Loki X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

~ Part 12. ~

The man grabbed the still sticking cock in his hand, which really did seem bigger.

„Professor, please... I'm begging you...” I looked pleadingly at him.

„Oh, my dear... You will beg for it, yes, but for me to stop fucking you! Now... tell me what do you want from me so much?”

„I want your cock, Professor, to go deep inside me...”

After these words, he pulled me a little closer and finally I felt the tip of his cock slightly parting the lips of my still wet pussy, so that he could enter me with all his strength extremely deep.

At first it was just light thrusts that made me feel wonderful.

Finally, the man decided to undo the top two buttons on his shirt, then took my shirt off over my head and threw it on a chair. His eyes showed my medium-sized breasts wearing a black lace bra from a set of thongs. He slid down my straps incredibly quickly, found the clasp on the front, and immediately got rid of the unnecessary part of my clothes. Finally, I saw out of the corner a specimen as he tossed my bra next to my thong.

„Oh, my dear... You are so incredibly beautiful... Your little tight pussy is so tight around my cock... I will give you such an orgasm that you will cry for more.”

His alone made me close to orgasm.

Suddenly I felt the man's cock literally pushing me from the inside... His thrusts became more and more intense.

The Professor's big hands rested on my breasts. I felt his thumbs and forefingers tighten around my swollen and perky nipples. I moaned because his hands were still cool until he joined his hot tongue to start arousing and teasing them more.

I began to pant uncontrollably from the incoming feeling of heat, lying on the desk of a man who was fucking me hard and brutally every moment.

He suddenly grabbed my wrists so hard that I yelped.

„Are you sure you want more?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

„Yeah...” I moaned, so much so that I surprised myself.

He shook his head and looked at me in disbelief.

„You are... Oh, yes... My, my naughty sweet girl... I thought about fucking you as soon as I saw you in your class for the first time... When I read your name on the list...” I could see the lust in his green eyes.

„P-Professor... P-please...” My moans were starting to turn him on more and more.

„My private erotic pet... So horny and eager to fuck...” Saying this he laughed.

He suddenly came out of me.

„Turn around... and open your legs more.”

As I stepped off the desk, he suddenly lifted my skirt slightly without warning and slapped my ass until I moaned.

He leaned me over the desk and entered my wet tight pussy extremely hard and brutally from behind. I had to prop myself up on the desk when he started pulling my hair.

„My girl... I won't let you be with anyone!” Sounded more dangerous than ever.

I didn't care until he suddenly let go of my hair, pulled me by the shoulders, leaned down to my ear and I felt his hot breath:

„You're only mine, do you understand?! Only my! You are my property! Only I can fuck you so brutally!”

He pushed me back onto the desk giving me a second smack, but this time extremely solid, until he imprinted his hand on my tiny buttocks.

„Ahh... Professor...” I groaned as it hurt a bit this time.

„Whose are you, pet?!” He asked in a voice that brooked no argument.

„P-Professor... I'm only yours, S-Sir!” I moaned as I felt his cock pushing me harder and harder. „Harder... P-please! Please don't stop fucking me!”

I felt well.

I felt him rub his thumb briefly over my already swollen clit.

„Yes... Yes... You're only mine! Only I have the right to fuck you like that! No one is allowed to have you! I'm gonna flood you, do you understand?!”

I could hear jealousy in his words.

I nodded my head.

„Do you understand what I said?!” A vein popped up on his forehead.

I couldn't think of anything while he was enjoying me.

„God... Y-Yes...”

„I want to hear you scream my name when you're close to your impending orgasm, do you understand me pet?!” Sounded angry.

„Y-Yes... I-understand...” I nodded politely.

For about 5 minutes I felt a wave of orgasm approaching, until I finally called my professor by name:

„L-Loki...” I started hesitantly.

„I can't hear you, my pet.” He replied hoarsely.

„Loki!” I say louder.

„Louder!” He grabbed my hair tightly. „I won't let you go until I completely flood you.”

„LOKI!!” I finally screamed as loud as I could.

I felt him push me hard one last time and he came inside me, and all his hot cum gushed out, flooding me from the inside.

Still holding my hair he croaked:

„My... ahh... Good... Girl...”

His grip slowly loosens, and the man is finally out of me completely. I turned my face to him.

He looked at me with a smile which made me blush automatically. I quickly grabbed my underwear and started getting dressed. The professor handed me a blouse.

Sam slipped on his sideskirts and pulled on his pants:

„You just earned an A from me.”

Then he started tying his tie.

I smiled hearing those words.

Finally the man tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and put his hands on my arms.

~ Part 13. ~

I put my index finger to my lips, feeling the man's gaze on me, and finally asked timidly:

„Is your proposal, Professor, that I stay on Fridays still valid?”

He took my finger, then spoke in his velvety voice:

„Of course it is, my dear. In addition, if you don't have plans for the weekends, I would like you to spend this time with me as well. If that's not a problem for you?”

I nodded my head and wordlessly grabbed him by the neck, then pulled him down slightly and started kissing him wildly. I dreamed that this moment would last forever.

After a moment, however, I moved slightly away from the Professor and reached out my small hands to place them on his shoulders.

He placed his hands on my cheeks and looked me in the eyes.

„My dear Y/N...”

Tears of emotion ran down my cheeks as he diminutive of my name, the way I like it best.

Finally, the Professor continued what he had started:

„Please do me the honor and please become my private pet. I don't want and I won't let anyone take you away from me...”

He kissed me quickly on the lips before I could react, then added:

„That's why I also ask you to be my... beloved!”

"I opened my eyes and mouth in amazement. Did I hear right? The same man I fell in love with is now telling me that he wants me to be his lover?! I couldn't believe it... I was afraid my heart was going to burst."

„P-Professor... I... I don't know what to tell you...” I stuttered.

„Tell me the truth. I can take and get over literally anything... Just please Y/N tell me...”

I saw terror and fear in his eyes.

I sighed very heavily. I have to tell him! I have to tell him that I've been in love with him since the first day he showed up in my class... Let him finally know that I love him too.

~ Part 14. ~

Finally, I took a breath, plucked up my courage, and began:

„I... I have to... I have to tell you this...” I wanted to sound believable.

„Am I listening to you, my dear?” He asked very calmly.

„From that first day, when you, Professor, came to your first Latin lesson, I just can't stop thinking about you. I have a hard time keeping up with your lessons because your voice excites me so damn much, Professor. When I go to sleep I dream about you so intensely that in the morning I wake up all wet. I don't know what kind of cologne you're using either, but it's making me lose my mind. Every time we pass each other in the hallway, I want to pounce on you and shower you with millions of kisses, but I can't! I don't want you to lose your job because of me... God, what the fuck am I doing?! You'll think, Professor, that I'm probably a stupid, desperate teenager...”

When I finished, the professor looked at me with wide eyes. Suddenly and violently I pulled away from him, desperately clutching at the front of his shirt, then had an uncontrollable fit of crying. I don't care if his clothes get wet from my tears.

Crying, I felt him start hugging me and rubbing my back comfortingly.

„You're not stupid, my dear... Never think of yourself that way. Also, don't say that...” his words sounded like a soothing balm.

I started to sob.

"I have to finally say it..." I thought.

I looked up at him with my puffy, tear-stained eyes.

„I fucking love you Loki Laufeyson!” I said in a broken voice.

He cupped my face, letting my tears fall.

He smiled so blissfully I could melt. Finally he said:

„These are the most beautiful words I've heard from you today!”

He took the tear-soaked strands of my hair from my face:

„I will make sure our relationship remains a secret.”

„You give me your word?” I asked still a little apprehensively.

„Yes, and I promise you that when you finish school, I will resign immediately and stay with you forever!”

I smiled because one of my dreams came true. After that, my Professor took my face and started kissing me more and more passionately...

Finally, with a smile on our faces, we left the room together with my professor, and with her the school building, because it really got very late.

I hastily left the room with the professor and the school building, because it was very late. The man suggested that I drop by his house and stay for the weekend. It's just that this weekend dragged on to such an extent that...

I moved in with him.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

In fact, I always wanted someone to make me happy, but I never thought it would be my Latin teacher.

I didn't know that I would ever become the... Teacher's Private Erotic Pet.

Loki X GN!Reader

Somewhat angsty. Angst? Yeah. Idk it's 6 Am.

(just a small practice, I'm rusty as hell)

Hands running up arms and silence in between two souls. Just doubt, freezing at the mere thought that maybe, this is something he deserve, something he should allow himself to experience. But as much as the need for that touch exists, so does the heavy burning feeling of past mistakes. It's so much to bare, it hurts, it makes breathing harder, he can't even bring himself to look at the one he loves.

Loves? What for? Everything ends one way or another, if not by pushing away then the pass of time will do. Can there be any guarantee something will be stable and just stay as long as he can breathe?.

The hands, those soft loving hands now cupping his cheeks. Now he knows for sure, he doesn't deserve it.

“Loki, look at me.”

No, he hasn't earned it. How could such a warm, dearing creature love this, as if his crimes, as if his nature was something worth of such.

“Loki, please.”

But silence, only that same still silence as those sweet hands go around him. Warmth, comfort. Finally, after the begging, Loki's hands reached to the one he loved.

He may himself, but in no way would he let that self loathing harm his beloved. He'd let himself indulge in affection, he'd allow himself to hide the distate he has for himself, only for his favorite midgardian.

For now, for as long as they can breathe.

Hi there! May I please request a Loki x reader oneshot where the reader is on her period and she’s upset and stressed so she accidentally lashes out at Loki then feels really bad but he knew the whole time she’s just upset so he calms her down and takes care of her? (sorry if that random and weird lol). thank you 🫶🏻

Not at all and sorry for the delay

Loki x fem reader

I’m sorry

Everyone was so damn loud, ever since the morning, closing and opening of doors, people talking outside your bedroom, things moving and the curtains couldn’t close tight enough so you could sleep properly.

Then they had the bright idea to go on a sudden trip to France and you couldn’t go because your dumb cramps were too bad you couldn’t leave the bed, let alone travel.

So your mood was not it to say the least.

At around dawn you finally got yourself out of bed in need of a new pad and went into the kitchen, the fridge had some leftovers from when Sam made lunch and some cold waffles from the morning.

You made yourself a warm cup of tea and sat miserably alone at the dining table trying to force some plain rice into your mouth.

After a few minutes of silence the door slid open and comes in Loki strutting on, the same Loki who you hadn’t seen since last fucking night, the same one who left the window slightly open before leaving!

"Bloody hell you’re sweating like you’ve ran a marathon-"

And that sentence right there was the hair that broke the camels head.

"You’re one to talk mr freeze! Mr I wash my hair everyday but it still looks greasy like you’ve jumped into a pool of oil!" You snaped smacking your spoon onto the table and storming off back to your room.

Your head felt too foggy at that moment and the second your head hit the pillow you started balling your eyes out.

Loki followed you shortly after, he stood by the door for a few seconds before walking to you on the bed and pulling you by your arms off the bed and into his arms.

"No! I’m…I’m so mean! I shouldn’t have said that I’m such a bitch oh my god!" You kept crying and groaning in discomfort.

"Shhh…you daft girl stop apologizing, I know you’ve having a hard day" he extended his hand and made small fireworks appear in his palm, your eyes watched the colorful lights for a long minute silently, feeling a tad silly for it to be the reason you calmed down.

Loki pinched your cheek teasingly before kissing your forehead and once again telling you he’s not upset about your outburst and that he heard worse.

"…why didn’t you go with everyone?" You asked having his hand laying on your stomaching like a heating pad.

"And leave you all alone to suffer? I am a prince and I know not to leave a maiden in distress" he smirked down at you.

Your lips parted slightly before you giggled breathlessly and pulled him down for a kiss.

Not sure if I reblogged this already but I hopped back into the Loki fandom after the series and the character development from years ago to now is astounding and everyone writes it SO WELL like I can tell MCU Loki from TVA Loki in all fics and I’m constantly impressed 🙏 this is one of my favorites

Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

*

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?”  he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

*

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation. 

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later. 

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together. 

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

*

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it. 

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

*

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh. 

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit. 

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net. 

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly. 

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar. 

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say. 

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants. 

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine. 

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you  and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

*

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee. 

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.

No Mercy [Loki x Female Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki interrogates you....sexually. Warnings. 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Ceremonial erotica. Fun & Games. Soft! Dom Loki. Established relationship. Light bondage. Denial. (w/c 1.8k)

“Do you plead mercy, little one?” Loki’s voice is terrifyingly calm. If it weren’t for the violently hard erection pressed against his thigh beneath those tight, slutty trousers you might actually believe you were in danger. Deny me, you’d challenged him. Make me break. And he has. And he’s close.

“You’ll never make me talk,” you say defiantly. The layer of fear in your voice is fake, but the tremble isn’t.

It feels like you’re dripping on the bed, knees together, folded to the side, hands tied to the posts. Loki’s eyes flicker to the sheets beneath you as you squirm and a slight narrow of his eyes confirms that yes, you are in fact, dripping on the bed.

You’ve been at this for almost an hour. He’s barely touched you. Just a graze of his tactfully deployed fingers, a blindfold, the targeted skim of his breath and the devastation of his carefully chosen words.

Now the blindfold runs between his fingers as he tilts his head, thinking. “My interrogation requires a little more...finesse, then,” he says, making the blindfold disappear in a flash of green. “A touch more...pressure.’ You whine, yanking the thick leather binds wrapped around your wrists. The manufactured innocence on your face is like blood to a free-wolf and Loki’s lips curl in a wicked smile.

“I’ve been doing this a long, long time,” he says imperiously as he unbuttons a cuff. His long fingers make slow work of folding the sleeve up the meat of his forearm. “I may be a Prince, but an Interrogator of the Crown was my calling, I think. Don’t you?” Your chin rises and you nail him with your stare, hoping your tits look as great as you think they do. You arch valiantly towards his quiet wrath and with a deep breath, you deploy your best 50's starlet impression. “You’ll never break me….Loki Laufeyson.” He releases an exaggerated growl that makes new arousal well between your tightly closed thighs. “Is that right?”

A golden flicker licks from his forehead, the horned diadem unfurling from nothing at all. He’s working on the other sleeve as he swaggers to the side of the bed, taking his time. An oil of sweat has formed on your chest and you squirm for real, trying to break free. “You know how I feel about the horns, oh god-” you mutter, breaking character, clenching as another devilish smile stretches his lips. He stands by your head, crotch inches from your face. So close you can see his cock throb through the fabric. So close you can smell the earthy sweetness of his pre-cum. A low rumble of laughter penetrates the air. “I think you’re closer to defeat than you let on, little one,” he says, drawing a cool finger down your cheek. “Desperate to yield to me, desperate to give in to my demands; to furnish me with the carnal knowledge of your body that I require…that the realm requires.” Against every instinct screaming in your body, you yank your face away. “Perhaps not,” he says bitterly. A wave of dark sandalwood fills your nostrils as the mattress dips and Loki mounts the bed one impossibly long leg at a time.

He spreads his knees while he spreads yours. His face is bladed and angular in shadow, smouldering eyes sparkling beneath his battle-crown of gold.

The god reaches forward and runs his huge palms up the front of your thighs. His touch is electric. You buck up, feeling a web of arousal stick against the bedsheets. Loki glances at it through half-lidded eyes, his trunk heaving with heavy, silent breaths. “You bring this on yourself,” he whispers coldly as a strange object appears in his hand. It looks like a little bell with a round, tapered tip. But heavy. It looks heavy. There's a slight amber tint that warms in the low light.

“My seal,” he explains with an air of condescension. He swings it between his thumb and forefinger. “You will submit to me...one way or another.” He leans closer, dragging the cool golden seal over the curve of your breast and a violent shiver wrenches down your spine. “They always do,' he says. "And I have come prepared.” His eyes follow the metal seal’s descent over the dip of your waist, enjoying the shudders of overstimulation they cause. The graze of his raised markings harden your nipples and you strain your neck to the ceiling as he runs a line down the centre of your stomach and pauses at the top of your mound. The weight between your legs is unbearable; it’s an emptiness only Loki’s cock can fill. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” he murmurs sweetly with those dark brows peaked. But it’s an act, trying to trick you – of course. Oh god, he’s so fucking hot, it’s terrible. Every urge screams to cry mercy and have him fuck you like a victorious king; ride him as you hang onto those horns and make him see double. “Do it,” you spit, clenching your teeth. You yank the leather ropes again. “Pervert.” Loki’s brows rise in genuine surprise, a flash of mirth you recognise skating across his face before his features harden again. Role play with Loki is like nothing else. The king of your heart, but king of the performance too. “Very well,” he says, and the cool roll of metal slips against your cunt. He toys with it, pressing its ridged base against your clit and rubbing it in slow, maddening circles. “This seal has started wars,” he says in the same calm, even tone, “ended them, too.” Your stifle a groan of pleasure as the curved tip dips inside your pussy. Its sharp bite seems to melt inside the heat of your slit. “But you may be my greatest challenge,” he purrs as he slides it from the hole. You whimper as he brings it to his lips, rolling it, moaning in a low inhumane frequency. “And since I have just now claimed you with my crest...perhaps your conscience will allow me to claim you with my cock.” Your will to resist is fading fast. Loki tsk’s with feigned irritation as the seal vanishes and his attention turns to the mess beneath your legs. Arousal sticks to your inner thighs in a glistening sheet.

You groan as he flexes his fingers in front of his face, thick veins standing to attention on the back of his hands. He folds all but two, sucking them between his lips and hollowing his cheekbones in the process like an absolute whore. Without a pause, he curls them inside you and the air dissolves from your lungs in a strangled moan of his name. “Doesn’t count…” he warns. You look at him with your mouth open, brow a map of twitching lines. "You have to say it."

Loki kneels between your legs, as cool as Jotunheim ice, pumping his fingers slowly inside your slippery cunt, thumb sliding against your swollen clit with an arrogant smirk on his face. Your hips rise to meet him on every thrust of his palm. Breath comes in short bursts as you clench around his fingers, back arching into his touch as orgasm threatens to ruin you- He slips them out. “Loki!”

The frustration is real - no need to act. The god’s eyes widen in a shameless caricature of innocence. “I have given you every opportunity to yield to me, I have I not?” He pushes the rolled sleeves of his perfectly fitted shirt higher in a targeted attack. Your legs have begun to tremble at the loss of his touch. “And at every opportunity," he continues, "you have stayed true to your loyalties...which I respect."

The ceremonial sincerity in his voice is sickeningly erotic as he hooks his hands beneath your knees. “But pleasure...true pleasure...is a privilege reserved for those who yield to me.”

The sharp cool of his metal diadem stings your flesh as he kisses your inner thigh. He draws closer to your desperate sex, so close you can feel his breath cool against it as he says, “So cry mercy darling, and it will be yours.” He’s really dialled the drama up to eleven tonight. Instinctually you try and lurch your arms forward to grab the curve of his horns and press him deep into your pussy; mad for the feel of his tongue flat and flawless moving against it. “Oh god,” you whimper, fighting yourself. “Good girl,” he purrs, grazing his parted lips over your swollen labia. It’s too much. “Oh god, Loki…” “Good girl, say it...beg for it,” he spits as he falls back on his haunches and reaches for the button of his suit trousers. He looks so fucking mean.

The beat in your chest has turned to syrupy thumps as your legs straighten and contract on either side of him. “You want to be my good girl…” A pop echoes and his cock suddenly weighs in his hand like a weapon. You’re salivating...actually salivating. He pumps slowly back and forth, jaw clenching, his eyes hard as flints. “Don’t make me finish myself on your traitorous face.”

“Mercy,” you gasp. Loki’s grin widens and it touches his eyes. He licks his lips. “Do you want me to stay in character?” he asks quietly as his clothes disappear- everything but the horned diadem on his head.

His shoulders roll and every muscle in his torso tightens, thighs bulging as he clenches against the punishing grip of his fist. You bite your lip, nodding. His eyes flash. “Well chosen,” Interrogator Loki says. The hard edge in his voice has returned with a vengeance and he melts the leather binds holding you with a wave of his hand. “I trust my faith in your repentance is not misplaced,” he says as he crawls up your body with intent. Loki’s hair swings around your jaw, the scent of him, the weight of him. His length presses like metal against your throbbing clit and you buck your hips, trying to catch him. Every thought in your head evaporates as Loki of Asgard buries himself inside you with a shuddering exhale. Your legs wrap around his hips, forcing his ass down, pushing him deeper.

There’s a thud, and then another one; the curve of his horns beating against the headboard. Loki deploys a wolfish smile as his fingers curl around your wrists. “Can’t take any chances with my minx of a prisoner,” he whispers against your cheek. “No mercy,” you moan into his open mouth. It’s a request he understands as he delivers another targeted roll of his hips. “No mercy,” he replies.

A/N - Have I told you guys how much I love you recently? Because I really do. I hope you know that. x

Tags ( in comments - all of you, soz. Normal way is not workinnng)

Prompt: “ don't cry... oh, please don't cry... “

-screnwriter

Loki x 1st person reader

(Fem? I said ‘little girl’, but other then that gnc :)

We were all trying our hardest to take that thing down. It was nearly impossible. We were all losing stamina; me a bit more than the others. We were almost done. We were so close. But there he went. Straight to the ground with only a single, fatal jab.

“Go! I got this!” Thor called out to me as he saw the panic nearly consume me. I swear, I ran faster than light itself. He attempted to silence his groans and cries out of pain as I greeted him at his side.

“Loki..” it was almost inaudible as I brushed his tangled hair off the side of his cheek. We both knew; though I’d rather not admit it. He stopped trying to sit up and examine his wound, resting his head against the scorched planet. His breathing was unsteady as I tried to get through his armor.

“Tell Thor I love him and-“

“No!”

I was not ready to let go. Determined as I was, I looked back at him, his smile still sweet as ever, even through his ache. I had been choking back my tears until that point.

‘Oh gods, down come the flood gates’

I couldn’t even help it, they were just flowing. My hand stayed resting on his cheek while the other sat on his shoulder.

“Don’t cry, oh, please don’t cry my love.” He started an attempt to put his own hand on my cheek. It shakily made its way there, still warm and soft. His thumb swiftly started wiping away tears as they fell from my eyes.

“We were supposed to have more,” I gasped. He gave me the type of ‘I know’ look a mother would her child. All I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl, was gone. his eyes seemed to be falling heavy as his hand started to slip from my cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” His voice was that of a groggy and raspy old man. I couldn’t help but let out an exasperated gasp of a laugh, quickly grabbing his hand with mine to keep it in place.

“I know.” My smile was wilting as fast as he was. I bent down to his face giving him one final kiss.

“I love you more.” My own hands were shaking as I whispered my remaining words to him. His smile perked up at that; I was just happy my words hadn’t fallen on deaf ears yet.

“Preposterous,” His smirk would remain engraved in my brain for a lifetime. My facial expression couldn’t stay the same. Only as his last breath was released did it remain a frown.

My head rested on his hardening chest with his now cold hand still on my cheek. Silent pleas fell out of my mouth as tears continued to fall from my eyes. I was afraid I’d be mute for life. Words cannot do him or I any justification, what his life and mine would’ve-could’ve been. Something everyone would know for sure about the what-ifs is that it would’ve been all for me; just as mine would be for him. I couldn’t unlove him now; and I didn’t want to.

“(Y/N)..” Thor hated to disrupt me, but our job was done. My voice remained silent and unused. The hurt in his own voice seemed as if it was attempted to be concealed, poorly. My eyes closed tighter, wanting to sit here till he was no more than a bag of bones. I wanted to say sorry, what for? I had no idea.

“He loves you.” I was no more than barely coherent, for it would break me to be any louder than I needed to be.

“I know.”

TW !!! SELF HARM !!

Loki x reader/you

Gender neutral !!

I recently relapsed and started to self harm again, one of the many reasons for my absence. I hope this lil fluff will help anyone else who is going through the same thing.

(P.S., this is definitely halfassed and I apologize for that)

You heard the subtle knocks on the door and assumed it was your beloved. On that assumption, you instinctively pulled your sleeves up, hiding old scars and the new. You had a major depressive episode the other night while he was asleep, causing you to relapse and sadly, cut again. He knew about your past and never held it above your head or pitied you, which you greatly appreciated.

“My love?” He gently opened the door, eventually sneaking in and closing the door behind him. You let out a quaint ‘mhm’ in response as you continued to read your book on your bed. He cautiously accompanied you on the bed and laid his hand on yours. To that you closed your book, making sure to dog-ear the page to not lose your spot. You gave Loki your full and undivided attention,to which he responded with nothing but silence.

“Is everything alright?” He said, breaking the silence after a short period of time. He’s brows were furrowed as he scanned your face for an expression. You nodded, using your other hand to fidget with the hem of your sleeve. You couldn’t bear the eye contact.

“Alright, I heard you crying in the bathroom last night, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” He rubbed the top of your hand gently, softening his eyebrows. After a few minutes of awkward silence, you pulled your hand out from underneath his and hesitantly pulled your sleeve up, revealing the fresh cuts. You knew you could trust him, and you knew he would do anything to help you. He loved you more than life itself. Your eyes stayed glued to your scars, terrified of the disapproval on his face. But that wasn’t the case. He lifted your wrist up to his lips and placed gentle kisses on each of your scars. When he was finished, he brought his hand up to your cheek, pulling you closer and giving you a kiss on the cheek. After he pulled back he started to gently rub your cheek.

“You know I love you, correct?” He asked. You smiled, which caused him to smile. You put your hand over his and rubbed it softly with your finger tips.

“Yes, I’m just not convinced you love me more than I love you.”



I love you

A/N: Bonsoir everyone ! This is the very start of my song collection, where I write a one shot based off of a song. The very first one in the collection is going to be ‘I love you’ by Billie Eilish. Hope u enjoy !!

Premise: Loki confronts you about his feelings.

Pairing: Loki x Russian!reader

Warnings: angst, commitment issues, overthinking, I think that’s it?

(NOT PROOF READ)

Word count: 1k (ikik, it’s short >:[ )

Translations: детка = baby Kjæreste = darling

I do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog !!

——————————————————————————-

It was late at night, the sun already finding itself halfway around the world. You were snuggled down in the lap of your lover, watching television as he read his book. His hearty chuckles and obvious discontentment as he read made you smile. You were barely even watching TV anymore. It was more appealing to listen to his reactions and his faint heartbeat.

You had been laid down on his chest for an hour or so, listening to his concave chest before he questioned you.

“Kjæreste?” Loki whispered, putting his book down and resting his hand on your back; sending shivers down your spine. You looked up at him and replied with a quiet ‘hm?’, your eyes heavy from the light.

“I want to take you somewhere.” He smiled quaintly, rubbing your back slightly. As your brows contorted towards confusion, you wondered where on earth it was he wanted to take you at this hour. You had barely been dating for a month, nothing major bound to happen.

“Now?” You mumbled groggily. Loki nodded, patting your back slightly. Your brain began racking around what he could possibly be up to. It wasn’t either of yours birthdays, it wasn’t an anniversary, it wasn’t a holiday, what could he possibly want to do at two in the morning?

“Alright.” You said, laying your head back on his chest for one final breath of his scent, a loud sigh forming in your lungs. As you let it out, you sat up, stretching your arms as Loki scurried off the moment he was free from your weight.

You thought it was odd, making sure you hadn’t forgotten some estranged holiday housed in your brain’s calendar and furrowing your brows once more at the occurrence. He soon returned with his coat and shoes on, as well as yours in hand.

“Here you go kjæreste.” He smiled offering you your coat. His smile warmed your soul. Thor had mentioned that you and his mother were the only two people he had seen Loki smile at. Which felt weird, considering he does it all the time when he’s with you. As you took the coat out of his hand with a yawn, he knelt down and began putting your shoes on.

“Thank you детка.” His cheeks grew red as you spoke, making you smile. After he finished tying your sneakers, he offered his hand to help you up off of the couch.

As you walked to the elevator and all the way to Central Park, where he wanted to take you, not a word had been uttered between you. He held you close with his hand over your shoulder as he guided you to a park bench in front of the Cherry hill fountain.

The silence dared you both to say something. Nothing but your synchronized heartbeats sounding. Until finally he squeezed your hand, forcing you to look at him. As your eyes met,

“I love you.”

Was murmured from his lips.

Your eyes went wide from utter disbelief as your hand lost its grasp on his. As your body unconsciously inched from his, you could hear his heart pound even faster. His lip began to quiver as your thoughts ran wild.

Did you hear him correctly? There’s no way in hell the god if mischief is seriously in love with you. This has to be a cruel joke. Were you even ready to commit if it wasn’t? He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t have. It was an accident. He didn’t mean to say it. What the hell were you thinking, getting involved with him in the first place? It wasn’t like you, you had never done this before. Yet here you found yourself, dumbfounded. The livelihood of your relationship relied on this moment right here, right now, and you couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

When you finally came back to reality, you saw his eyes, preparing for rejection. Tears already forming in his eyes. He’s never cried in front of you, and here you are, the root cause of it. Your eyelids fluttered, causing tears of your own to fall. You felt stupid. Not being able to think of a single word. You allowed your mouth to open, hoping it would take over from there. But it didn’t. You sputtered out a single word before he interrupted.

“It’s fine, I understand.” He looked into your eyes one last time, blurry as tears rushed down his face. He carefully stood up, wiping down his slacks before setting off.

You sputtered once again, your eyes trying to catch up with what was happening. As everything fell back in place, you realized his image becoming smaller, realizing this was your last chance. You quickly jumped up, sprinting after him. He didn’t glance back even once. You quickly caught up to him, calling out his beloved nickname.

“Детка,” he quickly turned around as you placed your dainty hand on his shoulder. His face was expressionless. His eyes were puffy and red as he looked down at you.

“I-“ you sputtered once more, eyes wandering his features as you laid your hands on his shoulders. As they wandered up to his cheeks, your brain scavenged for words. Just something to spit out, but you couldn’t find it. Soon enough you had pulled his face gently towards yours, kissing his once soft and smooth lips for what seemed like the last time. His hands met your waist, trailing up to your neck pulling you even closer.

As you finally released, foreheads connected, you found your words.

“I love you.”

He smiled, pecking your lips carefully.

“I love you too.”

You smiled back, grabbing his hand and tugging it back in the direction of your bench. As you sat down together, your head laid in his lap once more, watching the sun make its way back around to you.

You loved him, and he loved you.

There was no doubt about it.

I mostly post for Loki Laufeyson and Natasha Romanoff at the moment, but don’t be surprised if I throw someone else in here once in a while !

I only have one shots posted currently, but I do plan on posting some short fics here in the future !

What you can expect from me: angst, smut, fluff, comfort fics, hard kinks, soft kinks, and more !

(Warnings will of course be placed on any kinks.)

What you won’t see from me: incest, CNC/r*pe, scat/piss, non consensual physical ab*se/mental abuse, or anything similar.

(Any requests containing any of these will be deleted and ignored.)

If you have any requests or asks don’t be shy to ask !

“I love you - Billie Eilish” Loki x Russian!reader

Fics !

Ultraviolence

Loki x oc

One Shots !

“Don’t cry.. oh please don’t cry..”

Loki x f!Reader

“Sanctity”

Loki x sh!Reader

Nothing yet ! Check back later :3

Literally crumbling into a thousand pieces brb

The Power of Pie - GN One shot

Summary: Another belated Christmas story. You host for the holidays as Pepper's sibling and Loki can't help but be enchanted by you.

Warnings: None, pure fluff.

Words: 3.3k

It was Christmas day, and the Avengers were spending it at your home, Y/N Potts, the not so infamous, ever ordinary younger sibling of the much more unordinary Pepper Potts. Long before Pepper even met Tony, you had called dibs on the holiday. Out of all the holidays during the year, Christmas was your favorite, and even though you did not have a mansion or anything fancy – you simply loved hosting all your loved ones, feeding them, and seeing their smiles. Now those loved ones included the Avengers. It certainly made the holiday that much more interesting.

For some of the Avengers it was their first year joining you at your home. After numerous threats from Pepper for everyone ‘to be on their best behavior’, the whole Avengers team was piled into your quaint home just outside of New York City. While your home held that line between small and ‘not so small’, everything was cozy and decorated for the holiday. It was obvious you were obsessed with Christmas; every room was decorated from floor to ceiling. Again, you rode the line between Christmas Chic and ‘Christmas projectile vomited everywhere’. It was perfect, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

This year was the first year for the Asgardian brothers. Honestly, it was their first actual Christmas on ‘Midgard’ or Earth to everyone else. They stepped into your home and looked around, eyes wide with wonder as they took in all the beauty that was your home. Little Christmas details were everywhere, sparkling lights were hung with care, and you had one of the largest Christmas trees they had ever seen – it almost rivaled Starks back at the Tower. As soon as the crew stepped in, you barreled face first into your role as host. Grabbing and hanging up everyone’s coats, you ushered them into your charming kitchen and offered them hors d'oeuvres to snack on while the rest of the dinner was cooking. You had insisted that you make the whole meal yourself, being well aware of the crazy appetite of most of the Avengers. Cooking, especially cooking for others, was your passion and as they say: food is love!

“Everything smells heavenly, Y/N.” Thor grinned, popping some bruschetta into his mouth. And it was true, your home smelled amazing. There, on your kitchen island, laid a smorgasbord of appetizers that had the team wondering what the main course would consist of. Next to the bruschetta were smoked salmon crisps, Greek salad skewers, devilled eggs, squash blossoms, various cut vegetables alongside artisanal breads and a plethora of dips and sauces to choose from.

Loki looked at the vast spread in front of him with wonder. He wasn’t as familiar with Midgardian food as Thor was, but he was never opposed to trying something new. After careful examination, he took a bit of the squash blossoms and he had to stifle a moan, your cooking was that amazing.

“Thank you so much, Thor! But don’t fill up on the appetizers. There is much more coming.” Your words interrupted Loki’s mouthgasm and pulled his attention directly to you. You were flitting around the kitchen, checking on various dishes that were in different pots and pans, and paying special attention to a turkey you diligently basted. Closing the oven back up, you slung the kitchen towel you were using over your shoulder and wiped the sweat off your brow with the back of your arm. Frankly, you were a disheveled mess, but Loki couldn’t help but admire you. Clearly, you were in your element and the happiness that radiated through you flowed freely through the room and smacked Loki right in the heart. There was something so familiar about you, about your aura.

“They remind you of Mother, do they not?” Thor pulled Loki from his lingering stare with a not so careful jab of his elbow into his younger brother’s side. Loki growled in response, not verbally responding, but the thought intrigued him. He watched you carefully, while trying not to be too obvious, as you played host. Your fluid movements and ability to handle anything and everything clearly made you some sort of witch, but it was your heart that peaked his interest the most. Even while conducting the orchestra that was your kitchen, you still engaged in meaningful conversation with every person in the room. You paid special attention to each person, picking up on the smallest of details and sharing your mutual enthusiasm for the passions they shared and paid humble homage to the complicated mess that was their lives as an Avenger.

You even conversed with Loki, which came as a great surprise to him, as he was only brought along by the graciousness and persistence of Thor. Tony had wanted to leave Loki back at the Tower, but ultimately thought keeping an eye on him was the better move.

“Usually, I like to try and figure out my guests’ favorite dishes, but unfortunately I don’t know that much about Asgardian cuisines.” You gave Loki an apologetic look, offering yet another plate of hors d'oeuvres; this time it was sweet potato crostini with prosciutto honey roasted figs. Again, after careful examination, he took a bite, and it was as if his mouth was his own personal Valhalla. He let out a contented groan and you couldn’t help but grin and laugh, clearly satisfied with your work and his reaction.

“That doesn’t matter as long as you cook like this,” The young prince said, licking his fingertips. Your quick glance to his lips was not missed by him. “Clearly, you are talented when it comes to cooking.”

The casual compliment seemed to fluster you a bit, a rosy hue now gracing your cheeks. But thankfully, you quickly recovered, and then started a compelling conversation with the God of Mischief. You had asked him about his holidays back on Asgard, his hobbies, and interests. Everything was very lighthearted, and he adored your attention after being the black sheep for so long. You never asked about any of his crimes or questionable past. He was just another guest, but apparently one you took particular interest in as you chatted with him way longer than your other guests. All the while, you gracefully maneuvered around the kitchen with perfect precision and perfect timing as you brought dish after dish out for the main course. Yes, truly you were a witch.

But one thing the God noticed was how no one had offered to help you. Clearly, you had everything under control and could do so with one hand behind your back, but if there was one thing his dear mother Frigga had taught him was to be polite in other’s homes.

“Darling, can I help you in some way?” Instant whiplash! You turned your head around to face Loki so fast; you were sure your neck would be sore in the morning. Normally, there wouldn’t be any offers of help as you ran around the kitchen in your own personal episode of Iron Chef. You might look like a pro, but mostly you felt like a chicken with its head cut off, so the offer came as a relief to you.

“Yes,” You let out a long-exhausted sigh, you didn’t realize you were holding in. “I hear you’re good with knives. Is that right?”

“So, I have been told.” He replied with his wide signature grin. There goes your head and your heart, getting flustered again.

“Heh, well, if you don’t mind,” You turned your head away from him slightly, trying to hide your growing blush, but his eyes just followed you. Still, he grinned. “The turkey is done, and everything is pretty much ready to be served. Would you mind carving the turkey?”

“It would be my pleasure.” His face softened a bit, glad that you were actually accepting his help. He had feared that you would reject his offer. In a moment, he was by your side with a flourish of green and his seidr, a set of long Asgardian daggers appeared in his hands. He flipped them with ease and you oo’d and ahh’d at his tricks and Loki soaked up your attention like a dry sponge.

“Well, that’s handy,” You giggled, and immediately Loki decided he loved the melody of your laugh, “But, if you are accepting this task, my dear prince, I have one more I must insist on.”

Now, it was the God’s turn to blush at your possessive term of endearment. Much to his surprise, he liked being called your prince.

“And what is that my dear?” He leaned forward, creeping closer to your face. You too, leaned forward, your faces only inches apart. Lost for a moment in each other’s eyes, before a cheeky grin took over your face and you presented a classic red Santa hat to your turkey savior.

“I must insist you wear this! It’s tradition after all.” For a moment, Loki hesitated. All eyes were on the two of you now and he did not want to look like a fool in front of the Avengers. They already tease him endlessly. But, when you looked at him with big pleading eyes, he couldn’t say no. So, he donned the hat and flashed a smile in your direction.

“How do I look?” He asked, his face starting to flush red again like the hat that sat on top of his long black locks.

“Handsome.” You said simply, before patting his arm and grabbing a dish to bring to the dining room table. Now, with a puffed-out chest filled with pride at your compliment, he went to work with expert precision on the roasted bird before him. It wasn’t long until the turkey was fully carved, the table was filled with incredible dishes, and everyone was sitting and enjoying. Conversation flowed easily between everyone, between heroes and former foes alike, all thanks to the power of your amazing cooking and the holidays. Laughter and groans of contentment with each bite filled the room and it made your heart soar with pride.

“Everything is absolutely incredible!” Thor boomed, taking one last swig of his drink, and promptly smashing the cup on the ground with a proclamation of “Another!”

Loki grinned at his brother, clearly consumed with joy from the conversation and alcohol and followed suit. His cup soon joined Thor’s on the ground with a loud crash.

“Yes! Another!! Everything is so delicious.” The two brothers smirked and cackled and gave each other boisterous high fives as they celebrated their meal.

Meanwhile, the rest of the table sat in stunned silence. The Asgardian tradition was not new to the Avenger’s team by any means, but it was the first Christmas the brothers attended in your household. They had no idea they had destroyed not only the finest china you probably own, but also priceless family heirlooms that have been handed down for generations. Everyone has heard the story of how the fine china was ‘from the old country’ and has been passed down from your great, great, great grandmother down through your family and now onto you; a torch you loved to bare as you hoped to pass it on down to your children and beyond too.

After their princes’ laughter died down, they soon realized that everyone was staring at them. All except Tony Stark who was pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, clearly exasperated by the guests he brought into your home. It was Pepper that finally spoke up.

“That china was passed down for generations on our family! How could you do that?!” She yelled. The two brothers looked at each other, now stunned themselves at their grave error. With a slow turn of his head, Loki looked towards you, cringing at his mistake. You stared back at him, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes before slowly standing up and grabbing a broom and dustpan. Without a word, you swept up the mess and left the dining room leaving everyone in a heavy, uncomfortable silence.

Loki heart sat thick in his throat and for a few moments, he sat in the discomfort of the room. Then, without another thought, he jumped up from his chair and followed you into the kitchen. Just as you were about to dump the shards of glass into the trash, he grabbed your wrist to stop you. You shot him a glare that sent shivers down his spine.

“Please, wait. I am sorry.” Loki’s eyes were wide and pleading and despite your anger, you listened to him. He let out a huffy, thankful laugh as he reached and took the dustpan from your hands. With a wave of his own hands, and a swirl his of his green seidr, the shards of glass started to melt and mend back together until the two glasses were like new again. You stood, staring in wonder, as this all played out in front of your very eyes.

“Again, I am so sorry, and I apologize for my oafish brother as well. Blame our cultural differences, but we truly meant no offense. Please forgive us…. forgive me?” He spoke his words softly, carefully, as he gently placed the two glasses into your hands. His calloused hands engulfed yours as his thumbs tenderly stroked your skin. You hummed thoughtfully for a moment, considering his offer before a smirk crossed your face.

“I guess I can forgive you this one time, my dear prince.” Immediately, Loki flushed yet again at your liberal use of possessive nicknames. He just met you, but he loved it more each time you had said it.

“Hm, right. Right – thanks, thank you!” He stammered, silent cursing to himself for losing his silvertongue around this enchanting mortal. Without another word, you grabbed his hand with one of yours and the two glasses in the other and lead him back to the dining room. You were greeted with whoops and hollers as you held up the now fixed glasses in the air. Putting the glasses back down on the table, you turned to the prince next to you and gave him a round of applause. Gradually, with your encouragement, everyone joined you in praising your new hero. If the young prince was flushed before, he was definitely red now.

The incident seemed to pass on from everyone’s minds from that moment, and dinner concluded without any further issues. Conversation resumed, and Loki was thankful for your sweet looks of reassurance from across the table. He had feared everyone would forgive Thor for the mistake as the team’s Golden boy, but Loki was still redeeming himself as a former villain. You changed the narrative and made him the hero without question, despite the fact he had initially caused the problem. The gesture was small, but it meant the world to him.

After everyone’s bellies were full, it was time for gifts. Everyone gathered around your giant Christmas tree that was perfectly placed in the front of your comfy living room. Your heart swelled when Loki again volunteered to help you by managing the fireplace, after you explained how Christmas is not the same without a warm and cozy fire. He stacked the wood and lit the fire like a true expert, until he leaned back, hands on his hip and proud of his work. You admired him from across the room as you handed out everyone’s gifts. It was nice having someone help you with hosting after doing it on your own for so long. Granted, you loved it, but there was something sweet, romantic, and surprisingly domestic about doing these things with someone else. Let alone someone as handsome as the God of Mischief.

Eventually, your feet carried you over to him with a small gift in your hands. You had made sure to do your research on each of your guests and get a personal gift for each of them. Loki was no exception. The look on his face was priceless as he turned from the flames within the fireplace to you and your gift. He searched your face for any signs of trickery, years of mistrust fueling him. But when he didn’t find any malice or ill intent in your eyes, only hopefulness, he took the gift from your grasp and started to open it.

“I heard you liked to read, so I thought you might like this. Hope it is alright! I won’t be offended if you don’t like it.” Loki’s eyes flitted from the gift to you, until he unwrapped a collection of works by William Shakespeare. He flipped the book over, back and forth, before he finally locked onto your eyes. You, a mere mortal who likely only knew of his past, went out of your way to give him a special and thoughtful gift. The trickster’s emotions threatened to overwhelm his as his eyes turned glassy.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” He simply said. You only reflected happiness back at him before reaching forward, gently caressing his cheek with your soft hand. Again, your actions were so simple, but they were so impactful. Loki found himself unintentionally leaning into your touch and then following it with his cheek when you parted from him. A giggle bubbled from you as you watched the tall God turn into putty in your hands. Sheepishly, Loki bit his bottom lip as his craving for your touch was clearly found out by you. But you didn’t say anything and instead patted his shoulder and carried on with passing out the gifts.

Loki watched you like a hawk from his spot by the fire, taking his job as ‘fire manager’ very seriously. Again, you went from task to task, person to person, as you passed out gifts and desserts and made sure everyone had what they needed to feel happy and cozy. Every action was thoughtful and selfless, and the young god was captivated by you. He had never met anyone like you before and here you are, accepting him and the rest of the crazy bunch that was called the Avengers in your home with nothing but grace and unconditional love.

By the end of the evening, most of the crew was passed out in various chairs around the living room; everyone except you and Loki who still sat by the fire, munching on a shared piece of pie. Again, the groans that left Loki was borderline unholy as he ate your deliciously sweet treat. You could only blush and chuckle in response. Every groan was considered a compliment to you.

“This is positively amazing. Everything you make is incredible, truly.” He confessed to you with earnest. Giggling again, you could only continue to thank him for his relentless compliments and munch away.

“So, do you do this often?” His question pulled you from the dessert in front of you.

“What do you mean?”

“Take care of everyone around you?” He asked simply and sincerely, before taking another bite. Still, his icy blue eyes remained locked on you. For a moment, his directness took you aback, but you only shrugged and broke away from his intense gaze.

“I guess so.”

“And who takes care of you?” That snapped your eyes right back to his. Now, you were truly stunned and wasn’t sure what to say. You thought about all the previous years, all the times you hosted and took care of the family no matter what happened. It became apparent to you that you were handling this all on your own, but it didn’t matter to you. You just simply found joy in helping and caring for others. You didn’t expect anything in return.

“Well, that’s not why I do it. I just like taking care of the people who I care about.” You took another bite of pie, giving Loki a sly wink as the utensil lingered in your mouth. It seemed to fluster him for a moment, and you silently rejoiced at rattling the handsome God.

“That’s not what I mean. I didn’t mean a ‘tit for tat’ type of situation. It is obvious you are truly a caring and pure person, but you deserve to be cared for too.” Now, it was your turn to be flustered. His eyes held nothing, but pure adoration for you and words struggle to form as your heart thudded away in your chest.

“Thank you,” Was all that you could meekly say, your cheeks turning rosy not only from the warmth of the fire.

And it was in that moment, sitting in front of the dancing flames in your quaint home, sharing a piece of pie you made with pure love, that the God of Mischief knew he hopelessly fell for a sweet, selfless mortal.

You.

Could you please write a smut scenario with Loki x fem!reader where the relationship is kept secret and you would need to be silent cause the avengers are sitting next room? <3

Your pathetic noises, Loki Laufeyson

masterlist

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Summary: Kitchen sex with Loki, what more can I say?

Word count: 507

Contains: smut. quicky. unprotected sex.

Notes: idk how I’m writing so many blurbs for filthy friday. Who am I??

Minors do not interact

Requests are closed

not my gif

You’re unsure of how you ended up in this situation. Hips digging into the edge of the counter as Loki’s hips rub against your ass. His voice barely a whisper in your ear.

“You can be quiet for me, can’t you?” His words send a shiver down your spine as you push your ass back against him. You nod your head quickly. Wasting no time, he begins to undo your jeans, sliding them to your knees, quickly joined by your underwear. You lean forward, your elbows rest on the cool kitchen counter as you wiggle your ass at him.

A low groan emits from his chest as his hand comes down to grope you before he focus’ on undo his own slacks. Tugging them down just enough to free his already hard cock, he positions himself at your entrance before slowly pushing in. He rests his head on your shoulder for a moment to muffle the noise that dares to escape him.

Time is short and the rest of the team being in the other room doesn’t help. You can hear them laughing and talking about whatever show they’re watching but all you can focus on is the feeling of Loki’s cock starting to drag in and out of you so slowly. Splitting you open and already making the heat in your stomach grow.

You bury your face in your hands, trying so hard to be as quiet as possible. On the other side of the kitchen door is far too many people with enhanced senses and hearing and the last thing you need is to scar them for life.

“As much as I love your pathetic noises, you need to be quiet.” The harshness or his words and the feeling of his hot breath on your ear has you weak in the knees. You feel yourself getting closer to your end but this isn’t enough to push you over.

“Please, please speed up.” You’re sure you didn’t actually say it, barely hearing your own words but Loki did. He stands back up, his hands find purchase on your hips before he gives in to your request. The pace he sets is brutal. The tip of his cock incessantly nudges that spot inside you that sends you hurdling towards your end.

His hands clamps over your mouth as your walls flutter around him. A white heat tears through your body as you softly moan into his hand. Your orgasm send Loki head first into his. Coating your walls with his cum, his forehead rests between your shoulder blades as he comes down from his high.

Your thighs shake as your body relaxes against the counter, face pressed flat as your head rests to the side. The cold of the counter is a welcome feeling against the heat of your forehead and cheek.

Fixing your clothes, you both return to the lounge room and continue watching whatever was on the tv. Bucky leans over to you, whispering in your ear.

“You two aren’t as quiet as you think.”

3, 7 and 9 for Loki

It takes a lot to make Loki sick, so when he does he's an absolute bear and wants to be doted on. Plus, kisses make the ache/hurt feel better.

You Make It Better

Loki x reader

Words: 347

~~~~~

Based on:

3. Acts like a baby when they’re sick

7. Secretly loves nose/forehead kisses

9.Gets cranky when they’re tired

~~~~~

“Darliiiinnggg,” dragged a hoarse voice coming from your bedroom.

“I’m coming,” you say, putting the finishing touches on the hot tea.

Loki was sick, or something of the sort. You didn’t exactly know what it was and at first when you pointed out he was ill, he declined, claiming that he doesn’t get sick. But it was obvious; the tired eyes, the unusual unkempt look, his more irritable than usual tone, it was obvious that he wasn’t well.

After disagreeing with you for about an hour, you’ve somehow done it. You’ve convinced him to take a nap and the moment his body hit your bed, his attitude melted and he did a complete one-eighty.

His voice that was booming before was now soft with each word.

Currently finishing up, you slowly step into the bedroom with the cup in hand. Across the room, there Loki lay waiting for you.

“I made you Peppermint tea,” you said, holding it out.

He gently pushed your hand to the side, “I don’t need foolish tea,” he said. “Okay, what do you need then? Cold water? A warm towel? A cold towel?”

Despite being unwell, that didn’t stop a grin from spreading along on his face, without a word he tugged you downwards and you leaned lowering your head closer. Bringing both of his warm hands to your cheeks he continues to pull you. You expect him to stop sometime, but he pulls you until your lips are against his forehead. Then he leans back satisfied, “much better,” he says with a wink and you shake your head with a grin.

“Get some rest,” you say, turning around to leave the room. “Wait!” He shouts and you turn back, “I need one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

His arms extended out, “Your warmth.”

Although a little bit surprised, you can’t help but grin to yourself, who would’ve thought that the man who used to abhor romance would be laying in front of you begging for your cuddles.

You climbed into his arms making yourself the little spoon before you relaxed against him.

AHHHHHH

Dad, Don't Kill Him ➳ Loki Laufeyson

➳ this is from the pregnancy prompt list. if you want to see me write a fic from this prompt list, let me know! :) sorry for any mistakes!

➳ a/n: AHHHHH this one has my heart 😭💗

➳ pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Stark!Reader

➳ summary: As the daughter of Tony Stark, when you find out you and Loki are pregnant, you can only hope that your dad takes the news well. And doesn't try to murder Loki.

➳ warnings: talks of pregnancy, if that triggers you. other than that, just pure fluff! 💗

➳ prompts: “I already know this kid’s gonna be the luckiest kid in the world. They’ve got you as a mom/dad/parent/aunt/uncle/etc.”

➳ || Loki masterlist || main masterlist || who I write for 💓 ||

“Darling, it’s going to be fine,” Loki said as the two of you walked toward the front door of the lakeside cabin he lived in. In your pocket were the ultrasound pictures of the baby you weren’t expecting to conceive this soon, and it was all still so surreal to know that you and Loki were going to be parents.

You recalled the rocky past that Loki and your father, Tony Stark, shared. Everything went downhill during the 2012 New York attack, but when Loki redeemed himself, you found yourself falling head over heels in love with him -- and there was nothing Tony could do about it. Although he had tried to argue with you about the consequences of falling for someone of Loki’s kind, his heart ultimately softened when he saw how happy Loki made you, and how he treated you.

When the two of you were married, Tony promised Loki that if something happened to you, he would ensure no one could ever find him again. And Loki knew it wasn’t just a promise. It was a promised threat.

Loki wrapped his hand around your back. “I’m just… Worried, you know? Our engagement through Dad for a loop, even though we had been dating for two years prior… He’s just… Loki, he’s Tony Stark. He’s as intimidating as he is cocky.”

“But not toward his little girl,” Loki reminded you with a softened smile. “Darling, excluding myself, you are giving him his first grandchild. He’s going to be elated… He may try to kill me for impregnating his daughter, but he should’ve known that was coming. If only he knew how you acted when he wasn’t around. You’re certainly not a saint.”

“Loki!” You groaned, realizing he was trying to alleviate the situation. Loki mustered a grin and kissed the side of your cheek as you grabbed the doorknob. Pushing your way inside, you saw your father come down the stairs.

“Hey, kid!” He smiled widely before it dropped. “...Reindeer Games,” Tony added once he registered Loki until he half-smiled.

“Stark,” Loki laughed.

Tony walked over and engulfed you in a hug before he shook Loki’s hand. “What brings you by? I wasn’t expecting to see you until the weekend,” He said, walking into the kitchen. You followed closely behind, seeing as your father plucked a grape from the bunch on the counter and popped it into his mouth.

You smiled to yourself. “Dad, there’s something I need to tell you,” You whispered.

Tony’s eyebrows lifted. “If it’s to tell me you and Reindeer Games are expecting,” He said, and that’s when your smile dropped. Tony looked up at you, seeing how your face fell. He glanced between you and Loki who rubbed the small of your back.

“Y/N?” He called your name. “Are you serious?” He asked.

Hesitantly, you reached into your back pocket and pulled out the ultrasound pictures. Handing them over to him, Tony glanced between you and your extended hand.

“Twinkle Toes, you got my daughter pregnant?” Tony asked as he accepted the pictures. He flipped them open and your heart pounded violently in your chest as his eyes observed the tiny baby in the black and white photograph.

“Tony,” Loki laughed.

Tony’s brown orbs pooled as he ran his fingers over the images. You sucked in a shaky breath as you waited for his reaction. He broke out into a grin. “I already knew, kid.” He said, not taking his eyes off the picture.

“H-How?” You breathed out.

Tony chuckled. “Your mother had the same glow about her when she was pregnant with you,” He said. Your eyes clouded with tears and Tony quickly wrapped his arms around your body. “Congratulations, sweetheart,” He kissed the top of your head. “But I’m gonna kill you,” He pointed at Loki.

You giggled as he released you to shake Loki’s hand. “Congratulations, Sparkles. But now that this baby is going to have Stark blood in them… I hope you can handle it.” He winked. “And if they come out blue, I want a refund.”

“DAD!” You squeaked, earning him to ruffle his hand through your hair, playfully messing it up.

Tony winked, kissing your temple. As you hugged him, you couldn’t help but start to cry. “I already know this kid’s gonna be the luckiest kid in the world. They’ve got you as a granddad.” You looked up at Tony whose brown eyes were brimming with tears.

He picked up the ultrasound pictures again, his breath catching.

“Stop, I hate for you to see me cry.” He laughed, wiping his eyes.

You smiled, nuzzling closer to him. “Thanks for not killing, Loki,” You whispered.

Tony peeked an eye open and stared at Loki who rolled his eyes playfully.

“Oh, he’s not off the hook yet,” Tony announced with a laugh.

➳ tagging:

@joyful-enchantress @immersed-in-mischief @huntress-artemiss @high-functioning-lokipath

@annoyingsweetsstranger

@eclecticlokibytomhiddleston @spidyyparker @deanaddicted2

@ethanshide @lokistoriesblog @l0st-in-reality

@shae-annelore

@realandloud

@favthiddles

@marvelgirl0515

@tiredmamamac

@cherii--bomb

@stuckybarton

@peachsteven

@vampire7595

@moonshooter

@knopewyattworld @holdmytesseract

@wander-lustbabe

@captain-asguard @mm2305

@1marvelnerd3000

@xfirespritex @lokilover64 @augusta-imperatrix

@inas-thing

@harrietbarnesblog

@a-laufeyson

@BakaTsuki-Hime

@lokiswildheartcantbebroken @marvelgirl0515

@a-laufeyson

@warriorqueenofthesea @develin13

@clockblobber

@blackberryblossom

@stephv213

@asgardianprincess1050 @badgereatingmice

@abaristasbabble

@pandaxnienke

@dryyoursaltyoceantears

@itscale

@xsweetdellzx

@salempoe

@el-zef

Ultraviolence

(Not my gif!)

A/N: ….let’s pretend that I didn’t take a giant hiatus and not write for months on end…. K? K.

Bonsoir every1 !!! I’m so happy to be back writing and super excited to publish my first fic !! I’m going to attempt to post 1 chapter a week but will see how that goes lol. Anyways, I hope u enjoy my newest baby, ‘Ultraviolence” !!

Premise: Your a psychiatrist for the Avengers focusing on PTSD and trauma rehabilitation. When Thor’s estranged brother gets sentenced to live on earth till Odin sees fit, you find yourself attempting to help Loki.

Pairing: Loki x OC, (Nadezhda Novikov)

Warnings: none rlly for this chapter :)

(NOT PROOF READ)

Word count: 1.5k

Translations: none.

I do not give anyone permission to translate or

repost my work, please be respectful - if you

enjoyed please comment or reblog!!

Chapter 1 : The introduction

————————————————————————

"Mornin dez" Stark entered the compound's kitchen, immediately heading for the coffee pot as you drank out of your own cup.

"Good morning Anthony." You said irritatedly. Anthony always found a way to rub you the wrong way. No matter what is was, he always pissed you off. Maybe it was the whole big brother little sister relationship you two always had, or just both your sarcastic personalities bouncing off of each other.

"Dez !" Natasha, Your big sister, said running up to you with her wide, pearly, smile. You smiled giving her a big hug in return. One grumpy Yelena followed behind, snatching Anthony's fresh cup of coffee right out of his hand with a smile.

After escaping the red room, you dedicated your time to gaining your psychology degree and fighting crime with the fellow avengers. You had 'superpowers' yourself, probably the only reason you were an avenger in the first place. You acted as a team therapist, as well as specializing in trauma recovery. Today you began to help the dreaded assignment, or at least that's what everyone told you it would be like. You had never met Loki Laufeyson, but you were about to.

"You almost ready?" You snapped out of your trance, watching Fury walk through the door. Him, Anthony, Thor, and Bruce would be helping and supervising you throughout the project.

Loki had been commanded to stay on earth under the avengers custody until Odin, deemed it fit for him to return to his homeland. Thor visited daily, mostly coming back torqued after some argument they had.

"Mhm," you said, gulping the last bit of coffee you had left, grabbing your books, notepad, and pen.

As they all accompanied you down the eerily unoccupied hall; zero words were exchanged as you finally made it to the gods chambers.

Anthony pushed ahead of you all. After swiping a keycard, using his hand print, AND a retinal scan, the door let out a loud series of clicks. He quickly moved out of the way as Thor took lead, pushing the door open walking in unbothered. Anthony and fury followed, you being last in line. As you entered the room, Loki sat chained to an interrogation table. You sighed at the overprotective security. You had once been in his shoes, except instead of trying to take over a whole city you tried to assassinate the whole team.

This occurred right after you were freed from Dreykov's custody. You failed to believe your sisters were your sisters, and that the avengers had saved you. As you held your own sister cornered against the wall, she said your name. Not your number, not your code. She humanized you. For the first time in your life you heard your given name aloud.

"Does he really have to be chained to the table?" Your accent thick, shocking the man sitting across the table. Anthony rolled his eyes and laughed.

"While we're in here? Uh, yeah. When we leave do whatever floats your boat. Just remember I'm not cleaning up your bloody corpse." You rolled your eyes sitting at the seat already pulled out for you.

"Who's this?" Loki looked over at the three men. Anthony had already started to leave, done with the situation at hand.

"She's a—a friend, who wants to help you.." Thor stuttered out, clearly not good at coming up with something on the spot. Nick rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms impatiently.

Fury was hesitant to even entertain your idea of treating; or at least attempting to treat Laufeyson. He was a full case file waiting to be closed. Another relic in Shield's database.

"I've got it from here, I'll let you know when I want out." You laughed, ushering them along.

As the door clicked shut, you brought your hands out and allowed the magic to flow through your palms and to the cuffs.

"I'm letting you out. And remember these hands aren't just for unlocking cuffs." You smiled as he rolled his wrists, rubbing the faint lines they left with his opposite hand.

"So are you going to tell me what you are?" He snarked. You laughed under your breath, opening your note pad.

"I'm one of them, but I'm also a psychiatrist." You looked up from the yellow pages, staring right into his eyes. His face contorted through plenty emotions, before settling on one. Anger.

"I don't need a fucking psychiatrist." He spat through gritted teeth, anticipating you to be upset.

But you stayed content.

"No, but I'm sure I can help." You shrugged, continuing to remain eye contact. He rolled his eyes and stayed silent.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Your brows furrowed, keeping that contact as you clicked your pen.

"I have a feeling your going to ask them anyways." He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"Mhm!" You hummed enthusiastically, purely to piss him off.

"So, I have your file here, at least what we were able to obtain from your brother-"

"Adoptive, brother." He cut you off.

"Adoptive, brother," you sighed. "Is there anything you'd like to share before we go through your history?" Quite monotonously said.

"I'll correct you as we go." He replied slouching back in his seat.

After about an hour of back and forth about what Thor had said and Lokis take on it, you finally had your notepad full. But, you hadn't got to current events just yet. You could feel his knee bouncing faster and faster as you neared the present.

"If you wish to stop at anytime please tell me. The only way I can truly help you is if your honest with me, and trust me." You hadn't even bothered bringing Odin up; despite the fact he's the source of it all.

He rolled his eyes and sat upright.

"I don't need your pity." He sneered once more.

"What makes you think it's pity?" You cocked your head, putting your pen down.

"It's all anyone offers. Pity or hatred. Nothing more, nothing less."

"It's empathy, Loki. And to be fair the hatred is well deserved, you came into these peoples planet, their home, and tried to take over." You took a pause. "But it can be forgiven."

"Do you truly think I'm stupid enough to fall for the fake ideology that 'all can be forgiven?' I am a god you dull Midgardian. I cannot, and WILL not be forgiven for my actions, and I could give two shits if they did." Your eyes widened a bit at the speech, but without fail you had a comeback.

"No, not everyone will forgive you. That is impossible. And something all of us have to cope with. We are not perfect, god or human. And we also have to accept that. I think that's something we should work on; as well as this feeling that you don't deserve forgiveness." You said rather calmly for just being called a dull Midgardian.

He said nothing in response, concluding your session. As you took a peep at your watch realizing it had been about an hour, you flipped you notepad shut, and raised you hand to put his back in cuffs.

"Someone will escort you to your room in a few minutes. I look forward to working with you, Loki." You smiled at him. He frowned, more confused than anything.

As you made your way around stark tower, you arrived at the conference room you were supposed to meet at after the appointment.

"Agent Novikov," Fury greeted you. Anthony gave a nod and Thor gave a smile. A moment of silence passed as you settled into your office chair at the table, cracking open your notes.

"So, how'd it go with reindeer games?" Stark finally broke the silence. His hands intertwined, resting on the glass table top.

You sighed, briefly looking at your notes.

"I have reason to believe he has significant trauma, mostly surrounding his upbringing and parentage. As well as a suicide attempt, that led to his run in with Chitauri. Possibly anger issues, more or likely stemming from childhood. Other than that I've seen worse cases; he's not a lost cause." Your brows furrowed as you glanced over your notes quickly again.

"So, what's your course of action?" Fury questioned.

"Therapy, socialization, possibly medication? Not quite sure about that though; I do think he should be socialized with the team, treated as if he's not a threat. That would be good for him."

"Woah woah there, slow your roll, he is a threat. And I'm not sure it's a good idea to have him outside of his cage until we're sure he's improving." Stark intervened. You nodded in agreement.

"Of course. But as soon as I'm sure he's improving, I'd like to further discuss socialization with the team." You agreed, standing up with your note pad and pen clutched to your chest.

Thor gave you a thanks on your way out, as you made it back to the common room where Natasha was waiting for the news.

Imagine...Introducing Loki to Disney Films

Loki: Why are we doing this again?

You: Disney is and always will be a huge part of my life, Loki! Come on!

Loki: Fine. Only because I love you though.

You: *smiles as you drag him to your room*

~HOURS LATER~

You: *flopping back on the bed* That was awesome. Thanks for watching with me.

Loki: ...

You: *sitting up* Loki, are you okay?

Loki: *sniffs* Fine...

You: Loki, are you... crying? Did the Lion King really make you cry?

Loki: Of course not! I am a god! I would not...

You: *raises eyebrows*

Loki: You tell anyone, prepare to die.

A Maid’s Story

I may have liked Thor, but I simply loved Loki. He had always been kind to me, more so once my parents, Freya and Odur, abandoned me. Odur wandered off and because I reminded her of him, she left me. I was taken in to be a maid in Valhalla and that’s what I’ve been doing.

It was to my great honor and duty to be Loki’s own maid. He was never unkind or lashed out at me. It was nice. For a while anyway.

I had been woken up in the middle of the night by a knock on my door. I rushed to get it and was greeted by a wild eyed servant, who quickly told me to go to his majesty’s room. I grabbed my apron, bandages (just in case), and the four-pointed star pin my mother gave me that I never went anywhere without. 

Once I got to his door, I was greeted by a cold grip, and the door being slammed shut behind me. The light was dim but I could see a dark stain on the back of his shirt. It was spreading, fast, and I recognized the liquid as blood.

“My prince,” I whispered, “what-”

“Just take care of it (Y/N),” Loki snapped at me.

I nodded and unbuttoned his shirt, my hands shaking. Four long gashes lined his back. Tears sprang to my eyes as I began to wrap the bandages around his torso.

I finished a short time later, and began to clean up after myself. I placed the bandages back in my pocket and made to the door. I was almost standing when I felt a tug on my hand. Looking back, I saw Loki had taken a hold of m hand.

“Stay with me, please. I cannot bear to be alone tonight,” he pleaded with wide eyes. 

I took a deep breath and nodded.

He stood, and led me to his bed. He climbed in the left side, and I took the right. He wrapped his arms around me and, just before I fell asleep, I heard him whisper, “Thank you, (Y/N).”

Oh my gods I needed this!!

We all know he lived. By the way, this is available as a print on my new shop!

- Reblog, Do Not Repost! -

instagram: laquilasse twitter: laquilasse Etsy: laquilasse

Shit, I need more like this. This is so good.

cruel god

A/N: boom! take this loki ficlet because I don’t want to look at it anymore. no plot, no conflict, just vibes and tickles. this is my first writing in ages and my first writing for loki. thanks @ticklishraspberries for beta-ing ily bestie <3

Summary: Loki’s only cruel because you enjoy it.

Word Count: 448

“I beg your pardon?”

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