expect.
Summary: The mission – Assassination of Loki Laufeyson.
Warnings: Light control and dominance, loathing, spanking, smut.
A/N: We're just gonna pretend the events takes a different route after the Battle of New York.
Personal A/N: Apologies for how long it's been. Was dealing with some personal things, including a pretty bad injury that I'm now recovering from. I also tend to write really slow. Please enjoy! Comments/feedback & reblogs are always much appreciated! 💚
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Nights like these were the best time to work. Silent, still, dark. A hunter on a mission for the next prey. But this one was new; you'd never hunted a god before. Breaths were drawn slow, methodical, focused. Keep your heart rate down, keep your steps in check.
You had been kept in the shadows of the Avengers, not fitting in with the pretty boy heros, genius doctors, or sexy vixens. You were a wallflower, a nightcrawler.
Sure, Black Widow, she was cute with her fancy moves and killer body. But you? They never even hear you coming.
With grace and stealth, you had slipped into Asgard undetected when the portal opened up to take Thor and Loki home after the Battle of New York. The rush to this new world had been nauseating, but with breaths through your nose to compose yourself, you slipped into the shadows.
The streets of Asgard were crowded and foreign, vendors shouting to grab your attention, new smells, twinkling lights and glimmering colors. A fine silk robe was lifted from a distracted shopkeeper, promising yourself that you'd return it once the mission was complete.
In only a few hours, you had worked your so-called magic to obtain the intel needed and now stood in the main hall of the Asgard royal prison. It had taken a bit of eavesdropping on a table of drunken guards and the power of persuasion with another to allow you entry into the palace's main gates. A small amount of combat and you had forced your way into the prison compound.
Adrenaline pulsed through your veins, knowing you were close. Turning the corner, the prisoners were found fast asleep in their glass panel prison cells. And then, you stopped in your tracks and held your breath. The raven haired terror, that pathetic excuse for a god, slept only a few meters from you. He looked peaceful, almost gentle, but looks were deceiving. You reminded yourself that he was ruthless and cruel, but not for long.
Knowing there were only minutes before a slew of Asgardian guards would come rushing in, you worked diligently to shut down the currents running through the security system. Loki stirred in his bed, but didn't awaken. The dagger was heavy, but it was all that was needed to finish the mission.
Hand firmly on the hilt, you took quiet, determined steps to his bed, taking one last look at the god in front of you, then bared your weight as you went for his heart. But there was no impact as his body faded away to nothing.
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How peculiar it was, these small other worldly creatures who thought they could defeat a god. In the shadows, he tsked at the young thing in front of him. So impatient, so immature. Who did they think he was? He emerged slowly, a sinister smile dancing on his face. You turned abruptly, eyes going wide knowing your advantage was lost…or had never been there to begin with.
"Did you really think you could slay me?" He chuckled to himself, very amused by this predicament. "I assure you, girl, it will take more than a knife and leather leggings to take down the god of mischief."
With a futile attempt, you lunged at him. He grabbed you like a rag doll, twisting your arm in an awkward angle until the metal clanged on the floor. A whimper escaped and he let go before it dislocated, only to wrap his hands around your throat and bring you to eye level with him. He watched in satisfaction as you struggled, choking and clawing at his hands.
"Don't worry pet," he leaned in closely to whisper in your ear. "I won't kill you, not yet. There'd be no fun in that."
He drew a finger down the side of your face, relishing in the thoughts of all the things he could do to his new captive, when a booming voice echoed through the prison corridor. "LOKI?!"
He sighed to himself in annoyance, always the killjoy to his fun. "Here, brother."
Thor stood in front of the prison cell, taking in the scene before him: Loki standing calm and poised, a small girl held at arm's length from the neck, face turning red, toes dragging on the ground. "What's going on here?"
"Well, dear brother, it appears our security is not what it once was. I caught this one lurking around." Your eyes darted to his. Why did he withhold the truth?
Thor squinted, cocking his head to the side to get a better look at you. And then, your name left his lips like an incredulous question.
Loki's face went from a look of surprise at his brother's recognition of you to amusement at what this meant. "You're Midgardian," he mused.
"Loki, release her," Thor demanded, hearing you struggle in his grip.
"I'll tell you what. Allow me to go back to my chambers freely, and this little minx will be handed over to your care."
"Loki…" Thor gave a gutteral warning. He was treading on thin ice, but they both knew who had the upper hand.
"It's a fair trade. It's clear she is important to you." Loki's eyes locked on yours. "Release me…or I crush her windpipe."
You flailed uselessly in a panic, his grip growing tighter, causing your eyes to water, face slowly turning to shades of purple.
"Fine, Loki! Go back to your chambers."
A look of satisfaction as he dropped you to the floor. You collapsed and breathed in deeply, rubbing the sensitive skin around your neck. Thor called the guards: two to escort you back to his personal chambers and another two to allow Loki free access to his wing.
Loki stepped over you as he left, clearly pleased with how his evening was ending. This wasn't over, but it was for now.
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Thor had given you free reign of his chambers for the time being, instructing a few maidens to assist with your care, tending to any wounds, assisting with bathing and dress, although you insisted on doing the majority yourself. He found you the next morning after some rest, fully pampered and lounging on a chaise, feet and shoulders massaged by maidens.
"I could get used to the life of a prince," you teased when he came into the chambers. He ignored your jest and sat down looking troubled.
"Leave us," he ordered the maidens, watching until they filed out of the room. When the door shut, he turned to face you. "I have spent the last few hours trying to comprehend why you would come to Asgard without my knowing, and have yet to come up with a reason that doesn't involve violence." Your arms folded as he looked for any admission of guilt.
"It's classified, Thor." Your voice stayed steady and strong, and his jaw tightened. He grabbed a goblet from a nearby table and threw it against the wall, making it shatter, but you didn't flinch.
"I will remind you," he said slowly, "that right now you are on my planet, and not under Tony's protection."
You blinked at the mention of your employer and ally's name.
"You know I won't break, Thor. If I were a threat, wouldn't Loki have requested to have me locked up in one of your prison cells?" Thor considered your words. "In any case, I will leave you in peace and return to Midgard. I'm sure you have enough to deal with right now."
"No…. I think you'll stay as our guest for a while. We have some chambers available on the east wing." Your stomach twisted at what his words really meant. A guest, disguised as a prisoner. Thor stared you down.
"And, if I refuse?"
Now Thor crossed his arms, leaning back on the chaise. "You've seen our prison cells. They can be quite accommodating as well."
You smiled at his offer. "The east wing will be fine."
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The maidens took lead to the east wing; you attempted to map the halls to memory, but after the twelfth turn, considered it was futile. You'd be lucky to find your way to freedom, let alone finding your primary target.
A brunette opened the door to the chambers, a hand held out to guide you in. "If you need anything, we will be right outside to assist."
Great, I have watchdogs.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in the adjoining apartments, studying from the open window the trimmed gardens, the various exits, the guards that roamed the outer courts and how often they changed. When your stomach started to rumble with hunger, like clockwork there was a light knock on the door, followed by a maiden poking her head in.
"Excuse me, my lady. Your presence is requested in the dining hall."
As you followed the silent maidens, you tried speaking as casually as possible. "Is Loki's chambers in the east wing?"
"No, my lady."
You frowned. "I would assume he has a full wing to himself?"
"If the prince wishes for you to know where his chambers are, he will show you the way."
The other maiden giggled quietly, then pulled herself together quickly before being seen. No doubt they assumed you were looking to bed the prince, not that you would correct them if it took focus off the real reason to be here.
The dining hall was as elaborate as it was giant; high backed velvet chairs, a table that went on forever it seemed, vaulted ceilings adored with golden arches and cherubs, servants stationed every few meters. It was hard not to feel completely out of place, but Thor made you feel welcomed enough, having plate after plate of the most decadent food placed in front of you. You had to hand it to Thor, he had learned to become more sly, perhaps by watching how others on the team worked. He made small talk about Midgard and the team, but would casually add a question here and there about why you were in Asgard.
You were tight lipped; it would take more than being wined and dined to make something slip. Mid-conversation, the door creaked and the guards and servants straightened up. Footsteps clicked on the marble floor around the corner out of view, but you already knew who was approaching.
When he appeared, his eyes darted from Thor to you but his face was like a stone, unreadable. He tilted his head to consider you, no doubt admiring the marks he'd left on your neck the night before. "Have we lowered ourselves to now dine with common criminals?"
He watched as your jaw set and heard Thor's booming laugh. "Loki, I'd like you to formally meet my friend–"
At the mention of your name, he scoffed. "We met. Might I advise that you be more particular in who you acquaint yourself with, brother."
"Like you?" Arms crossed, you leaned in the chair in defense. He was as annoying as he was cocky.
He watched the pulsing of the vein in your neck, the slight reddening of your face; he was getting under your skin. Good.
"My dear, I have more greatness in the tip of my finger than you in your entire being."
You scoffed. "Greatness, huh? Seems like that greatness delusion is what brought you back up here in chains."
"And yet," he said, holding out his arms, "no chains. Although, I guess I have you to thank for that."
Internally, you were screaming. Fantasies of diving across the table to gouge out his eyes and claw his face played in your mind. He was insufferable. Agitating. Annoying.
You needed to finish this mission and escape Asgard. The sooner this world was rid of Loki Laueyson, the better.
You stood, your plate of food unfinished, turning to Thor with a plastered smile. "Thank you for the lovely meal, Thor. Please, excuse me."
You wouldn't dare look at Loki, but you could feel his eyes on you, causing the hairs to raise on the back of your neck.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The halls had been quiet for hours and the only light in your room came from the glow of the moon and candlelight. You'd waited until it was almost inevitable that the maidens would have fallen asleep at their posting. Slipping by them was easy.
The occasional guard roamed the halls, but as you expected, was not as sharp. You slipped by two undetected, a third was put into a sleep hold and dragged into the shadows before anyone could be alerted.
The North Wing was far more rich in decor and aesthetics, with golden pillars and chandeliers. Loki's chambers were here, you were sure of it.
A sparkle of green in the shadows caught your eye. Was it a trick? Maybe, but he wouldn't take you by surprise this time.
The door was heavy and your steps were light as you entered the room. It was dark and smelled of cedar and leather. He was nowhere in sight, but you still kept to the walls.
A faint flicker of light in the next room caught your attention, a crackling fireplace, and there he appeared, reading in an oversized plush chair.
"You know, you're not as subtle as you think." He flipped the page, not even giving you the courtesy of looking up. "Thor had mentioned you were stealthy like a cat or something, but my oaf of a brother has about as much stealth as you do."
Your cheeks reddened in spite of yourself. He was absolutely infuriating. "Why did you lie?"
He finally looked up from his book, sliding a bookmark into the crease, a smirk playing on his lips. "You do realize that I'm the god of lies, don't you?"
"You could have told Thor why I was there, what I tried to do, and have me locked up. Why didn't you tell him?"
He made you feel so small when he stood, setting the book on a nearby coffee table. "Now where would the fun in that be?"
Taken aback, you blinked in response. "This…. This isn't a game."
He tsked and long daggers were revealed in his hands. "Darling, it's the best game there is."
He came forward at a fast pace. Your own weapons were drawn from your belt, ready to attack. Metal clashed in the middle of his study. He was impressed by your speed and agility, but he caused the first cut, a minor wound on your bicep. You responded by kicking him off his feet to pin him to the ground for only a moment before he flipped you over your head, losing one of your daggers in the process. With your hand free and he distracted, your fist made contact with his face.
A slur of curses were emitted. "You'll pay for that."
"We'll see." You smiled cockily, coming at him, but he was ready and provoked. One minute you had attacked him, a swipe of your blade and another punch blocked. The next minute, you were bent over and pinned to his desk. One of his hands had grasped your wrist, still gripping the dagger, the other hand on the back of your head. His body pressed into yours as you writhed and struggled, bucking your hips, kicking your leg out, but he was much too heavy.
"Let me know when you're ready to yield." He was very amused.
"Fuck you."
He laughed in a huff. The grip on your wrist went tighter. "Drop it," he demanded.
Any attempt at freeing yourself was proved useless. The dagger clattered on the desk and he tossed it aside, his own going back into his invisible pocket.
"Good girl. Now tell me you yield."
Silence. You'd rather die than give him the satisfaction.
"Suit yourself," he said. "It seems to me like you Midgardians need to be taught some manners." And slowly, his hand was brought to your back, running down the length of your spine. Teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut, you tried to remove yourself from the moment, knowing more than likely what was coming from the dominant, power-hungry male. But then, smack!
Your eyes shot open, the sting of your ass cheek startling you. Another hard spank, the sting almost making you yelp as your body went forward.
"Now," he said calmly, evenly in your ear as you looked straight ahead. "You have two options." Smack! "One, you stop being stubborn and admit your defeat." Smack! "Or two, you stay on this desk until I decide you've learned that lesson." Smack!
Your legs trembled as you held onto the edge of the desk. You hated him, hated this… and yet, a warm ache started to slowly whisper within. No, you couldn't… With every ounce of strength, you tried to block it out. "What… what are you gonna do to me?"
He chuckled and you couldn't quite tell if it was out of amusement or something darker. "Not to worry, my pet. I only bed willing participants."
His hand rested on the small of your back and he leaned forward. "Now, tell me. Have you learned your lesson?"
He caught your eye and you struggled to answer. How did you reply without letting him win? Maybe, if you said yes, he would lower his defenses and then you'd— Another spank caught you by surprise and a yelp escaped in spite of yourself. "I asked you a question and do not enjoy repeating myself."
You took a shaky breath, he had you so off guard and you hated how it was making you feel.
Looking up, you gave him the best innocent look you could muster and nodded slowly. He reached for the back of your head, gripping your hair to tilt your head up towards him with a jerk. "Have you?"
"Yes," you choked out. You hated him! You hated him! You hated him!
He considered you, bent over his desk, head bent back violently so, breathing heavily and shaking, and then, he just let you go. You stood after a beat, confused and feeling embarrassed.
"Leave," he demanded, walking out of the study to another room. Red-faced, your stomach churned. Did he seriously just…
"Hey!" you shouted, following his path to the other room, but when you got there, he was gone. Searching room by room, your anger built as you found each one empty.
A rage burned through your veins as you stormed down the hall toward Thor's chambers. You were done with this mission, with these stupid mind games, with the princes of Asgard. You wanted to go home and call the mission what it was–a failure.
Done with courtesy and manners, you barged into his chambers without warning. "Thor, I need to talk to you–"
The words caught in your throat as you stopped in your tracks, finding Loki already there. Thor said your name like a pleasant surprise. "You look an absolute wreck! Are you alright?"
"Wha–" the words caught in your throat as you looked down at your shifted top, feeling your face redden, hair a mess.
"Well, no matter," Thor continued. "Your ears must be ringing, we were just discussing your return to Midgard."
"You… you were?"
Loki's lack of eye contact was not lost on you.
"Indeed," Thor continued. "My brother believes that we have no use of you here and should send you back immediately. His words, not mine." Thor laughed, caused by your startled expression and Loki's uncharacteristic silence. "But, as neither of you are willing to speak freely on what matters are going on, I reject this request."
Both you and Loki raised your voices, you taking a step forward. How long did he plan to keep you here against your will?
Thor raised his hand. "You both think me a fool, but until I know why you are here, I will not change my mind. Classified or not."
Your jaw clenched, fists tightened, and you stormed out of his chambers, slamming the door behind you.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Loki winced as the door slammed. "I don't believe she was happy with your decision."
"No, I think not. Anything you care to tell me?"
Loki shook his head. "There is nothing to tell. She's a nuisance and Asgard should be rid of her."
Thor placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Loki, you may be the god of lies, but even I can see through this one."
Loki left the chambers deep in thought. He absolutely despised Midgardians–mortals who risked their lives every day, absolute fools they were. Pompous, annoying little gremlins.
And yet, he had enjoyed the little game he was playing with you. You were a challenge for him and getting under your skin was pure pleasure. But, there was something in the look you gave him as he held your head up that he knew. It made him realize he was playing with fire, and this game was getting too dangerous. He needed to rid himself of you.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Almost a week had passed and he hadn't reappeared. You'd toured the gardens, the library, the royal throne room, dined in their mess hall and terrace multiple times; it was clear by day three that he was actively avoiding you, and somehow that was even more irksome. It should have been a relief to be rid of his annoying presence, but you were equally on edge. What if he caught you off guard? The possibilities of what would happen were endless with that twisted mind of his. Torture you? Strangle you at night? The nights were restless, with every creak and whistle of wind making you jump.
By day five, enough was enough. If Thor wouldn't budge in sending you home and Loki wouldn't show himself, you would take matters into your own hands.
The nightly strolls through the halls were becoming commonplace, and it wasn't long before the familiar chamber doors stood before you again. The rooms were illuminated by moonlight. He was deep asleep in his bed, bare-chested with only a sheet to cover him at the hips. Your dagger was unsheathed and slowly you pressed it to his neck. His eyes opened and he took a sharp breath inward.
"Don't move," you whispered.
"Alright." His voice was steady.
"You're going to help me leave this planet."
His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Am I?"
"Yes."
"And…what if I refuse?"
You pressed the dagger harder to his neck. He could see the desperation on your face. "I don't think you are in a position to refuse."
He smirked at you, like he understood a joke you weren't in on. "Didn't you come to Asgard to kill me?"
He was absolutely the most abhorrent person you'd ever met. Why would he bring this up? Should you kill him? He was right there, the knife pressed to his neck. One swipe and…
He grabbed onto your arms, taking you out of your thoughts and pulling you closer to him. "Do it."
You blinked and froze. Something in your stomach twisted. "I… I can't. Why can't I kill you?"
In a quick motion, he rolled you onto your back, his weight heavy. Your hand shook and he leaned in, pressing down on the dagger, further and further, until his lips met yours. Your breath was lost and the dagger slipped between the two of you to clatter onto the floor. He gripped onto your clothes, pulling and tearing and breaking.
He wasn't gentle, wasn't kind. There was no room for romance or making love. It was carnal, rough. A desire that neither wanted to admit to themselves.
Pain in the most pleasurable form, as his lips pressed hard onto yours. As clothing was torn in desperation. As your undergarments were stretched and discarded until you were just as naked as he. His eyes and mouth and fingers explored the areas only meant for a lover.
His long digits played with your silky folds before delving into the warm wet center, causing you to shiver in delight. You reached down between your bodies to grasp on an already stiff cock, making it throb, a moan emitting from him like an ache that hadn't been relieved in years, before he took your hand from beneath him and placed it above your head. In a swiftness, he sheathed himself inside you, causing your eyes to grow large, your head to come forward, your teeth to sink into his skin. He shifted, looking down at you, the minx who had wanted him dead, and thought how beautiful and fragile you were. He could have snapped you in two like a twig if he had wished it. Instead, he'd punish you until you came, over and over again; tattooing his existence on your soul for the rest of your eternity.
The angle of his cock rubbed in a way you'd never felt before by any Midgardian man, and soon your body was convulsing below him. He let you ride out your high before flipping you onto your stomach and penetrating from behind. A shaky high-pitched moan emitted from you, making him smile in satisfaction. He wrapped his hands around your throat, bringing your head up higher to whisper with a smile, "I think you've admitted your defeat."
"You never shut up, do you?"
"Never."
With a smack of your bottom, he thrust into you until he was spent and you were ruined. The silky sheets of his bed melted into your skin as you lay quiet in thought after. You didn't fail missions. You also didn't fuck them. Contemplating what you'd write on your report, Loki emerged from the other room, dressed and ready to take you back to Midgard. He handed you the clothes you first arrived on this planet in.
As you dressed, preparing for your arrival back home, you studied him. He was, without a doubt, the most abhorrent, irritating person you'd ever met. And yet, something drew you to him that you didn't understand.
"Alright," he said when he saw you were dressed. "Let's get you back to where you belong." You nodded, wondering if you'd ever see him again, hoping you wouldn't…but not for the reason you'd expect.
SUMMARY: You miss Loki more than you care to admit… suppose it’s time you pay him a visit. 18+ MINORS DON’T INTERACT
WORD COUNT: 3,367
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is just a whole lot of tension with little resolve… sorry not sorry? I just really liked the vibe. (Honestly, I just didn’t feel like writing smut so… this is what y’all get hehe maybe I’ll eventually write a part two probably not)
MASTERLIST
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“Actually, it’s interesting…”
Exhaustively, you stare across the table in his direction, nodding and smiling —trying your best to remain as attentive as possible without giving away that you haven’t retained a single bit of the conversation because, at this rate, he’s been talking for hours. Yammering on about things like friends and family, and other such personal details you didn’t think you’d have to hear about, figuring this whole thing was just a setup for sex.
It’s what usually happens on these sorts of dates. The guy picks you up and takes you to dinner where the two of you talk about simple things like movies and music. The whole thing is very base-level in regards to getting to know each other. The conversations you have act more like placeholders to fill up the time until you both head back to his place.
At least, that’s the kind of date you thought this was going to be. The same kind you figured Natasha would set you up on, knowing that you weren’t looking for anything.
The BEST Loki/Tom Hiddleston Fics I’ve read: JUNE 2023
SERIES (Two Parts or More)
A fic that I’m hopelessly addicted to: Sex and Death by @liminalpebble
A fic that’s so, so, SO filthy: In Exchange of Submission (AO3) by @villainousshakespeare
A fic that is super dark and sexy: Nefarious by @cherienymphe
A fic that’s a warm hug on a cold day: The Sous Chef (AO3) by @nildespirandum (misreall)
A fic that ripped my heart out and stomped all over it: Letters by @those-late-night-feels
A fic that had me lol-ing throughout: A Royal Ruse by @wheredafandomat
DELECTABLE ONE-SHOTS
Bad Jotun (AO3) by @sass_and_sleep
In front of you stood Loki, stark naked, under the spray of the shower.
“Oops. I must have forgotten to lock the door. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
You stood there, jaw hanging. And then you made the biggest mistake of your life. You looked down.
Blindfolds by @bellesque
Your words morph into a whimper when Loki’s lips latch onto your pulse, his tongue swiping against your skin with every beat of your blood.
Loki returning from a successful battle - @fictive-sl0th
“Who just saved your pathetic, little realm today, darling?”
Temptress - @doomsdaybby
“Be a good girl and hand me a grape, won’t you?” Loki said as you filled his cup, forceful yet so gentle, but you knew he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You noticed Thor tense and all eyes were on you, nobody was going to rescue you.
Of Mermaids and Fairy Tales – @redfoxwritesstuff
“I think she’s very clearly a real mermaid.” Tom spoke up with a smile, not letting his eyes leave the beautiful creature for more then a moment. “How long has she been in?”
“Going on ten minutes” Mark answered.
“If she was just an actress, she would have had to surface for air by now.” Tom nodded to the boy, as an actor himself, he would know. “Clearly, she is the real deal.” Tom had no idea how she did it.
God of the Month by @maiden-of-asgard
“No, no, I’m good. It’s not the flu.” You laugh awkwardly, wrapping your arms around your waist. Freaking cramps. Standing up is just making things worse; you’re hunched over and longing to retreat to the couch, but you don’t want to seem rude. This whole situation is already incredibly weird.
Loki frowns. “Are you certain? You seem—”
“It’s that time of the month, okay?”
I’m Arriving - @justthehiddleswrites
You snapped your teeth at him. “Keep sticking that lip out and I might have to bite it.”
“Promise?” His brows raised.
Patterns - @tripleyeeet
“I just abandoned the date I was on.” The words spill out of you before you can even think to swallow them, a habit you’ve always hated in the presence of Loki who’s always loved the prospect of people revealing to him their secrets.
Find Tom 2 - @chantsdemarins
How could you have known that the remarkable business of bedding a movie star not only included being passionately taken on every mid-modern furnishing capable of withstanding Tom’s athleticism but also came replete with nuanced discussions of such things as little-known facets of British history?
Please don’t assume all fics are complete. Please DO assume everything is 18+. And for heaven’s sake read the warnings.
Tagging some people who reblogged the last few recs, in case you’re interested. If not, please ask to be taken off.
AN: Apologies to my Loki fan-fam. This one has been rolling around in my head for a while and I had to write it down.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The world had sometimes been a dangerous place before the outbreak. Now, danger was the norm. You couldn't turn a corner without facing it. Cordyceps, thieves, rapists, murderers–in the end, we were destined to turn into one of them. There was no such thing as living pure and good these days. Those people were dead, and everyone else had blood on their hands.
The QZ maintained order as much as possible, although even those who were expected to protect had their hands dipped in nefarious affairs. But survival was the name of the game, and we all tried our best.
Survival meant long hours as a cook for the QZ's cafeteria, learning how to stretch food to feed those remaining, learning how to ration, learning to keep your head down.
Another end to the typical 10-hour shift and the sun had just begun its descent. Untying the greasy apron to hang on the hook until tomorrow, the cellar keys were grabbed to store the remaining ingredients not used–nothing was to be wasted.
"Hey, I'm heading down." The burly security guard nodded quietly, watching while you carried the random stockpile of long-expired sugar, dried spices, garden vegetables, and tins. The cellar was cold and dark, well sealed to hopefully prevent rodents. Items were shelved and inventory checked, making sure nothing had been tampered or was rotting.
The door to the cellar creaked and then clicked shut, making you turn.
"Hello?" you called out, pulse quickening. It was unlikely that a Cordyseyps would make it into the QZ, but not impossible.
From the shadows, the security guard emerged. But, what at first was a sense of relief quickly turned to dread as his large hand covered your mouth and a sharp knife pressed to your throat.
"Don't scream and you don't die. Got it?" Confused, you trembled beneath his hand, your mind going blank. "Got it?"
Your head nodded slowly and he gave a sinister smile. The knife dragged painfully downward to your shirt, cutting it open. His other hand to the button of his pants as they popped open with a grunt.
"So fuckin' pretty. Gonna make you feel real good in a minute," he rasped and your eyes averted to the side, away from his receding hairline and crooked teeth, stomach clenching in disgust. His heavy, greedy form pushed against you, attempting to pin you against the wall a few feet away.
Hand reaching out, you blindly felt for anything as your pants were roughly tugged. Only a few seconds until they'd be ripped off. Fingers grazed plastic jars, bags, boxes too large, glass. In the chaos of fumbling hands and zippers opening, your hand latched onto a glass bottle and drove it down to his head with a thud.
He jolted in shock at the impact, the knife in his hand slicing open your forearm. A second blow to the head, a sickening crack of glass on bone, and then you bolted toward the exit in a panic, blood running down your arm. Was that yours or his?
You burst through the door to the evening chill and collided into the arms of a firm brick wall of a man. Just your luck to run from the arms of one man and into the arms of another.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Joel had sometimes wondered if a wanderer would be better off running into a Cordyceps or him. Who was the bigger monster? Both had been on the receiving end of screams and fear. Both were just trying to survive.
He hadn't had those thoughts for a few weeks, but he carried a reputation around town. Stares were ignored and rumors grew, but he didn't correct anyone. The more he was feared, the better.
Walking through midtown, another shift of burning the infected in the books, he looked forward to reclining on the couch and nursing a glass of whiskey. A door down the alley burst open and a small shaken frame collided into him. He had almost been as startled as you, wild-eyed, bloody, and trembling in his arms. Cheeks flushed, lip bleeding, shirt torn open. Damn, what kind of mess had she gotten herself in?
A guard appeared abruptly from the door and stopped short when he saw Joel. "Hold her," he yelled, slightly out of breath. "She needs to be detained."
He started towards you, pulling out zip ties, and Joel felt your grip on his shirt tighten.
"Why's she being detained?" Joel asked, calm and nonchalant, but he could feel your body trembling.
"That's none of your business."
Joel raised an eyebrow, putting a protective hand on your shoulder. He may not run this town, but he was typically given more respect than that by a guard. "Seems like it is my business now that I'm involved."
The guard's jaw flexed, considering Joel. "She assaulted a guard and resisted arrest for theft."
Joel looked from you to the guard, your eyes pleading with this stranger. Don't let me go with him. "This little thing assaulted you?"
The guard clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes at Joel. "And resisted arrest for theft."
Joel nodded, as if understanding clearly. "Did she also unzip your pants?"
The guard's face reddened, pulling the zipper up. "Hand her over."
Joel sighed. Just once, he'd like to have a day where there wasn't shit for him to clean up. "Listen, you had your little fun. But if you think she's going anywhere with you, you've got another thing comin'. It's time for you to leave before things get messy."
"Is that a threat?" he growled.
"No, it's a fact."
There was silence, Joel staring down the guard, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The guard looked between you and a man who might actually kill him.
"Fuckin' cunt," he mumbled, and spit on the ground at Joel's feet. Joel didn't move a muscle until the guard turned the corner, only then releasing his grip on you.
"Y'alright?" he asked.
You nodded out of habit, pulling your torn shirt over your chest in embarrassment. Was anyone alright these days?
Joel removed his flannel–a thin t-shirt underneath–and handed it to you, consciously trying his best not to stare at your lacy bra-clad breasts. It hadn't been that long since he'd seen a naked woman, but when was the last time that he'd seen one in something like that? Nowadays, everyone survived being practical–long lasting clothes, shelf stable foods, nothing frivolous.
You pulled his shirt on while whispering a thanks, careful to slip your cut arm through with a grimace.
"That could use some tending to," he said, looking down at the bloodied arm. "I'm just down here, can patch you up real quick."
No words came out when your mouth opened. You didn't know him. How could you kindly say that you didn't want to risk being assaulted twice in one day?
Noticing your hesitation, he rubbed his head in thought. "Or, I could get my med kit and bring it down. You can wait outside."
You nodded with a thankful smile and followed him to the gray brick building, one of the designated housing units within the QZ. He came back a few minutes later, a first aid kit tucked under his arm and a bottle of unlabeled alcohol in his hand.
"Where'd you get that?" you asked, medical supplies being hard to come by.
"Where does anyone get anything these days?" he replied cheekily.
Arm extended, his calloused hands gently brushed along your skin as he tipped the bottle to the wound, causing you to suck through your teeth in pain.
"Only hurts for a moment," he said, wiping away the excess blood. He was careful with you, slow to clean the wound, his dark eyes focused on tending to your arm.
"Don't think you'll need to be stitched up," he mumbled, placing a clean cloth over the wound, then wrapping it snugly with a roll of medical tape. "Good as new," he said when he was finished.
"What do I owe ya', doc?" you asked, examining your bandaged arm. He gave a slight smirk at the nickname, pulling you to your feet, his touch lingering for a moment before shoving his hand in his pocket. "It's on the house."
"Thank you…"
He gave you his name and you offered yours. The sky was in shades of pink and gray, the sun long since settled past the horizon.
"Let's get you back to your place before curfew."
You led the way, Joel striding with a casual gait next to you. Turning the corner on the block, you stopped in front of the steps to your building. "This is me."
You started to unbutton the flannel shirt to give back to him, but he shook his head. "Keep it. Looks better on you anyways."
Blushing in response, you pulled the shirt down. "Make sure you keep that wound clean and change the bandage in the mornin'."
"Yes doc." You smiled at him and were about to turn towards the door.
"Here," he said, pressing a small pocket knife into your palm. You turned it over in your hand, the smooth wooden handle worn down from years of use.
"I… I don't need that."
"Yes. You do." The way he said it was like it was final. The knife was pocketed and you looked up into his dark eyes, his forehead creased.
"Thanks. Goodnight Joel," you said, and he stood in front of your building until you were out of sight, safe for the night.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
It had been more than a week since the incident. The thought of not returning to work had crossed your mind, but no asshole was going to have that kind of power over you. Walking through the cafeteria door with your head held high and Joel's knife tucked away in your pocket, you discovered a new guard stationed. He stood watch at the front and nodded his head in your direction when he caught you staring.
Had the other guard been repositioned to a new post? Had Joel reported him? Either way, he wasn't worth a second thought, and you went about the day a little happier.
At the end of another long shift, your hands ached from peeling a bin of potatoes and your hair was coated in flour. Those long ago days of standing aimlessly under a hot shower were a distant memory, but sometimes you still daydreamed about it. How long had it been since you'd taken a proper shower, instead of the warmed up sponge baths you were all accustomed to now? Memories of those daily luxuries clouded your mind when you spotted Joel across the street.
"Hey doc," you said with a smile, crossing to meet him. To the average observer, Joel seemed to have a scowl, but you could see the corner of his lip turn up when he spotted you.
"How's the arm?"
You stretched it out, the same bandage wrapped around with clean cloth. "Sore, but healing."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm headed to the cafeteria. You hungry?"
You crinkled up your nose. "Hungry, yes. But there's no way I'm stepping back in that building after a 10-hour shift. Come with me."
He raised an eyebrow. "You know of somewhere else to get food?"
"You'll see."
Your apartment was a small studio–a bed, a table, a few chairs. In exchange for housing, you worked wherever there was a need. Knick knacks and artwork decorated window sills and walls. Joel wondered what was yours and what had been here before the outbreak.
"Make yourself at home," you said as your key clanged on the counter. Dried pasta and a tin of tomato sauce were pulled from a cupboard and set on the counter.
"Where'd you find that?" he asked, knowing everything was rationed and outside food was hard to come by.
"You have your secrets and I have mine," you said with a wink.
"So," you began, filling a pot with water and setting it to boil on the stove while watching Joel out of the corner of your eye. "I'm guessing you weren't a doctor…before..."
You trailed off and he shook his head, casually taking in the minimal decor, a small collection of books on one shelf, some plants you managed to dig up and repot on the window sills. "Construction," he said simply, picking up a brain teaser puzzle from the table and fiddling with the metal hooks.
"How long have you been in Boston?" he asked, watching as you pulled some spices from a high shelf, your shirt riding up when you reached. He turned his head in an attempt to focus on the brain teaser and hope you hadn't caught his stare.
"Few months now." Dried pasta was poured into the boiling water, watching as it swirled around with your wooden spoon. "My last QZ… it wasn't safe. A few of us snuck out. We'd heard Boston might be better."
You almost said it like it was a question, but Joel knew the answer. He'd seen his share of shit going down in Boston; hell, he'd sometimes been apart of it.
"Anyway, thank you for your help the other day. I don't want you to think I'm some damsel in distress, but… I'm grateful you were there."
And it was true, you didn't want him thinking you were helpless. But it felt so good to have someone protect you for once.
He shook his head. "Anyone who's survived this long I wouldn't consider to be a damsel in distress."
The sad attempt at a spaghetti marinara was placed in front of him. "Well, it's no Olive Garden, but…"
"It's perfect," he said, looking between you and the large plate. Timidly, you handed him one of the two forks and sat opposite of him, ready to dig in.
You and he ate in a semi-comfortable silence, occasionally chatting about the going-ons of the QZ. It was nice to have someone around, without needing to give a life story.
Studying him while he ate, you noticed a collection of scars on his arms and face, new wounds on his hands that were bruised and slowly scabbing over. But for all the marks that decorated his body, the scowl that he carried around with him, you felt comfortable in his presence, an inkling that he wouldn't hurt you.
After dinner, you walked him to the door and he paused in the frame, towering over you. He studied the flecks in your eyes and you smiled nervously.
There was something about you that he hadn't felt in a long time, like he needed to protect you from every fucker in this world. His stare made something twist inside you and looking down, you reached for his palm. He looked down at your touch, bringing the metal brain teaser between you.
"Figured I should trade you something for the knife. Let me know if you solve this one," you said, telling him good night and falling asleep in his flannel shirt.
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"I'm telling you, he saw it with his own eyes."
The kitchen crew huddled around as you walked in, tying the worn black apron around your waist.
"What are we talking about?" you asked the group, grabbing a bin of apples picked recently.
"Rob's roommate went on a patrol last night. He ran into one of the guards who had turned into a cordyceps."
You nodded, grabbing a knife from the drawer, slicing the apple in two. "Ok, that's nothing new."
"Yeah, but they found him tied to a tree."
Knife paused mid-cut, you lifted your head. "What?"
"The guy was tied up, like hands bound, feet tied, gagged, all tied up like someone left him there."
A cold chill slowly crept up your spine, "Who was it?"
They all shrugged their shoulders, no one giving a confirmed response, only speculations mumbled amongst themselves. Your heart pounded, stomach in knots. It couldn't be…. Could it?
When your shift was done, you raced to the gray brick building. Six stories high and you had no idea which apartment was his. Shit!
You had half a mind to just start knocking on every door. Pacing back and forth, your name was called and you looked up to see Joel walking toward you like an answer to a prayer.
"What are you–"
"I need to talk to you," you interrupted, coming up to him abruptly, eyes fierce. He could sense you were trying to control the quiver in your voice and raised his eyebrows. "Alright. Everything okay?"
You shook your head. "Not here."
He took you up to his apartment, holding the door as you walked in. The room was small, dark, and cold, the small brain teaser sitting on the counter.
"You okay?" he asked, closing the door behind you, a look of concern on his face.
Ignoring his inquiry, you turned on your heel to face him. "Did you kill him?"
It was demanding, accusational, harsher than you had meant. He stared at you quietly and your pulse thumped in your neck.
This world was difficult to survive in, and you'd scraped your way through it on your own wits and a lot of luck. There had been friends, family, acquaintances that were less than trustworthy, and most of them were either gone or dead. And here was this man you barely knew who came out of nowhere to protect you. It threw you off balance.
"What are you talking ab-"
"No Joel," you said, raising a hand to stop him. "Don't do that. Don't play dumb with me. That guard, did you kill him? Tell me the truth."
He studied you, this small fiery force that looked scared but put up a front. How had she survived this long, he wondered.
"Alright," he began slowly, "you want the truth? The truth is after I took you home, I saw him lingering around your building. I watched him, talking to the other guards, studying the building, pointing to your window. If I hadn't done what I did, he would have raped and killed you, and then probably come after me out of spite."
Stunned by his answer, you shook your head in disbelief. "You don't know that Joel. I didn't… I didn't ask you to do that!"
The guilt of this somehow being your fault weighed on you. There'd been so many deaths, so many infected, it just seemed like everyone was ticking away until there'd be no one left. He absentmindedly placed a hand on your arm in an attempt to calm you.
"Hey, hey," he said your name, pulling your eyes to his. "This isn't your fault. This isn't on you. He made his choices. That's on him, not on you."
You interjected–but, maybe I should have–but he pressed on, sternly. "Listen to me. If I hadn't done what I'd done, you wouldn't be standing here right now. It was either you or him, and I'd be damned if it was him." His tone softened. An orange glow emanated through the window behind him, curfew coming in a couple hours. "I know people like that. They'll prey on you, and you're too sweet to see it."
Joel didn't care for much of anything in this world. But the line in his forehead told you that somehow he cared for you.
"You could have been killed, Joel," you said shakily. "They could still hang you if they found out."
His jaw flexed. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant not letting that fucker touch you."
Something inside you sparked at his words and, without thinking, a hand reached up to take hold of the collar on his flannel, pulling him down to you. He hesitated, that ever present scowl forming on his face, but you knew better and pushed yourself up on your toes. Eyes never breaking contact, your lips brushed over his, a silent invitation.
His eyebrows creased, grappling between what he wanted to do and what he should do. You were delicate and quite possibly one of the last good people in this fucked up world, and he was a bad man. His thumb drew a line across your lips, their sheen drying on his thumb.
"It's getting late," he whispered.
"Yeah? Seems like I'm in the safest place I could be right now." Your smirk told him that you had him there. Fingers drew a line up his arm to his firm bicep, waiting for any telltale sign that you shouldn't be here. "It's ok, Joel."
Your words were so quiet, he almost didn't hear it with how bad his ear had been lately. But the look he gave told you he had. His other hand drew up, framing your face in his rough palms, and he captured your mouth with his. He wanted to be delicate with you, but he was not a delicate man, and when a low guttural moan escaped you, he knew he was fucked.
His hands trailed down before settling on your ass. Lifting up, your legs wrapped around his torso, arms around his neck, and his whiskers tickled your lips.
"Fuck, girl," he grunted. "Do you know what you're doing?"
You snickered, feeling the length of him pressed against you while he carried you to his bed of worn sheets and old blankets. Leaning in, you whispered in his ear, "Gonna show you how sweet I can be."
The air went out of him in a short huff and he set you down on the bed. He stilled as he took you in. There weren't many good moments in this world anymore, few that he cared to remember or cherish. But watching you lay there, waiting for him, it was a memory he'd hold onto when things got rough, when he ever felt lonely.
His chest heaved in anticipation as you reached up and pulled off your shirt, the same lacy black bra he'd seen before.
"Oh, you know exactly what you're doing," he mumbled and, grabbing hold of your ankles, slid you down to the edge. His arms caged around your head and he leaned in, a serious expression on his face. "You sure about this?"
You nodded, the anticipation causing you to tremble slightly.
"You gonna be a good girl for me and take off those pants?" That slow Texas drawl was as sweet as honey, and you moved maybe a little too quickly to unbutton your jeans, shimmying them down.
He chuckled to himself, thrilled to see how eager you were. Truth be told, it had been hard to connect with anyone after the outbreak. It was hard to trust, hard to hold onto anyone, hard to fucking relax. But, with Joel, you felt safe.
He pulled at the ankle of your jeans, slipping them off, then hooked a thumb through the waistband of your underwear. There was a confidence in his actions as he slipped them off and pocketed them. Dropping to his knees, you lifted up on your forearms, watching him with curiosity. It was a struggle to take his time, but he trailed some delicate kisses up your thigh before his mouth consumed your cunt. Head thrown back, you echoed an animalistic moan when he gripped onto your hips to keep you close.
"So fuckin' sweet," he mumbled, the whiskers of his beard tickling you in all the best ways. His tongue lapped rhythmically, making your toes start to twitch in rhythm. You gasped his name, running your fingers through his graying hair, gripping it when he found a special sweet spot.
"Right there," you choked out, holding onto your breath while he made you see stars. He dipped a finger in while swirling your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, then added a second. His fingers slid in and out, making you start to shake.
"Come on, sweet girl," he coaxed. "I know you're close."
Thighs gripping around his head, that final release caused you to moan and shudder and shake uncontrollably, not having let go that much since before the outbreak.
It was dark and hazy in his room, the only light from a crescent moon reflecting off him when he sat up and crawled toward you. His eyes were hungry with a desire that was not yet satisfied. You bit at your bottom lip, anticipating what he would do next.
"You doing ok sweet girl?"
"Yeah."
"Good," he said as he hovered over you. "Turn over."
Your eyes grew wide, but he didn't have to tell you twice. You rolled on your stomach and felt as he trailed kisses down your spine. The metal of his leather belt clanged as he unbuckled it, then the quick whine of his zipper.
"Come 'ere," he said as he gripped onto your hips and lifted you to your knees. You knew what he wanted and you tilted your back down and ass up higher.
"Like that?" you asked, feigning innocence. Joel tried to keep his composure, but you were too fucking much for him and he knew he wouldn't last long.
"Good girl," he choked out, gripping himself before sliding into you with ease. Your soaking cunt sucked him in effortlessly, and a chorused moan resounded through the room. You may have already cum once tonight, but by the way his cock stretched you, it was inevitable you'd cum a second time.
"Joel," you whispered over and over again as he thrust into you. There was no easing in or getting used to his size, he was past controlling himself to go gently. His movements were ragged, rough, needy.
Your pussy clenched around him, so close to that second release. He gripped onto you harder and pulled you up to him.
"Touch yourself," he drawled, and you reached down to rub at your clit. His mouth went to your ear, whispering, "I want you to cum on my cock."
You moaned in response, his hands roaming to your breasts while he thrusted.
It only took a few more pumps before you started to quiver, your head thrown against his shoulder in ecstasy. When he knew you were down from your high, he pulled out, him cum warm as it shot on your back and ass.
You laid on your stomach, fully spent and satisfied, while he searched for a towel to clean you up. Eyes closing while he wiped up his mess, you wondered if he had just marked his territory. Either way, you knew you were his.
AN: Apologies to my Loki fan-fam. This one has been rolling around in my head for a while and I had to write it down.
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The world had sometimes been a dangerous place before the outbreak. Now, danger was the norm. You couldn't turn a corner without facing it. Cordyceps, thieves, rapists, murderers–in the end, we were destined to turn into one of them. There was no such thing as living pure and good these days. Those people were dead, and everyone else had blood on their hands.
The QZ maintained order as much as possible, although even those who were expected to protect had their hands dipped in nefarious affairs. But survival was the name of the game, and we all tried our best.
Survival meant long hours as a cook for the QZ's cafeteria, learning how to stretch food to feed those remaining, learning how to ration, learning to keep your head down.
Another end to the typical 10-hour shift and the sun had just begun its descent. Untying the greasy apron to hang on the hook until tomorrow, the cellar keys were grabbed to store the remaining ingredients not used–nothing was to be wasted.
"Hey, I'm heading down." The burly security guard nodded quietly, watching while you carried the random stockpile of long-expired sugar, dried spices, garden vegetables, and tins. The cellar was cold and dark, well sealed to hopefully prevent rodents. Items were shelved and inventory checked, making sure nothing had been tampered or was rotting.
The door to the cellar creaked and then clicked shut, making you turn.
"Hello?" you called out, pulse quickening. It was unlikely that a Cordyseyps would make it into the QZ, but not impossible.
From the shadows, the security guard emerged. But, what at first was a sense of relief quickly turned to dread as his large hand covered your mouth and a sharp knife pressed to your throat.
"Don't scream and you don't die. Got it?" Confused, you trembled beneath his hand, your mind going blank. "Got it?"
Your head nodded slowly and he gave a sinister smile. The knife dragged painfully downward to your shirt, cutting it open. His other hand to the button of his pants as they popped open with a grunt.
"So fuckin' pretty. Gonna make you feel real good in a minute," he rasped and your eyes averted to the side, away from his receding hairline and crooked teeth, stomach clenching in disgust. His heavy, greedy form pushed against you, attempting to pin you against the wall a few feet away.
Hand reaching out, you blindly felt for anything as your pants were roughly tugged. Only a few seconds until they'd be ripped off. Fingers grazed plastic jars, bags, boxes too large, glass. In the chaos of fumbling hands and zippers opening, your hand latched onto a glass bottle and drove it down to his head with a thud.
He jolted in shock at the impact, the knife in his hand slicing open your forearm. A second blow to the head, a sickening crack of glass on bone, and then you bolted toward the exit in a panic, blood running down your arm. Was that yours or his?
You burst through the door to the evening chill and collided into the arms of a firm brick wall of a man. Just your luck to run from the arms of one man and into the arms of another.
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Joel had sometimes wondered if a wanderer would be better off running into a Cordyceps or him. Who was the bigger monster? Both had been on the receiving end of screams and fear. Both were just trying to survive.
He hadn't had those thoughts for a few weeks, but he carried a reputation around town. Stares were ignored and rumors grew, but he didn't correct anyone. The more he was feared, the better.
Walking through midtown, another shift of burning the infected in the books, he looked forward to reclining on the couch and nursing a glass of whiskey. A door down the alley burst open and a small shaken frame collided into him. He had almost been as startled as you, wild-eyed, bloody, and trembling in his arms. Cheeks flushed, lip bleeding, shirt torn open. Damn, what kind of mess had she gotten herself in?
A guard appeared abruptly from the door and stopped short when he saw Joel. "Hold her," he yelled, slightly out of breath. "She needs to be detained."
He started towards you, pulling out zip ties, and Joel felt your grip on his shirt tighten.
"Why's she being detained?" Joel asked, calm and nonchalant, but he could feel your body trembling.
"That's none of your business."
Joel raised an eyebrow, putting a protective hand on your shoulder. He may not run this town, but he was typically given more respect than that by a guard. "Seems like it is my business now that I'm involved."
The guard's jaw flexed, considering Joel. "She assaulted a guard and resisted arrest for theft."
Joel looked from you to the guard, your eyes pleading with this stranger. Don't let me go with him. "This little thing assaulted you?"
The guard clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes at Joel. "And resisted arrest for theft."
Joel nodded, as if understanding clearly. "Did she also unzip your pants?"
The guard's face reddened, pulling the zipper up. "Hand her over."
Joel sighed. Just once, he'd like to have a day where there wasn't shit for him to clean up. "Listen, you had your little fun. But if you think she's going anywhere with you, you've got another thing comin'. It's time for you to leave before things get messy."
"Is that a threat?" he growled.
"No, it's a fact."
There was silence, Joel staring down the guard, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The guard looked between you and a man who might actually kill him.
"Fuckin' cunt," he mumbled, and spit on the ground at Joel's feet. Joel didn't move a muscle until the guard turned the corner, only then releasing his grip on you.
"Y'alright?" he asked.
You nodded out of habit, pulling your torn shirt over your chest in embarrassment. Was anyone alright these days?
Joel removed his flannel–a thin t-shirt underneath–and handed it to you, consciously trying his best not to stare at your lacy bra-clad breasts. It hadn't been that long since he'd seen a naked woman, but when was the last time that he'd seen one in something like that? Nowadays, everyone survived being practical–long lasting clothes, shelf stable foods, nothing frivolous.
You pulled his shirt on while whispering a thanks, careful to slip your cut arm through with a grimace.
"That could use some tending to," he said, looking down at the bloodied arm. "I'm just down here, can patch you up real quick."
No words came out when your mouth opened. You didn't know him. How could you kindly say that you didn't want to risk being assaulted twice in one day?
Noticing your hesitation, he rubbed his head in thought. "Or, I could get my med kit and bring it down. You can wait outside."
You nodded with a thankful smile and followed him to the gray brick building, one of the designated housing units within the QZ. He came back a few minutes later, a first aid kit tucked under his arm and a bottle of unlabeled alcohol in his hand.
"Where'd you get that?" you asked, medical supplies being hard to come by.
"Where does anyone get anything these days?" he replied cheekily.
Arm extended, his calloused hands gently brushed along your skin as he tipped the bottle to the wound, causing you to suck through your teeth in pain.
"Only hurts for a moment," he said, wiping away the excess blood. He was careful with you, slow to clean the wound, his dark eyes focused on tending to your arm.
"Don't think you'll need to be stitched up," he mumbled, placing a clean cloth over the wound, then wrapping it snugly with a roll of medical tape. "Good as new," he said when he was finished.
"What do I owe ya', doc?" you asked, examining your bandaged arm. He gave a slight smirk at the nickname, pulling you to your feet, his touch lingering for a moment before shoving his hand in his pocket. "It's on the house."
"Thank you…"
He gave you his name and you offered yours. The sky was in shades of pink and gray, the sun long since settled past the horizon.
"Let's get you back to your place before curfew."
You led the way, Joel striding with a casual gait next to you. Turning the corner on the block, you stopped in front of the steps to your building. "This is me."
You started to unbutton the flannel shirt to give back to him, but he shook his head. "Keep it. Looks better on you anyways."
Blushing in response, you pulled the shirt down. "Make sure you keep that wound clean and change the bandage in the mornin'."
"Yes doc." You smiled at him and were about to turn towards the door.
"Here," he said, pressing a small pocket knife into your palm. You turned it over in your hand, the smooth wooden handle worn down from years of use.
"I… I don't need that."
"Yes. You do." The way he said it was like it was final. The knife was pocketed and you looked up into his dark eyes, his forehead creased.
"Thanks. Goodnight Joel," you said, and he stood in front of your building until you were out of sight, safe for the night.
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It had been more than a week since the incident. The thought of not returning to work had crossed your mind, but no asshole was going to have that kind of power over you. Walking through the cafeteria door with your head held high and Joel's knife tucked away in your pocket, you discovered a new guard stationed. He stood watch at the front and nodded his head in your direction when he caught you staring.
Had the other guard been repositioned to a new post? Had Joel reported him? Either way, he wasn't worth a second thought, and you went about the day a little happier.
At the end of another long shift, your hands ached from peeling a bin of potatoes and your hair was coated in flour. Those long ago days of standing aimlessly under a hot shower were a distant memory, but sometimes you still daydreamed about it. How long had it been since you'd taken a proper shower, instead of the warmed up sponge baths you were all accustomed to now? Memories of those daily luxuries clouded your mind when you spotted Joel across the street.
"Hey doc," you said with a smile, crossing to meet him. To the average observer, Joel seemed to have a scowl, but you could see the corner of his lip turn up when he spotted you.
"How's the arm?"
You stretched it out, the same bandage wrapped around with clean cloth. "Sore, but healing."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm headed to the cafeteria. You hungry?"
You crinkled up your nose. "Hungry, yes. But there's no way I'm stepping back in that building after a 10-hour shift. Come with me."
He raised an eyebrow. "You know of somewhere else to get food?"
"You'll see."
Your apartment was a small studio–a bed, a table, a few chairs. In exchange for housing, you worked wherever there was a need. Knick knacks and artwork decorated window sills and walls. Joel wondered what was yours and what had been here before the outbreak.
"Make yourself at home," you said as your key clanged on the counter. Dried pasta and a tin of tomato sauce were pulled from a cupboard and set on the counter.
"Where'd you find that?" he asked, knowing everything was rationed and outside food was hard to come by.
"You have your secrets and I have mine," you said with a wink.
"So," you began, filling a pot with water and setting it to boil on the stove while watching Joel out of the corner of your eye. "I'm guessing you weren't a doctor…before..."
You trailed off and he shook his head, casually taking in the minimal decor, a small collection of books on one shelf, some plants you managed to dig up and repot on the window sills. "Construction," he said simply, picking up a brain teaser puzzle from the table and fiddling with the metal hooks.
"How long have you been in Boston?" he asked, watching as you pulled some spices from a high shelf, your shirt riding up when you reached. He turned his head in an attempt to focus on the brain teaser and hope you hadn't caught his stare.
"Few months now." Dried pasta was poured into the boiling water, watching as it swirled around with your wooden spoon. "My last QZ… it wasn't safe. A few of us snuck out. We'd heard Boston might be better."
You almost said it like it was a question, but Joel knew the answer. He'd seen his share of shit going down in Boston; hell, he'd sometimes been apart of it.
"Anyway, thank you for your help the other day. I don't want you to think I'm some damsel in distress, but… I'm grateful you were there."
And it was true, you didn't want him thinking you were helpless. But it felt so good to have someone protect you for once.
He shook his head. "Anyone who's survived this long I wouldn't consider to be a damsel in distress."
The sad attempt at a spaghetti marinara was placed in front of him. "Well, it's no Olive Garden, but…"
"It's perfect," he said, looking between you and the large plate. Timidly, you handed him one of the two forks and sat opposite of him, ready to dig in.
You and he ate in a semi-comfortable silence, occasionally chatting about the going-ons of the QZ. It was nice to have someone around, without needing to give a life story.
Studying him while he ate, you noticed a collection of scars on his arms and face, new wounds on his hands that were bruised and slowly scabbing over. But for all the marks that decorated his body, the scowl that he carried around with him, you felt comfortable in his presence, an inkling that he wouldn't hurt you.
After dinner, you walked him to the door and he paused in the frame, towering over you. He studied the flecks in your eyes and you smiled nervously.
There was something about you that he hadn't felt in a long time, like he needed to protect you from every fucker in this world. His stare made something twist inside you and looking down, you reached for his palm. He looked down at your touch, bringing the metal brain teaser between you.
"Figured I should trade you something for the knife. Let me know if you solve this one," you said, telling him good night and falling asleep in his flannel shirt.
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"I'm telling you, he saw it with his own eyes."
The kitchen crew huddled around as you walked in, tying the worn black apron around your waist.
"What are we talking about?" you asked the group, grabbing a bin of apples picked recently.
"Rob's roommate went on a patrol last night. He ran into one of the guards who had turned into a cordyceps."
You nodded, grabbing a knife from the drawer, slicing the apple in two. "Ok, that's nothing new."
"Yeah, but they found him tied to a tree."
Knife paused mid-cut, you lifted your head. "What?"
"The guy was tied up, like hands bound, feet tied, gagged, all tied up like someone left him there."
A cold chill slowly crept up your spine, "Who was it?"
They all shrugged their shoulders, no one giving a confirmed response, only speculations mumbled amongst themselves. Your heart pounded, stomach in knots. It couldn't be…. Could it?
When your shift was done, you raced to the gray brick building. Six stories high and you had no idea which apartment was his. Shit!
You had half a mind to just start knocking on every door. Pacing back and forth, your name was called and you looked up to see Joel walking toward you like an answer to a prayer.
"What are you–"
"I need to talk to you," you interrupted, coming up to him abruptly, eyes fierce. He could sense you were trying to control the quiver in your voice and raised his eyebrows. "Alright. Everything okay?"
You shook your head. "Not here."
He took you up to his apartment, holding the door as you walked in. The room was small, dark, and cold, the small brain teaser sitting on the counter.
"You okay?" he asked, closing the door behind you, a look of concern on his face.
Ignoring his inquiry, you turned on your heel to face him. "Did you kill him?"
It was demanding, accusational, harsher than you had meant. He stared at you quietly and your pulse thumped in your neck.
This world was difficult to survive in, and you'd scraped your way through it on your own wits and a lot of luck. There had been friends, family, acquaintances that were less than trustworthy, and most of them were either gone or dead. And here was this man you barely knew who came out of nowhere to protect you. It threw you off balance.
"What are you talking ab-"
"No Joel," you said, raising a hand to stop him. "Don't do that. Don't play dumb with me. That guard, did you kill him? Tell me the truth."
He studied you, this small fiery force that looked scared but put up a front. How had she survived this long, he wondered.
"Alright," he began slowly, "you want the truth? The truth is after I took you home, I saw him lingering around your building. I watched him, talking to the other guards, studying the building, pointing to your window. If I hadn't done what I did, he would have raped and killed you, and then probably come after me out of spite."
Stunned by his answer, you shook your head in disbelief. "You don't know that Joel. I didn't… I didn't ask you to do that!"
The guilt of this somehow being your fault weighed on you. There'd been so many deaths, so many infected, it just seemed like everyone was ticking away until there'd be no one left. He absentmindedly placed a hand on your arm in an attempt to calm you.
"Hey, hey," he said your name, pulling your eyes to his. "This isn't your fault. This isn't on you. He made his choices. That's on him, not on you."
You interjected–but, maybe I should have–but he pressed on, sternly. "Listen to me. If I hadn't done what I'd done, you wouldn't be standing here right now. It was either you or him, and I'd be damned if it was him." His tone softened. An orange glow emanated through the window behind him, curfew coming in a couple hours. "I know people like that. They'll prey on you, and you're too sweet to see it."
Joel didn't care for much of anything in this world. But the line in his forehead told you that somehow he cared for you.
"You could have been killed, Joel," you said shakily. "They could still hang you if they found out."
His jaw flexed. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant not letting that fucker touch you."
Something inside you sparked at his words and, without thinking, a hand reached up to take hold of the collar on his flannel, pulling him down to you. He hesitated, that ever present scowl forming on his face, but you knew better and pushed yourself up on your toes. Eyes never breaking contact, your lips brushed over his, a silent invitation.
His eyebrows creased, grappling between what he wanted to do and what he should do. You were delicate and quite possibly one of the last good people in this fucked up world, and he was a bad man. His thumb drew a line across your lips, their sheen drying on his thumb.
"It's getting late," he whispered.
"Yeah? Seems like I'm in the safest place I could be right now." Your smirk told him that you had him there. Fingers drew a line up his arm to his firm bicep, waiting for any telltale sign that you shouldn't be here. "It's ok, Joel."
Your words were so quiet, he almost didn't hear it with how bad his ear had been lately. But the look he gave told you he had. His other hand drew up, framing your face in his rough palms, and he captured your mouth with his. He wanted to be delicate with you, but he was not a delicate man, and when a low guttural moan escaped you, he knew he was fucked.
His hands trailed down before settling on your ass. Lifting up, your legs wrapped around his torso, arms around his neck, and his whiskers tickled your lips.
"Fuck, girl," he grunted. "Do you know what you're doing?"
You snickered, feeling the length of him pressed against you while he carried you to his bed of worn sheets and old blankets. Leaning in, you whispered in his ear, "Gonna show you how sweet I can be."
The air went out of him in a short huff and he set you down on the bed. He stilled as he took you in. There weren't many good moments in this world anymore, few that he cared to remember or cherish. But watching you lay there, waiting for him, it was a memory he'd hold onto when things got rough, when he ever felt lonely.
His chest heaved in anticipation as you reached up and pulled off your shirt, the same lacy black bra he'd seen before.
"Oh, you know exactly what you're doing," he mumbled and, grabbing hold of your ankles, slid you down to the edge. His arms caged around your head and he leaned in, a serious expression on his face. "You sure about this?"
You nodded, the anticipation causing you to tremble slightly.
"You gonna be a good girl for me and take off those pants?" That slow Texas drawl was as sweet as honey, and you moved maybe a little too quickly to unbutton your jeans, shimmying them down.
He chuckled to himself, thrilled to see how eager you were. Truth be told, it had been hard to connect with anyone after the outbreak. It was hard to trust, hard to hold onto anyone, hard to fucking relax. But, with Joel, you felt safe.
He pulled at the ankle of your jeans, slipping them off, then hooked a thumb through the waistband of your underwear. There was a confidence in his actions as he slipped them off and pocketed them. Dropping to his knees, you lifted up on your forearms, watching him with curiosity. It was a struggle to take his time, but he trailed some delicate kisses up your thigh before his mouth consumed your cunt. Head thrown back, you echoed an animalistic moan when he gripped onto your hips to keep you close.
"So fuckin' sweet," he mumbled, the whiskers of his beard tickling you in all the best ways. His tongue lapped rhythmically, making your toes start to twitch in rhythm. You gasped his name, running your fingers through his graying hair, gripping it when he found a special sweet spot.
"Right there," you choked out, holding onto your breath while he made you see stars. He dipped a finger in while swirling your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, then added a second. His fingers slid in and out, making you start to shake.
"Come on, sweet girl," he coaxed. "I know you're close."
Thighs gripping around his head, that final release caused you to moan and shudder and shake uncontrollably, not having let go that much since before the outbreak.
It was dark and hazy in his room, the only light from a crescent moon reflecting off him when he sat up and crawled toward you. His eyes were hungry with a desire that was not yet satisfied. You bit at your bottom lip, anticipating what he would do next.
"You doing ok sweet girl?"
"Yeah."
"Good," he said as he hovered over you. "Turn over."
Your eyes grew wide, but he didn't have to tell you twice. You rolled on your stomach and felt as he trailed kisses down your spine. The metal of his leather belt clanged as he unbuckled it, then the quick whine of his zipper.
"Come 'ere," he said as he gripped onto your hips and lifted you to your knees. You knew what he wanted and you tilted your back down and ass up higher.
"Like that?" you asked, feigning innocence. Joel tried to keep his composure, but you were too fucking much for him and he knew he wouldn't last long.
"Good girl," he choked out, gripping himself before sliding into you with ease. Your soaking cunt sucked him in effortlessly, and a chorused moan resounded through the room. You may have already cum once tonight, but by the way his cock stretched you, it was inevitable you'd cum a second time.
"Joel," you whispered over and over again as he thrust into you. There was no easing in or getting used to his size, he was past controlling himself to go gently. His movements were ragged, rough, needy.
Your pussy clenched around him, so close to that second release. He gripped onto you harder and pulled you up to him.
"Touch yourself," he drawled, and you reached down to rub at your clit. His mouth went to your ear, whispering, "I want you to cum on my cock."
You moaned in response, his hands roaming to your breasts while he thrusted.
It only took a few more pumps before you started to quiver, your head thrown against his shoulder in ecstasy. When he knew you were down from your high, he pulled out, him cum warm as it shot on your back and ass.
You laid on your stomach, fully spent and satisfied, while he searched for a towel to clean you up. Eyes closing while he wiped up his mess, you wondered if he had just marked his territory. Either way, you knew you were his.
AN: Apologies to my Loki fan-fam. This one has been rolling around in my head for a while and I had to write it down.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The world had sometimes been a dangerous place before the outbreak. Now, danger was the norm. You couldn't turn a corner without facing it. Cordyceps, thieves, rapists, murderers–in the end, we were destined to turn into one of them. There was no such thing as living pure and good these days. Those people were dead, and everyone else had blood on their hands.
The QZ maintained order as much as possible, although even those who were expected to protect had their hands dipped in nefarious affairs. But survival was the name of the game, and we all tried our best.
Survival meant long hours as a cook for the QZ's cafeteria, learning how to stretch food to feed those remaining, learning how to ration, learning to keep your head down.
Another end to the typical 10-hour shift and the sun had just begun its descent. Untying the greasy apron to hang on the hook until tomorrow, the cellar keys were grabbed to store the remaining ingredients not used–nothing was to be wasted.
"Hey, I'm heading down." The burly security guard nodded quietly, watching while you carried the random stockpile of long-expired sugar, dried spices, garden vegetables, and tins. The cellar was cold and dark, well sealed to hopefully prevent rodents. Items were shelved and inventory checked, making sure nothing had been tampered or was rotting.
The door to the cellar creaked and then clicked shut, making you turn.
"Hello?" you called out, pulse quickening. It was unlikely that a Cordyseyps would make it into the QZ, but not impossible.
From the shadows, the security guard emerged. But, what at first was a sense of relief quickly turned to dread as his large hand covered your mouth and a sharp knife pressed to your throat.
"Don't scream and you don't die. Got it?" Confused, you trembled beneath his hand, your mind going blank. "Got it?"
Your head nodded slowly and he gave a sinister smile. The knife dragged painfully downward to your shirt, cutting it open. His other hand to the button of his pants as they popped open with a grunt.
"So fuckin' pretty. Gonna make you feel real good in a minute," he rasped and your eyes averted to the side, away from his receding hairline and crooked teeth, stomach clenching in disgust. His heavy, greedy form pushed against you, attempting to pin you against the wall a few feet away.
Hand reaching out, you blindly felt for anything as your pants were roughly tugged. Only a few seconds until they'd be ripped off. Fingers grazed plastic jars, bags, boxes too large, glass. In the chaos of fumbling hands and zippers opening, your hand latched onto a glass bottle and drove it down to his head with a thud.
He jolted in shock at the impact, the knife in his hand slicing open your forearm. A second blow to the head, a sickening crack of glass on bone, and then you bolted toward the exit in a panic, blood running down your arm. Was that yours or his?
You burst through the door to the evening chill and collided into the arms of a firm brick wall of a man. Just your luck to run from the arms of one man and into the arms of another.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Joel had sometimes wondered if a wanderer would be better off running into a Cordyceps or him. Who was the bigger monster? Both had been on the receiving end of screams and fear. Both were just trying to survive.
He hadn't had those thoughts for a few weeks, but he carried a reputation around town. Stares were ignored and rumors grew, but he didn't correct anyone. The more he was feared, the better.
Walking through midtown, another shift of burning the infected in the books, he looked forward to reclining on the couch and nursing a glass of whiskey. A door down the alley burst open and a small shaken frame collided into him. He had almost been as startled as you, wild-eyed, bloody, and trembling in his arms. Cheeks flushed, lip bleeding, shirt torn open. Damn, what kind of mess had she gotten herself in?
A guard appeared abruptly from the door and stopped short when he saw Joel. "Hold her," he yelled, slightly out of breath. "She needs to be detained."
He started towards you, pulling out zip ties, and Joel felt your grip on his shirt tighten.
"Why's she being detained?" Joel asked, calm and nonchalant, but he could feel your body trembling.
"That's none of your business."
Joel raised an eyebrow, putting a protective hand on your shoulder. He may not run this town, but he was typically given more respect than that by a guard. "Seems like it is my business now that I'm involved."
The guard's jaw flexed, considering Joel. "She assaulted a guard and resisted arrest for theft."
Joel looked from you to the guard, your eyes pleading with this stranger. Don't let me go with him. "This little thing assaulted you?"
The guard clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes at Joel. "And resisted arrest for theft."
Joel nodded, as if understanding clearly. "Did she also unzip your pants?"
The guard's face reddened, pulling the zipper up. "Hand her over."
Joel sighed. Just once, he'd like to have a day where there wasn't shit for him to clean up. "Listen, you had your little fun. But if you think she's going anywhere with you, you've got another thing comin'. It's time for you to leave before things get messy."
"Is that a threat?" he growled.
"No, it's a fact."
There was silence, Joel staring down the guard, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The guard looked between you and a man who might actually kill him.
"Fuckin' cunt," he mumbled, and spit on the ground at Joel's feet. Joel didn't move a muscle until the guard turned the corner, only then releasing his grip on you.
"Y'alright?" he asked.
You nodded out of habit, pulling your torn shirt over your chest in embarrassment. Was anyone alright these days?
Joel removed his flannel–a thin t-shirt underneath–and handed it to you, consciously trying his best not to stare at your lacy bra-clad breasts. It hadn't been that long since he'd seen a naked woman, but when was the last time that he'd seen one in something like that? Nowadays, everyone survived being practical–long lasting clothes, shelf stable foods, nothing frivolous.
You pulled his shirt on while whispering a thanks, careful to slip your cut arm through with a grimace.
"That could use some tending to," he said, looking down at the bloodied arm. "I'm just down here, can patch you up real quick."
No words came out when your mouth opened. You didn't know him. How could you kindly say that you didn't want to risk being assaulted twice in one day?
Noticing your hesitation, he rubbed his head in thought. "Or, I could get my med kit and bring it down. You can wait outside."
You nodded with a thankful smile and followed him to the gray brick building, one of the designated housing units within the QZ. He came back a few minutes later, a first aid kit tucked under his arm and a bottle of unlabeled alcohol in his hand.
"Where'd you get that?" you asked, medical supplies being hard to come by.
"Where does anyone get anything these days?" he replied cheekily.
Arm extended, his calloused hands gently brushed along your skin as he tipped the bottle to the wound, causing you to suck through your teeth in pain.
"Only hurts for a moment," he said, wiping away the excess blood. He was careful with you, slow to clean the wound, his dark eyes focused on tending to your arm.
"Don't think you'll need to be stitched up," he mumbled, placing a clean cloth over the wound, then wrapping it snugly with a roll of medical tape. "Good as new," he said when he was finished.
"What do I owe ya', doc?" you asked, examining your bandaged arm. He gave a slight smirk at the nickname, pulling you to your feet, his touch lingering for a moment before shoving his hand in his pocket. "It's on the house."
"Thank you…"
He gave you his name and you offered yours. The sky was in shades of pink and gray, the sun long since settled past the horizon.
"Let's get you back to your place before curfew."
You led the way, Joel striding with a casual gait next to you. Turning the corner on the block, you stopped in front of the steps to your building. "This is me."
You started to unbutton the flannel shirt to give back to him, but he shook his head. "Keep it. Looks better on you anyways."
Blushing in response, you pulled the shirt down. "Make sure you keep that wound clean and change the bandage in the mornin'."
"Yes doc." You smiled at him and were about to turn towards the door.
"Here," he said, pressing a small pocket knife into your palm. You turned it over in your hand, the smooth wooden handle worn down from years of use.
"I… I don't need that."
"Yes. You do." The way he said it was like it was final. The knife was pocketed and you looked up into his dark eyes, his forehead creased.
"Thanks. Goodnight Joel," you said, and he stood in front of your building until you were out of sight, safe for the night.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
It had been more than a week since the incident. The thought of not returning to work had crossed your mind, but no asshole was going to have that kind of power over you. Walking through the cafeteria door with your head held high and Joel's knife tucked away in your pocket, you discovered a new guard stationed. He stood watch at the front and nodded his head in your direction when he caught you staring.
Had the other guard been repositioned to a new post? Had Joel reported him? Either way, he wasn't worth a second thought, and you went about the day a little happier.
At the end of another long shift, your hands ached from peeling a bin of potatoes and your hair was coated in flour. Those long ago days of standing aimlessly under a hot shower were a distant memory, but sometimes you still daydreamed about it. How long had it been since you'd taken a proper shower, instead of the warmed up sponge baths you were all accustomed to now? Memories of those daily luxuries clouded your mind when you spotted Joel across the street.
"Hey doc," you said with a smile, crossing to meet him. To the average observer, Joel seemed to have a scowl, but you could see the corner of his lip turn up when he spotted you.
"How's the arm?"
You stretched it out, the same bandage wrapped around with clean cloth. "Sore, but healing."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm headed to the cafeteria. You hungry?"
You crinkled up your nose. "Hungry, yes. But there's no way I'm stepping back in that building after a 10-hour shift. Come with me."
He raised an eyebrow. "You know of somewhere else to get food?"
"You'll see."
Your apartment was a small studio–a bed, a table, a few chairs. In exchange for housing, you worked wherever there was a need. Knick knacks and artwork decorated window sills and walls. Joel wondered what was yours and what had been here before the outbreak.
"Make yourself at home," you said as your key clanged on the counter. Dried pasta and a tin of tomato sauce were pulled from a cupboard and set on the counter.
"Where'd you find that?" he asked, knowing everything was rationed and outside food was hard to come by.
"You have your secrets and I have mine," you said with a wink.
"So," you began, filling a pot with water and setting it to boil on the stove while watching Joel out of the corner of your eye. "I'm guessing you weren't a doctor…before..."
You trailed off and he shook his head, casually taking in the minimal decor, a small collection of books on one shelf, some plants you managed to dig up and repot on the window sills. "Construction," he said simply, picking up a brain teaser puzzle from the table and fiddling with the metal hooks.
"How long have you been in Boston?" he asked, watching as you pulled some spices from a high shelf, your shirt riding up when you reached. He turned his head in an attempt to focus on the brain teaser and hope you hadn't caught his stare.
"Few months now." Dried pasta was poured into the boiling water, watching as it swirled around with your wooden spoon. "My last QZ… it wasn't safe. A few of us snuck out. We'd heard Boston might be better."
You almost said it like it was a question, but Joel knew the answer. He'd seen his share of shit going down in Boston; hell, he'd sometimes been apart of it.
"Anyway, thank you for your help the other day. I don't want you to think I'm some damsel in distress, but… I'm grateful you were there."
And it was true, you didn't want him thinking you were helpless. But it felt so good to have someone protect you for once.
He shook his head. "Anyone who's survived this long I wouldn't consider to be a damsel in distress."
The sad attempt at a spaghetti marinara was placed in front of him. "Well, it's no Olive Garden, but…"
"It's perfect," he said, looking between you and the large plate. Timidly, you handed him one of the two forks and sat opposite of him, ready to dig in.
You and he ate in a semi-comfortable silence, occasionally chatting about the going-ons of the QZ. It was nice to have someone around, without needing to give a life story.
Studying him while he ate, you noticed a collection of scars on his arms and face, new wounds on his hands that were bruised and slowly scabbing over. But for all the marks that decorated his body, the scowl that he carried around with him, you felt comfortable in his presence, an inkling that he wouldn't hurt you.
After dinner, you walked him to the door and he paused in the frame, towering over you. He studied the flecks in your eyes and you smiled nervously.
There was something about you that he hadn't felt in a long time, like he needed to protect you from every fucker in this world. His stare made something twist inside you and looking down, you reached for his palm. He looked down at your touch, bringing the metal brain teaser between you.
"Figured I should trade you something for the knife. Let me know if you solve this one," you said, telling him good night and falling asleep in his flannel shirt.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
"I'm telling you, he saw it with his own eyes."
The kitchen crew huddled around as you walked in, tying the worn black apron around your waist.
"What are we talking about?" you asked the group, grabbing a bin of apples picked recently.
"Rob's roommate went on a patrol last night. He ran into one of the guards who had turned into a cordyceps."
You nodded, grabbing a knife from the drawer, slicing the apple in two. "Ok, that's nothing new."
"Yeah, but they found him tied to a tree."
Knife paused mid-cut, you lifted your head. "What?"
"The guy was tied up, like hands bound, feet tied, gagged, all tied up like someone left him there."
A cold chill slowly crept up your spine, "Who was it?"
They all shrugged their shoulders, no one giving a confirmed response, only speculations mumbled amongst themselves. Your heart pounded, stomach in knots. It couldn't be…. Could it?
When your shift was done, you raced to the gray brick building. Six stories high and you had no idea which apartment was his. Shit!
You had half a mind to just start knocking on every door. Pacing back and forth, your name was called and you looked up to see Joel walking toward you like an answer to a prayer.
"What are you–"
"I need to talk to you," you interrupted, coming up to him abruptly, eyes fierce. He could sense you were trying to control the quiver in your voice and raised his eyebrows. "Alright. Everything okay?"
You shook your head. "Not here."
He took you up to his apartment, holding the door as you walked in. The room was small, dark, and cold, the small brain teaser sitting on the counter.
"You okay?" he asked, closing the door behind you, a look of concern on his face.
Ignoring his inquiry, you turned on your heel to face him. "Did you kill him?"
It was demanding, accusational, harsher than you had meant. He stared at you quietly and your pulse thumped in your neck.
This world was difficult to survive in, and you'd scraped your way through it on your own wits and a lot of luck. There had been friends, family, acquaintances that were less than trustworthy, and most of them were either gone or dead. And here was this man you barely knew who came out of nowhere to protect you. It threw you off balance.
"What are you talking ab-"
"No Joel," you said, raising a hand to stop him. "Don't do that. Don't play dumb with me. That guard, did you kill him? Tell me the truth."
He studied you, this small fiery force that looked scared but put up a front. How had she survived this long, he wondered.
"Alright," he began slowly, "you want the truth? The truth is after I took you home, I saw him lingering around your building. I watched him, talking to the other guards, studying the building, pointing to your window. If I hadn't done what I did, he would have raped and killed you, and then probably come after me out of spite."
Stunned by his answer, you shook your head in disbelief. "You don't know that Joel. I didn't… I didn't ask you to do that!"
The guilt of this somehow being your fault weighed on you. There'd been so many deaths, so many infected, it just seemed like everyone was ticking away until there'd be no one left. He absentmindedly placed a hand on your arm in an attempt to calm you.
"Hey, hey," he said your name, pulling your eyes to his. "This isn't your fault. This isn't on you. He made his choices. That's on him, not on you."
You interjected–but, maybe I should have–but he pressed on, sternly. "Listen to me. If I hadn't done what I'd done, you wouldn't be standing here right now. It was either you or him, and I'd be damned if it was him." His tone softened. An orange glow emanated through the window behind him, curfew coming in a couple hours. "I know people like that. They'll prey on you, and you're too sweet to see it."
Joel didn't care for much of anything in this world. But the line in his forehead told you that somehow he cared for you.
"You could have been killed, Joel," you said shakily. "They could still hang you if they found out."
His jaw flexed. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant not letting that fucker touch you."
Something inside you sparked at his words and, without thinking, a hand reached up to take hold of the collar on his flannel, pulling him down to you. He hesitated, that ever present scowl forming on his face, but you knew better and pushed yourself up on your toes. Eyes never breaking contact, your lips brushed over his, a silent invitation.
His eyebrows creased, grappling between what he wanted to do and what he should do. You were delicate and quite possibly one of the last good people in this fucked up world, and he was a bad man. His thumb drew a line across your lips, their sheen drying on his thumb.
"It's getting late," he whispered.
"Yeah? Seems like I'm in the safest place I could be right now." Your smirk told him that you had him there. Fingers drew a line up his arm to his firm bicep, waiting for any telltale sign that you shouldn't be here. "It's ok, Joel."
Your words were so quiet, he almost didn't hear it with how bad his ear had been lately. But the look he gave told you he had. His other hand drew up, framing your face in his rough palms, and he captured your mouth with his. He wanted to be delicate with you, but he was not a delicate man, and when a low guttural moan escaped you, he knew he was fucked.
His hands trailed down before settling on your ass. Lifting up, your legs wrapped around his torso, arms around his neck, and his whiskers tickled your lips.
"Fuck, girl," he grunted. "Do you know what you're doing?"
You snickered, feeling the length of him pressed against you while he carried you to his bed of worn sheets and old blankets. Leaning in, you whispered in his ear, "Gonna show you how sweet I can be."
The air went out of him in a short huff and he set you down on the bed. He stilled as he took you in. There weren't many good moments in this world anymore, few that he cared to remember or cherish. But watching you lay there, waiting for him, it was a memory he'd hold onto when things got rough, when he ever felt lonely.
His chest heaved in anticipation as you reached up and pulled off your shirt, the same lacy black bra he'd seen before.
"Oh, you know exactly what you're doing," he mumbled and, grabbing hold of your ankles, slid you down to the edge. His arms caged around your head and he leaned in, a serious expression on his face. "You sure about this?"
You nodded, the anticipation causing you to tremble slightly.
"You gonna be a good girl for me and take off those pants?" That slow Texas drawl was as sweet as honey, and you moved maybe a little too quickly to unbutton your jeans, shimmying them down.
He chuckled to himself, thrilled to see how eager you were. Truth be told, it had been hard to connect with anyone after the outbreak. It was hard to trust, hard to hold onto anyone, hard to fucking relax. But, with Joel, you felt safe.
He pulled at the ankle of your jeans, slipping them off, then hooked a thumb through the waistband of your underwear. There was a confidence in his actions as he slipped them off and pocketed them. Dropping to his knees, you lifted up on your forearms, watching him with curiosity. It was a struggle to take his time, but he trailed some delicate kisses up your thigh before his mouth consumed your cunt. Head thrown back, you echoed an animalistic moan when he gripped onto your hips to keep you close.
"So fuckin' sweet," he mumbled, the whiskers of his beard tickling you in all the best ways. His tongue lapped rhythmically, making your toes start to twitch in rhythm. You gasped his name, running your fingers through his graying hair, gripping it when he found a special sweet spot.
"Right there," you choked out, holding onto your breath while he made you see stars. He dipped a finger in while swirling your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, then added a second. His fingers slid in and out, making you start to shake.
"Come on, sweet girl," he coaxed. "I know you're close."
Thighs gripping around his head, that final release caused you to moan and shudder and shake uncontrollably, not having let go that much since before the outbreak.
It was dark and hazy in his room, the only light from a crescent moon reflecting off him when he sat up and crawled toward you. His eyes were hungry with a desire that was not yet satisfied. You bit at your bottom lip, anticipating what he would do next.
"You doing ok sweet girl?"
"Yeah."
"Good," he said as he hovered over you. "Turn over."
Your eyes grew wide, but he didn't have to tell you twice. You rolled on your stomach and felt as he trailed kisses down your spine. The metal of his leather belt clanged as he unbuckled it, then the quick whine of his zipper.
"Come 'ere," he said as he gripped onto your hips and lifted you to your knees. You knew what he wanted and you tilted your back down and ass up higher.
"Like that?" you asked, feigning innocence. Joel tried to keep his composure, but you were too fucking much for him and he knew he wouldn't last long.
"Good girl," he choked out, gripping himself before sliding into you with ease. Your soaking cunt sucked him in effortlessly, and a chorused moan resounded through the room. You may have already cum once tonight, but by the way his cock stretched you, it was inevitable you'd cum a second time.
"Joel," you whispered over and over again as he thrust into you. There was no easing in or getting used to his size, he was past controlling himself to go gently. His movements were ragged, rough, needy.
Your pussy clenched around him, so close to that second release. He gripped onto you harder and pulled you up to him.
"Touch yourself," he drawled, and you reached down to rub at your clit. His mouth went to your ear, whispering, "I want you to cum on my cock."
You moaned in response, his hands roaming to your breasts while he thrusted.
It only took a few more pumps before you started to quiver, your head thrown against his shoulder in ecstasy. When he knew you were down from your high, he pulled out, him cum warm as it shot on your back and ass.
You laid on your stomach, fully spent and satisfied, while he searched for a towel to clean you up. Eyes closing while he wiped up his mess, you wondered if he had just marked his territory. Either way, you knew you were his.
texas sun - series masterlist (joel miller x f!reader)
series summary: Twenty years later, Joel still doesn’t know how to describe what you were to him. You’d never made any promises to each other, but you loved his daughter like she was your own. Had he known what was going to happen, he wouldn't have let you go.
description: plot inspired partially by this request. pre-outbreak! joel miller x f!reader, slow burn(ish), eventual smut. will end up covering game/tv show events. reader does not have a name, and there's no use of y/n, but she does have a fully fleshed-out backstory, friends/family with names.
warnings (will update as needed): fluff, angst, romance. multiple pov's. time jumps. smut (18+ only, minors DNI), alcohol use, marijuana use, descriptions of absent & abusive parents, eventual canon-typical violence & content. More specific warnings on each chapter.
a/n: super excited about this one, i've had so many ideas for it and it has been a pleasure to write! will try to update roughly every week or so, but i have a full-time job, so it just depends on what i can reasonably accomplish. i don't rush things out before they are ready, so please be patient. :)
I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifications if you would like to be notified when I update :)
fic playlist | writing masterlist | read on a03
chapters:
"*" = contains smut
volume i
volume ii
volume iii
volume iv
volume v*
volume vi*
volume vii*
volume viii*
volume ix
volume x
volume xi
volume xii
volume xiii
volume xiv
Summary: Steve has your heart, but Loki spurs something within you
A/N: this is just a random drabble I put together, as you guys seem to like one shots more than multiple parts.
*****
The quinjet quietly hummed while on course for another mission. The straps dug into your neck as you waited for Clint to land. Steve had parachuted down early to take care of any security guards around the perimeter of the Hydra base, giving you a little salute before jumping out. He was such a dork you thought, rolling your eyes and smiling, but you loved his quirks. His mannerisms, his charm, his chivalry.
Ever since you had joined the Avengers, he had been your light, making you feel welcomed in a group that was already tightly knit and accepting you for who you were. You and Steve had bonded over coffee dates and a love for old movies, and after a double-feature at a vintage marquee theater, he took you by surprise when he spun you on the sidewalk of Main Street, dipped you, and then planted one of the softest kisses of your life.
It was that same acceptance that you bestowed upon Loki when he was all but dragged by Thor to the Avengers compound. Most of the team had been standoffish, wanting to make it known that he was not welcome. But after struggling yourself to find a place within the team, you understood what it meant to have someone on your side and support you. After numerous weeks of his haughty, superior attitude, you found a crack in his metaphorical armor when you baked muffins that reminded him of ones his mother loved, and the two of you soon spent evenings chatting about your childhood in completely different worlds.
Loki stood near the back of the jet with you, waiting to land and the doors to open.
"You ready, darling?" he asked with that endearing nickname that you knew made Steve silently cringe.
"I'm always ready," you replied while securing your weapons, a samurai sword on your back and daggers on your belt and ankle.
"Alright," Clint started after landing the jet, strapping his gear while Natasha holstered her guns. "You and Loki take the East wing, Nat and I will take West and we'll meet in the middle with Steve."
Loki naturally took the lead, taking down guards as necessary. The two of you had found a groove together on missions, similar to Clint and Natasha. Some agents had occasionally wondered aloud why you didn't pair with Steve more on missions, as the two of you seemed awfully close, but you would shrug your shoulders, brushing it off. "Whatever works, works."
Steve didn't seem to mind, knowing you could take care of yourself and were in capable hands if need be. At the end of the night, his arm was around you as you smiled into those ocean blue eyes.
Rounding the corner of a building, you abruptly stopped as you and Loki came across a platoon of soldiers. You gasped inward, not expecting to run up on so many at once, and Loki wrapped his hand around your mouth to silence you and pulled you into a deep alcove before being spotted.
His chest pressed against yours, heaving in rhythm with you, as a green glow emitted from behind him, utilizing his seidre to hide you both from view. The alcove was dark, and as your eyes adjusted, you realized your hands had been pressed up against his firm chest. You slid them down to his waist to give you both a little more room, and saw his head turn slightly by the movement. His hands slowly rubbed your back absentmindedly, and you bit the inside of your cheek, not wanting to make it known that it felt comforting. This was by far the closest you had been to him, and it felt rather intimate.
"Where are you guys at?" Clint said into your earpiece. You startled at the interruption, like you had been caught red-handed. But you hadn't done anything wrong, you told yourself.
"We got stuck between too many of them and need some back up," you whispered.
"On it," you heard Natasha say.
"You ready?" he whispered, and you nodded, unsheathing your sword. He conjured his daggers, turned, and the two of you ran out to start the attack.
*****
The five of you loaded back onto the jet after another successful mission with barely any injuries. Natasha had a bruised shoulder from a minor blow, and Loki had his thigh grazed with a bullet. He sat on the benches near the back of the jet, arms crossed and eyes closed, when you came over with bandage tape.
"You just planning to bleed out before we get back to the compound?" you asked, kneeling down in front of him. He kept his eyes shut.
"My body will heal itself in due time without the need of your simple Midgardian practices."
You rolled your eyes at his pompous, stubborn attitude, and began to wrap his leg with the tape.
"What do you think you are doing?" he asked, opening an eye.
"I'd rather not have to clean up your blood all over the jet, Loki. Now stay still." You wound the tape around his leg again and again in silence, while the rest of the team stayed up front. "I know that wound is because of me."
He opened his eyes then and looked down at you as you secured the bandage in place. "And why would you assume that?"
"I was taking on two soldiers and could sense another behind me. And then you were there, and the next thing I knew, you were bleeding."
He stayed silent as the two of you looked at each other.
"Hey y/n," Steve called from the front. "You want to practice your flight skills up here?"
"Sure thing," you yelled back. You stood and turned to him. "Thank you," you said, then made your way to the front of the jet, feeling his eyes on your back the entire time.
*****
3:15 am. You groaned, pushing the alarm clock away from your face. Steve breathed heavily on the far end of the bed, and you were so far away from sleep. You blamed it on the leftover adrenaline from your mission and rolled out of bed, hoping some water and a walk around the compound would help. Strolling up and down the halls, you enjoyed the peacefulness. You reached the dark kitchen and poured a glass of water in the refrigerator light. "Can't sleep?"
You yelped, splashing the pitcher of water onto the counter and floor. "Jeez, Loki, you really know how to creep up on someone."
He laughed, grabbing a towel to help you wipe up the mess. "Apologies. I came out to do some reading."
"At 3 in the morning?"
He smiled, putting his hand out to help you to your feet. "Gods require less sleep than mortals my dear."
His presence in your personal space, at this late hour, with no one else around, was not lost on you, and the feeling in the pit of your stomach as he looked down upon you was foreign. "Now tell me, my little mortal, what is it that is keeping you from sleep?"
"Adrenaline."
He hummed in response, studying you.
"Would you like to release some of that energy?"
You laughed aloud in response. But he wasn't smiling, rubbing a small circle with his thumb on your hand.
You didn't like the way he was looking at you. But more than that, you didn't like how that look was making you feel, that you felt yourself becoming wet in response.
"Goodnight Loki," you whispered. And as you passed him, the tips of his fingers brushed your bare thigh, sending shivers up your spine.
*****
You made it a point to avoid Loki for as long as possible, which was a difficult feat when you lived and worked in the same area. Whatever was going on, you needed the space to clear your head.
During briefings, you sat on the opposite side of the room, making it a point to leave immediately after and avoid eye contact. Physical training and workouts were paired with Steve or Natasha. Paperwork and lab work were done either in a group setting or alone in your room. Needless to say, you had successfully avoided contact with him for almost a week.
When the team was not on a mission, Friday nights became a lively gathering hosted by Tony, filled with mood lighting, hit music, and an open bar. You hung out in the lounge area with Steve, Bruce and Thor, chatting about last week's mission and new developments.
"I heard you took down quite a few with that stick of yours," Thor stated and you smiled.
"It may not be a hammer," you said, "but I tend to do pretty well with it."
"That you do," Steve said, wrapping his arm around you and kissing the side of your head. You had decided that you were happy with Steve, comfortable with him, he was your constant. The last thing anyone needed was Loki slipping in to make a mess of things. But you hadn't seen him all night. Maybe he took the hint and was avoiding you too.
When the men had changed subjects to things that interested you less, you leaned in to whisper in Steve's ear, "I'm going in search of Tony's secret stash."
He smiled and squeezed your butt. "Happy hunting."
While the open bar was nice, you knew that Tony had some reserved bottles in his own apartment and slipped in uninvited. He wouldn't mind if a bottle or two went missing, you told yourself as you quietly rummaged around.
"Breaking and entering, are we?"
You shrieked, neatly dropping a $700 bottle of Cabernet, but catching it before it could shatter.
"Seriously, Loki, we need to put a bell on you," you said, as your pulse went frantic. You didn't like the way your heart began to pound when the two of you locked eyes and you intentionally turned away. "You know, I think Tony would freak if he knew you were in his apartment."
"What are you doing?"
Was that a literal question or rhetorical one? You showed him the bottle. "Borrowing a bottle for the night."
He strode over to you, taking the bottle out of your hands and setting it down on the bar. "I think you know that is not what I mean."
You took a step back and felt the marble counter behind you. Pressing your lips together, you racked your brain for what you could possibly say to him. But every thought you had could not be spoken aloud. It wasn't real if you didn't say it.
"I'm not doing anything, Loki," you mumbled, staring at the pattern on the rug beneath you. He took another step forward and you could feel the warmth of his body. Gently lifting your chin with his thumb and forefinger, he looked down at you with a stern expression.
"Then tell me I am the only one who feels this," he said. You looked up at him, mouth slightly open, the words on the tip of your tongue. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Tell me you don't think of me when you are with him."
"I…." His words were faint, but you heard them. You tried to ignore that thought that dug a hole in the corner of your mind, tried to shake him from your thoughts, that aching feeling in your core. He leaned in closely and you could feel his warm breath on your lips, desiring to feel him consume you. His fingertips glided up your back, making you shiver, and you held back the moan that ached to come out
"Please Loki…" you whispered. You would not admit to yourself, or him, that you wanted him. Not like this. "Let me go."
He flinched back slightly, processing what you said. And then all at once, he stood. You grabbed the bottle and left the room.
Summary: Writing everything down should help you process your feelings. Somehow it always turns into letters to him.
Warnings: Grief, angst, smut.
March 29
When I first met you, I thought your heart was the coldest thing in the world. But nothing could top the biting freezing water when I submerged in that lake. The impact on my bones hitting the cement-like water rang through my body. Every inch of my body felt like fire ants biting at me and I twisted and turned to find a way back up to the surface. But that man was everywhere and no matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't let up. His large hands encircled my neck, closing my windpipe. My mind wandered, was this a dream? This couldn't possibly be how I was meant to die. It had to be a dream. My movements weren't fast enough. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel.
And then, he just let go. The water turned dark. Red. My focus blurred, unreliable, but there you were, an arm wrapped around and pulling me to the surface. My body must have acclimated to the cold, because it didn't feel any colder at the water's edge, even though we could see our breath. I was choking, gagging on hands and knees, trying painfully to fill my lungs. You snapped your neck to the side and were instantly dry.
"Come here," you motioned with a sense of urgency. "I need to get you back."
There was this surreal calm as you held me in your arms and transported us back to the hotel room. I remember how dark and quiet it was, the only sounds your steady breath, my impending chattering teeth. It was the safest I'd ever felt.
"Take off your dress," he whispered back in the room. Eyebrows drawn in, your voice was lost, body starting to violently shiver for warmth. He swiftly unbuttoned his cufflinks, removed his shoes while you stood there, a dripping stone of a mess. "I shouldn't know human anatomy better than you, darling. You're in danger of hypothermia. You need my body heat."
Brain feeling scrambled, you nodded slowly but still were frozen in a trance. It hurt to move a muscle. He pulled his shirt off quickly and noticed your lack of movement. His eyes were kind, but filled with worry. The zipper of your dress gave a high pitch whine as he released it behind you and the heaviness of the soaked fabric made the dress drop like a rock to the floor.
He whispered, "I'm sorry," so gently, you almost didn't hear him. And then your breasts were released from the cage of your bra. His eyes met yours as he picked you up and carried you to the bed.
"I've got you girl," he whispered and laid you in the bed, blankets pulled above your heads. His arms wrapped around you, legs tangled together. When had he removed his pants? Chest pressed to chest, his heart beat hard against yours. The irony of a frost giant attempting to warm you would have made you laugh if you could. His palm ran circles on your back, your body convulsing against him.
He was very aware of the intimacy of the moment. The curvature of your breasts pressed up to him, the softness of your skin as he ran his hand gently along the peaks and valleys of your body. If this weren't a life or death situation, he would have allowed those lingering thoughts of taking advantage of the situation. He was wildly attracted to you, as much as he tried to deny it to himself. But, you were also pure, and good, and surprisingly more innocent than he had ever imagined.
"What were you thinking?" Your eyes shot to his, pulling you from your own thoughts. You attempted to open your mouth, but your words were slurred and staggered, an awful attempt at defending yourself. His palm left your back to brush the damp hair from your forehead and cheek. "Fighting is in your blood as much as it is in mine, I know this. But I don't understand how you mortals can sacrifice yourselves so easily."
His thumb ran along your cheekbone. "I would have never forgiven myself if–" he trailed off and you closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling him tighter to you.
April 6
I miss your touch. I miss your kisses. I miss sparring with you and how much of a pompous ass you were when you'd beat me. I miss the look you'd give me when I'd beat you. I miss the little tricks you'd play on me with your seidr. I miss feeling you in my arms, around my legs, within my everything.
Your eyes opened to the slow methodical circles of his hand on your back. It was still dark, the only light coming from the city glow, which reflected off Loki's face. The shivering had stopped and your skin had warmed. He no longer felt like a burning fire to your skin, and instead you became very aware of every inch of him still wrapped around you. The thump of your pulse picked up speed and, noticing the small change in the rhythm of your breath, his eyes cracked open.
"You're awake," he whispered, his palm pausing mid-movement to rest between your shoulder blades.
"So are you," you replied. He could feel your heart beating fast pressed up against him. It wasn't every day that you awoke in a large plush bed with a semi nude god wrapped around your naked frame.
"Yes, well, I couldn't quite sleep knowing the condition you were in." His palm retracted from your back and a little part of you internally frowned. "You had me quite worried for a moment."
You scoffed at him in a mocking tone. "You should know I'm tougher than that, Loki. A little ice water isn't going to take me down."
He hummed in response and you could feel him retreating. No, don't go. Your palm slowly slid into his much larger hand. "I… I'm sorry. You–I mean, you…," a long sigh escaped. "Thank you, Loki."
Propped up on a pillow on his side, he considered you lying next to him. Had his eyes dropped to your lips, or were you imagining it? He grabbed the sheets draped on your bicep and pulled them over your shoulder. "I should let you rest," he said with a sigh.
He pulled himself up toward the edge of the bed, sheets and blankets tumbling off his bare chest down to his lap. His back to you, he shut his eyes, jaw flexing. He would not take advantage of you.
Holding the sheet tightly to your chest, you grabbed his hand at the edge of the mattress. He turned toward the hand, then your face as you pulled yourself to him, wordlessly pressing your lips to his. He may have no longer felt like fire, but his lips were a burning heat that you wanted to consume. He froze, torn between wanting to press you into the mattress, and needing to hold himself back. When you pulled inches away, searching his eyes for an answer to an unasked question, you were met with conflict.
Taking a breath, he reached to tuck a stand of hair behind your ear, your name a sigh on his lips.
"Please don't make me do this," he whispered into your mouth.
It wasn’t the words you were expecting and you rested your forehead to his, answering him quietly, “What am I making you do Loki?”
Lips hovering, like a game of how close one could get without touching, his breath felt warm on your lips, his scent intoxicating. “You don’t know what you’re doing, girl. I won’t stay on Midgard forever. I'm not– it wouldn't be what you want."
You smiled. He was trying to protect you, again. "And what do I want?"
"Someone who matters."
"Yeah," you agreed. You leaned away from him and dropped your arm that held the sheet to your chest, pooling at your waist. He was very good at keeping his composure, but you could still see his mouth gently opening, his eyes trailing down to take in your soft curves, nipples peaked. "I'm not asking for forever, Loki. I'm not some silly girl with my head in the clouds. But I know what I want."
"Norns," he whispered under his breath, leaning closer toward you. You felt as his fingertips dragged up your ankle to your calf, the back of your knee, the meat of your thigh. You leaned back as he crawled up to you, breath shaky as he hovered above.
"Are you sure?" he asked, giving you a way out.
"I'm yours," you whispered, and it was like a switch flipped. One hand gripped onto your hip, the other tangling in your hair as his lips trailed down your neck.
"Say it again," he growled, large hands exploring new areas. He consumed you, big and broad and warm and everywhere.
You moaned from the attention. "I'm yours Loki."
He pressed his lips to your again, using his tongue to slowly part your lips, the whisper of a moan erupting from within him. Your heart beat faster and faster in rhythm with his.
Maybe I've always been yours. Even before you arrived on Midgard, before the chaos, the attack, before everything, maybe the stars knew that I was yours and no one else's. You looked at me like I was a treasure you'd been searching for your entire lifetime that night. You kissed me like it would be your first and last. Fingers mapped out each other's bodies, new discoveries and untouched wonders.
You'd taken your time, neither of us knowing our future together would be more short lived than we'd anticipated.
You paused to study my face, for any uncertainty, any regret. As if there was any doubt. I flipped you onto your back with a sultry smile, sitting atop you like conquering a mountain, and slowly sank down to take all of you in, shuddering and whimpering.
It was exactly what I had imagined, a painful pleasure that divided me in two. Your fingers interlaced with mine and you pulled yourself up to hold me in your arms as I rocked back and forth, acclimating myself to the new feeling. My name came out of your lips like whispered ecstasy. "You are a goddess."
Bringing your hands to my head, tongues intertwined, toes flexing to the heightened feelings.
"You okay?"
I nodded emphatically. Your hand drew down, first to my alert nipples craving any sort of attention. Flicking, fumbling, pinching, you pulled noises out of me that I'd never made before.
Your exploratory fingers went further south, causing a selfish whine. I wanted all of you everywhere. We looked up at one another at the same time, a mischievous grin forming on your face, a concerned pout on mine.
"Don't worry pet, only good things await you." Your long middle finger ran between my folds, flicking the bundle of nerves. I was a puddle in your hands. If you had asked me to leave Earth with you and never return, I would have gladly packed my bags.
My hips went wild with need, those long digits playing the harp on my clit.
"You ready to come?"
"Not yet," I replied, wanting this moment to last as long as possible, and somehow you prolonged it, a kiss here, a caress there, making my toes curl until I saw stars.
When I finally came, it may have been from the utter exhaustion that my body couldn't take it anymore. Out came a scream and then my teeth sank into your shoulder. I'd find out later that I'd bit you a little too hard, leaving a bruise that you didn't care to heal.
We laid in bed that day, you continuing to rub my back that would put me to sleep again. I was at peace, content and happy. Oh how I miss you.
Summary: Loki almost killed you during the Battle of New York. You struggle when he returns.
Warnings: If the title didn't give it away, choking. Also, Loki being an ass. Smut. 18+
AN: I'm a slut for comments and reposts!
*****
Why wouldn't he just leave? That irritating smirk, as if something was so damn amusing, lingered on Loki's face, his eyes on you like prey. He was that constant itch that you couldn’t scratch away, the ever looming ache in your side that you couldn’t ignore. While the rest of the team discussed their next mission, you sat at the far end of the table incessantly tapping your foot while he reclined in a chair. It was bad enough that after all the destruction he had caused in New York that he decided to show his face again on Earth, in tow with his brother. But the fact that you had to see him every day, breathe the same air, act like everything was water under the bridge, felt almost impossible. Thor had framed Loki's return in the brightest of lights–that he'd changed, that he had been brainwashed and tortured and wasn't the same person anymore. The rest of the team was willing to be cautiously accepting for Thor's sake, and perhaps were starting to buy into the idea that Loki had turned over a new leaf. But the rest of the team hadn't looked into Loki's eyes, seen that possessive evil, when he had lifted you by your throat while smiling, slowly closing your windpipe as you struggled to break free.
That fateful day had been permanently etched in your memory. New York was under attack and you had been focused on surveillance for the team in Stark Tower when he had shown up, strolling proudly with his scepter in hand. Standing abruptly, your heart pounded as you sized up this towering giant and watched his movements; your combat and defense skills were good, but they'd never been put to the test by a god. "Are you going to attempt to appeal to my humanity?"
His demeanor was so high and mighty, like this was all so far beneath him. "And why would I do that? Clearly you have none."
Your legs mimicked his movements, circling each other around the open loft. He paused and cocked his head, an amused smirk pulling on his face. "Don't tell me you intend to fight me, girl. Adorable, but I can assure you I am no match for you."
"We'll see about that."
"And why would I waste my time fighting you? You could be quite useful to me." He aimed the tip of the scepter at your chest, but you were quicker than he’d anticipated and swiped the staff to the side before kicking him in the chest. It didn't do much, he was as solid as a tree, but it was enough to catch him slightly off guard to kick the scepter out of his hand and you both watched as it slid across the room. Adrenaline pumping, you attempted to lurch at the fallen weapon, but he was faster and grabbed your wrist, spinning you around.
"And where do you think you're going?" His tone was sinister and his large hand wrapped around your neck, lifting you off the ground as your legs flailed. Long fingers slowly squeezed on your windpipe and you struggled to pry them off. Tears blurred your vision and started to stream down your face. "Such pathetic floundering bottom feeders you Midgardians are. I should put you out of your misery."
He smiled while watching you struggle in his one hand, prolonging your agony. Squeezing tighter, the world moving out of focus into black. And then a window shattered and the Hulk emerged, ultimately saving you and smashing Loki in the process.
For three weeks, every time you looked in the mirror you were reminded of what he did to you. Your neck turned black and blue, then purple, then green, then brown and yellow. But even as the bruises faded, it was still raw in your mind.
So when Thor had pulled you aside to convince you why his brother deserved another chance, you screamed internally while plastering a smile on your face. He had to have known the trauma Loki had put you through. "Are you okay with this, y/n?"
The pleading in his eyes confirmed that if you said no, it would break his heart. Thor was like a brother to you, and while his brother was the spawn of Satan, you pushed your feelings aside and lied straight to his face. "If you say he's changed, then I believe you."
*****
Loki knew who you were, what he had done to you. The recognition on his face when you first walked into the room and stopped short was evident. His eyes lingered as you leaned against the far wall, keeping a significant distance between you and him. Absentmindedly, you nibbled at your lip and fiddled with the hem of your shirt.
"Lady y/n!" The bellowing voice made you freeze as you watched the large blonde man stride over, dragging his darker haired brother behind him with a perturbed look. He wasn't actually bringing his brother over to you, was he? "I'm glad you are here," he smiled, like this was a family reunion, "Y/n, my brother Loki."
The expression on your face was blank as you tried to hold it together. "We've met," you deadpanned at the same time Loki said, "I don't believe she cares to meet me, Thor."
The oblivious blonde shook his head at your responses. "Nonsense! The last time you met was a misunderstanding. This is a chance to start anew."
Loki watched the vein in your neck as you clenched your jaw together, your nostrils flaring slightly at the thought of your near death being a "misunderstanding." The way your hand shook by your side. He knew you were not ready for this.
"Please excuse my brother. Y/n, it is a pleasure to meet you formally.”
You studied the carpet as he spoke, noticing a burn mark on the rug you'd never seen before. He turned to leave, pulling Thor with him.
“Is that it?” The words were so quiet you barely heard them yourself. But Loki paused and turned toward you. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to be near him, didn’t want to be on the same planet as him, but you also didn’t want to be the weak girl that he clearly thought you were, so you pulled your eyes from the floor to look directly at him, your eyes blazing with anger. “Is that all you have to say to me?”
“I… No. I am sorry for any pain that I caused you. It is inexcusable, I know that.”
You willed yourself not to bring your hand to your neck, remembering how the person in front of you toyed with attempting to snuff out your existence without blinking an eye.
It's an act. It's just for show.
Glaring at him, you didn’t want to believe his words. If he was expecting forgiveness, he wouldn’t find it from you. "You're right," you replied. "It is inexcusable."
Pushing past him, you hated the feeling that perhaps he had been sincere.
*****
The constant stress of being cooped up in a tower with him was weighing on you. The need to leave rooms, change directions, hide out in your apartment; was it childish? You didn't know. But every time you saw him, your pulse started racing, your throat turned to sandpaper, and your stomach tensed.
When Natasha announced it was time they all went out for a night, you were all in, needing to literally let your hair down and dance your cares away.
Stark paid an exorbitant amount of money to have access to an exclusive club that he and his friends could access at any time. You showed up in a little black number with a mission to let your cares go.
Dancing for hours had left you parched and you made your way to the bar. He was already there, arms crossed as he watched others with a judgmental look of disapproval. You ordered a rum and coke, telling the bartender to put it on his tab, causing Loki to roll his eyes but nod all the same. He turned his attention to you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. "Having fun?"
"I was," you snided, sipping your drink. "I thought you enjoyed this type of thing. Thor said you had your fair share of banquets and masquerades."
"Yes, well, my tastes are…a little more…refined."
You rolled your eyes at his snobbery. He was truly the worst. "When are you planning to leave Earth? I'm sure there are other planets just waiting to be conquered."
Hesitating at your remark, he studied you, no longer shaking from nerves and a more bold tongue, chalking it up to liquid courage. Leaning in closer to you, he could smell a mix of your vanilla body wash, sweat, and alcohol. "Why would I leave when my presence is clearly torturing you?"
The sinister smile on his face made the lump in your throat return and you quickly sipped at your drink again, the alcohol pushing your nerves back down. "Look at you. I don't even have to lay a finger on you and you whither in front of me."
Your cheeks went hot under his intense gaze, feeling small as he hovered over you. Swallowing, you looked up at him, butterflies erupting inside you.
"Fuck you, Loki," you breathed. Storming off, you could only imagine that arrogant smirk on his face as he watched you walk away. Heart pounding, blood boiling, you grabbed the first man you saw on the dance floor, gyrating with him under the strobe lights, trying to remove the image of him hovering over you from memory. When you looked up toward the bar, Loki was still watching you, a smile pulling on his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing.
*****
Combat training with various team members was grueling but necessary work, dripping sweat and lungs burning. You and Natasha went at each other, you landing a blow to her ribs, her landing a kick which resulted in an armbar. A few rounds and the two of you had called it a night, her leaving to shower while you stretched weary muscles.
"Your combat skills have seemed to improve since the last time I saw them." You heard him before you saw him. Narrowing your eyes and putting on a braver face than you felt inside, you groaned, crossing your arms.
"You're like an annoying gnat. What do you want?"
"I'm curious, when the team goes on missions, who is the one that babysits you? Do they take turns or is it the same person?"
He was trying to goad you, trying to get a rise out of you, you knew that. Well two could play this game. "How exactly did you convince Thor that you changed? All that talk of torture, did you make that up? Is there even a, what was his name? Thanos?"
His face dropped for the quickest of moments and a part of you regretted your words. But when he recovered, the look on his face made you take a step back.
"Tell me, how many nights have you been kept up at night thinking about my hand around your throat."
Your hand reacted before your brain could and the crack of your palm against his cheek was heard before it was felt. He smiled when he turned his face back to you, taking another step in your direction. Fist clenched, your arm swung up toward him, but he grabbed it and held it in place. Another step, your knee came up to his stomach, and he grabbed that too. You felt the wall behind you, a shallow breath released as you tried to hold yourself together, his chest centimeters from yours. When you looked up at those blue-green eyes though, it wasn't the same look as last time. There was no darkness, no evil, no possession. His smile was covering something else. Slowly, your eyes locked on his, you guided his other hand to your neck. His breath hitched as he watched you wrap his slender digits around your throat.
"Wha–" but you silenced his question with your lips. What started as a desperate need to shut him up turned to lips hovering near each other, tongues dancing together, breaths being shared. He pulled away to look at you, a question playing on his face, his silver tongue clearly tied. Your eyes dropped down, embarrassment starting to flood your mind, and his hand flicked your face back up to his and kissed you again, hand gliding from your neck to the back of your head, gripping onto your hair. Your fist was dropped as he glided his palm down your side, wrapping around your ass, bringing you wanting core to him. A whimper left your lips and he pressed into you with need.
Brains turned off, hands scrambled to pull at clothes and feel every inch of one another. His fingers slipped inside your pants, running his long digits along your silky crevices and you shook as the tip of his finger circled your clit, smiling into your mouth. "Seems like you've thought of this multiple times, pet."
"Shut up,” you demanded, greedily scrambling to free his throbbing erection from its enclosure, pulling at zippers and buttons, a relieved sigh escaping from him when it was freed.
He was quick with his movements and flipped you around, hands pressed against the wall, pants yanked down with a swift jerk, fingertips drawing lines up your thigh, up your hip, up your spine, causing shivers. His hand came to rest on your neck, tilting your head back to him. His warm throbbing cock slid between your ass cheeks and through your thighs, playing with your anxious opening.
"Beg me," he whispered into your ear. A strained cry left your throat as he rubbed his hot erection up your slit.
“Please,” you breathed, then moaned loudly as he stretched your tight opening, flexing his fingers under your jaw.
“Is this what you want, pet?” You wondered that yourself as he smoothly pulled and pressed into you, but as he hit your cervix while locked against him, you knew this was exactly what you wanted all along. A secret desire you wouldn’t even admit to yourself. The noises you made were sloppy, no longer able to make sense. He pulled your head toward him again, gripping down a little harder while pounding into you. “I asked you a question girl.”
“Y…ye…yes…” you wailed. You were close, but if it were to coming or passing out, you didn’t know. His cock hit in places you didn’t know were inside of you, and as he reached down to circle your clit, your body shook violently. The world went black for a moment and you collapsed into him, but vaguely you could hear his words. “I got you. I got you. Good girl.”
Pressing yourself into him on the floor, your lungs burned. He rubbed your neck, your arms, your back, while you came back to full recognition. Looking up at him, he pressed his lips together while you bit at yours. “Do not tell anyone about this.”
He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. “I doubt they would believe me even if I did, pet,” and kissed your hand. "Do you still want me to leave Midgard?"
Lowering your face into his shoulder, you hid your reddened cheeks. Your lips pressed together, unable to answer, but knowing you didn't want him to go.
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