#Loki X Reader

[um-im-antisocial]

The most annoying thing is searching up an xreading of a character, AND ITS ALL SMUT!! You know what characters I’m talking about, there’s the smallest amount of fluff or angst fanfics, but a mountain of smuts. It’s getting so annoying to only find smut now. Can people stop being horny pigs, like wtf is going on now. Idk how people can only read smuts and thing reading about fucking all the time is okay!

[innorality]

helping tony stark blow off some steam ...

cw : french kissing, handjob, blowjob, reader is a swallower, kinda ooc/submissive/really lost in the pleasure tony, reader is a teaseee

a/n : suddenly got back into marvel even thought im team dc and turns out I reeeeaaally have a thing for billionaire playboys (looking at you, bruce wayne)

your marriage with tony stark was fun. of course it was, it's tony effing stark. but you can't deny that on some nights, when he's busy devoting his entire being to his work (which, you respect highly), you're bored.

you've been invited to a gala—nothing too crazy, the usual guests, fake smiles and business deals hidden under backhanded compliments. you still had some time before you had to get ready, and you decided to be a nice wife and make some dinner for your hardworking husband!

you didn't know what he'd want to eat though... bummer.

gliding down the stairs, you took a quickly glance around his workshop through the glass and saw him working his technological magic on some hologram touch screen.

entering the pin code instantly like muscle memory, you entered.

"there she is," he began and you smiled. "tony, sweetie," you walked up to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "i got invited to a gala this evening—" "yeah?" he said under his breath. "—and I thought I'd make you dinner before going." he smirked without looking up, "how thoughtful."

your hand snaked under his jaw, making him look at you while pressing your fingers against his cheeks. "whatcha wanna eat, nerdy?" he chuckled at the nickname, grabbing your cheeks and pressing a bit harder to make you pout. "I'll eat anything you make me, miss."

you let go of him and he mirrored you, starting to turn back to get back to work but you grabbed his shoulder again, stopping him. "tony, you work day and night, don't you wanna rest a bit?" and just as you said that, a devilish idea popped in your mind like a lightbulb.

"baby, you know I don't have time to-" and you kissed him, uninterested in his excuses to keep overworking himself. your lips smashed together and it was deep, almost animalistic, teeth occasionally clashing. you nibbled on his lower lip and he opened up, letting you initiate a french kiss. your tongue snuck inside his mouth, clashing with his.

you sat down on his lap without breaking the kiss and his hands instantly found their way to your hips, grounding them against him. leaning in, you deepened the kiss, while simultaneously grinding down on him slightly, just enough to rile him up.

finally, he pulled away, looking more disheveled than ever and you could just eat him up. "fuck..." was all he could mutter out before instantly going for your neck and your granted him access, throwing your head back to give him more room. he started kissing it slightly before sucking it directly, marking you up at his. he nibbled slightly on the marks to emphasis them which pulled a low moan out of you.

"baby–baby, wait.." you tapped the back of his head slightly and he pulled away immediately, searching your eyes for any discomfort only to be met with pure, raw lust. you ran your hand down his clothed chest, and set your hand on his growing buldge, rubbing it.

"I wanna make this about you. you work too much, tony.." you cooed, drawing out the syllables of his name. he stayed silent for a moment, before completely melting under your touch. "gosh, I don't deserve you. I really don't." and you booped his nose, "of course you do."

you quickly pulled his cock out of his pants, stroking it slowly while keeping direct eye contact with the man and he's positive he's about to die.

your soft, warm hand glided up and down his length, the movement swift thanks to the amount of pre he was letting ooze out. "oh, yeah, that's the stuff." his hand snaked in your hair to ground himself, grabbing without pulling. his abs clenched and his thighs kept shifting beneath you, his breath hitching.

you kept an even pace, biting your lip as if to conceal the nasty words that were aching to fly out of your mouth, in vain. "look at you, tony.." you began and he's already weak. "you work, and work, and work..." you rubbed his tip with your thumb lightly and he threw his head back, a loud groan echoing out of him. "it's like you never relax, honey." you give his exposed neck a quick peck, "let me take care of you, tony."

"fuck–yeah, you do that." he huffed out, making you giggle slightly. just when it started to get really good, you unwrapped your hand and got off his lap, alerting him. he picked his head back up to look at you, confusion and frustration filling his eyes. but then, and he's thanking the heavens for it, you start to lower yourself, now looking up at him while on your knees before him.

you grabbed his base and he shivered, closing his eyes—he was bracing himself. you scooted a bit closer, kissing his tip and his hips twitched. another loud groan that came straight from his chest. "I really think I'm gonna marry you, sweetheart." he affirms and you laugh, his balls tightening at the sound. "tony, baby," you ran your tongue up his dick, "we're already married." and his cock twitched at that, before finally being welcomed by the warmth of your mouth.

you lower your head down his length, nose bumping against his pelvis. finally, he let's out a moan, and you perk up at the sound. "shit– shitshitshit-" when you start bobbing your head up and down, it's game over for the poor man.

you've done this hundreds of times to him, but everytime you do, it feels like the first time. your tongue swirled around him like a cobra fetching its prey. you hollowed your cheeks with expertise, constricting the wet walls of your throat around his head. that made him set his hand in your hair again.

he didn't control the pace, his head just followed the movement on your hand, his other one running through his own hair.

his moans started going crescendo, getting louder and louder than the last. closing your eyes, you went for his balls, massaging them softly which has him hissing. "shit, honey, if you keep doing that I might- ill– I'm about to—" and that's about the only warning you get before you feel hot ropes of cum jump down your throat. you pulled away slowly to feel his release on your tongue, aching for the taste of it.

you got off him with a pop! sound, sticking your tongue out as he grabbed your cheeks to inspect your mouth. "good girl, swallowed it all." he heaved out, making a cheeky smile appear on your face.

you got up, rubbing your lips to get the leftover saliva off of them. "I'm gonna go make dinner, okay?" and he didn't even have the strength to reply, his chest going up and down intensely—he was still getting over his orgasm.

he was definitely going to let you help him relax more often.

[noonecareslol]

I NEED Thunderbolts to stream rn before I go insane

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 11

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you’re not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You look out the arched windows of the stone house. The dulcet air of this strange planet wafts through, rippling over the pink waters of the pool before the columns of the immense structure. Mosaic tile trims the edge and lanterns glow with eerie blue flame. The sky maintains it tapestry of lavender, blush, and azure. 

“Well, darling, I would suggest a soak. It will ease you.” Loki suggests as he appears beside you. 

He wears a robe of green with golden edging. It hangs open around his chest, a pair of silky green pants to match. Where you are tense and unsettled, he is entirely at ease. You look back to the calm waters, the smell of rose petals tickles your nose. 

“Maybe,” you hum. 

He snakes his arm around you. “Immaculate.” 

“Very pretty,” you agree. “Doesn’t anyone live here? 

“Not in eons, but the fruits of civilization remain. The architecture and all... a bit overgrown in some places.” His fingers rub your arm. “But I did not speak of the scenery.” 

You narrow your eyes and tilt your head to look up at him. “Stop.” 

“Stop?” He arches his brows curiously. 

“Toying with me. You’ve told me how many times you’re a trickster.” 

“You think I lie? Perhaps how we came together was not the most... romantic, but I am very earnest in my intentions. I’ve made a commitment. Despite the tales that surround me, I am not entirely repugnant.” 

“You don’t even like earth.” You say. 

“Very true, but my brother is there and my people.” He’s quiet for a moment as he looks out through the window. “And you.” 

“You barely know me.” 

“I can surmise a few things of your character. You faced me and told me what you knew would upset me but you did not back down. You’ve integrity. You work hard for that slime of a midgardian, which means you are reliable and fastidious. And... hm, well, feminine wiles and all.” 

You nod, measuring his words. That he hasn’t insulted you once does not help your paranoia. 

“And I am mortal so you will outlive me and be free eventually. I am a means to an end.” 

“I won’t deny there is purpose in this union but it is not without benefits. For both of us, you shall see.” He argues. 

“Loki,” you sigh and press your palms to your cheeks. “I can’t stay here. I have a job.” 

“You should resign. Stark does not appreciate you.” 

“I can’t just quit. I have to pay rent.” You cross your arms. “For both of us now.” 

“That isn’t very true. I have my own living space and I can afford it easily. You are my wife so it is better that you do not trouble yourself with the labour of another man.” 

“It keeps me busy.” You shrug. 

“I will keep you busy as any husband should.” his hand slips down and he gropes your ass. 

You spin away from his embrace and face him, “do you not think about anything else?” 

“You make it difficult,” he snickers. “Wife, we are yet in our blissful early days and I really cannot stop thinking of having you out in the pool.” 

“Oh, wow,” you twitch. Your body thrums at his inference even as your anger flashes. “Alright, well, did you ever consider in all your research that marriage is more than... that?” 

“Certainly, it is more but we do come together wonderfully, don’t we?”

You heave again and shake your head. He grabs your hips and pulls you to him. You put your hands on his chest.

"Only because you don't let me think."

"What's there to think of? No going back, is there?"

"You said your first marriage was annulled."

"That was my third."

"Third? This is?" You eke out.

"Hmmm," he narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "Certainly the most successful. I promise."

"Oh god," you mutter and push on him. "Just... let me go."

"You should try the waters," he clings to you. "They are soothing."

"Uh huh," you wriggle free at last. "Maybe not a bad idea. Alone."

"Mmm," he hums in disappointment. "You are so stubborn it consumes me."

"Stubborn? I'm..." you look out the window. "Lost."

He laughs, "oh, yes. Well, we will settle into each other, as couples do."

You cringe and step away from him. You emerge into the gentle breeze and near the edge of the pool. You steel yourself but he does not appear. You glance back as he remains in the window.

You get down to your knees and dip your hand into the water. You flinch in surprise. You expect them to be cool but they are warm. The perfect temperature. This place is unbelievable. As in no one will believe this story. Just like Mr. Stark didn't believe that you didn't sign that contract.

Ugh, it's all a mess. Well, you'll wait until you're back on your home planet to sort that out.

You raise yourself on your knees and strip off the green robe. You lower yourself onto your bottom and drape your legs into the water. You inch yourself over the edge and slip into the depths cautiously. It's thicker than water. As soothing as Loki said. You wade through and sit on the marble bench beneath the surface. You lean against the stone and lean your head back.

You hate how often he's been right. Shouldn't he be lying to you? Well, he has lied about the most important things, hasn't he? This is all so strange.

The water stirs and you open your eyes. Loki sits across from you, stretching his long arms over the lip of the pool. His chest rises and falls. he watches you.

"It is nice, yes?" He asks. You nod and purse your lips.

"I will control myself as best I can." He says. "So, let us be as husband and wife, and know each other." He stares at you. "Tell me what do you enjoy most? Besides me?"

You glower and it only feeds into his smirk. You take a breath. You don't think you're getting out of this so you guess you'll go along.

"I enjoy reading. Alone." You say. "I like puzzles. Also alone."

He scoffs, "oh, darling. You can retire that word; alone. I'm afraid you're very stuck with me."

You suppress another sigh. Oh, you know it. It doesn't make it any easier to accept.

[shushsuhshuh]

MY TYPEEEEEEE 🤪🫶🏻

[slasherslittlesimp]

Cursed (Avengers X Reader)

Series Masterlist

Part Five

You sit in the lab on a table as your eyes flicker between armor man and nervous man- whose names you were told are Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. The two men stand on the other side of the room as they quietly discuss how to go about removing your muzzle without causing you any harm. You're quite glad that the files apparently mentioned what happens when you try to carelessly remove the device. It saves you unnecessary pain as the two know what not to do.

It feels like hours pass by before the two finally turn towards you. Tony strides off to the other side of the room while Bruce moves a bit closer to you while still keeping a good amount of distance. "We're going to do some scans on the mask to see what components it's made of. Hopefully then we can figure out how to remove it." Bruce rubs his hands together as he gives you a tight smile that looks more like a grimace.

You nod in understanding before turning your attention towards Tony who comes towards you with a device in hand. He moves to stand directly in front of you- roughly a foot away- as he lifts the device to your face. A strange blue light emits from it as it scans over the mask resting over the lower portion of your face. It does this for a few moments before stopping, a screen nearby beeping as it pulls up the information gathered.

Tony and Bruce both move to examine the results, once again quietly discussing things with each other. You pull your gaze from them since you have no clue what they're talking about and instead focus on your still bare feet. They had offered you shoes but you had shaken your head, denying the offer. After so many years without wearing anything on your feet you've grown used to it. The idea of stuffing them into such restricting things seems unpleasant.

All you really want is to get your muzzle off so you can finally shower. Hydra was quite stingy with letting you cleanse yourself, only allowing it if you had been particularly well behaved that week. Any time you failed a task, training, or even started to show signs of remembering anything, they'd take away your shower privileges. It's been a few weeks since you last stood under the cold stream of water and washed away the dirt that seems to always stain your skin. You've grown used to the way you smell but certainly you smell horrendous to the people around you even if they haven't mentioned it.

You also want a nice hot meal. When you were fed, it was often small meals that were enough to keep you alive and to keep you from growing too weak but they were always cold or bland. Applesauce, plain jelly sandwiches, slices of thin cut ham, and water. That was all you were ever really fed. At this point, you're curious if your body will even be able to handle other food or if it will simply reject it. Maybe you should start with something light and work your way up to fuller meals. Not like you really know what options there even are out there.

The longer you sit there on the table lost in thought, the more pathetic you feel. You know you were with Hydra your entire life- it's all you can remember. What you can't remember is if it's always been like that. Small meals, scrappy clothes, rare showers. You know it's at least been like that for a few years now but what about in the beginning? Were you treated better? Worse? Not knowing the answers makes you uncomfortable, especially since the two strangers in the room seem to know more about you than you do.

You want to ask to see your files but you also are terrified at what you might remember as you read through them. Natasha had stated that there were multiple pages worth of files on you- on... what was the name? (Y/N)? You believe that's what she had said. It's a bit hard to think of it when so many different thoughts have been racing through your mind lately. Perhaps you should just ask for simple answers like your name and age. Start slow with it and then progressively try to remember more on your own.

"Ready Hannibal?" Tony's voice forcefully drags you from your thoughts as he suddenly stands in front of you. You had zoned out so much that you failed to realize the two of them had finished with whatever they were doing and that Tony moved back to his previous position of standing just a foot away from you. He holds up another small device, this one a bit smaller than the other one. "This is kinda like a jammer. We're hoping it'll block the signals in your mask which will make it unlock and pop off."

You sit up a bit straighter, feeling a bit nervous. It's been a long time since anyone has seen you without the mask and the last person who had was a target you needed to interrogate and kill. This will be the first time someone is seeing it in a long time without you having the intention to cause them harm. The last time was when the markings first appeared. Since then, you've only been allowed to remove it when alone or with someone you've been ordered to use your ability against.

"Alright, let's see that pretty smile." Tony flashes his own smile as he pushes a button on the jammer. You squeeze your eyes shut, half convinced that something with go wrong and you'll end up being painfully shocked. After a few silent seconds there's the sound of a mechanical click before the mask falls from your face and clatters onto the ground. Tony and Bruce both let out sighs of relief, glad their plan worked.

You keep your face angled towards the ground as you bring your fingers up to brush against the markings. You can't physically feel them but you know they're there, same with the one on your tongue. Neither you nor Hydra knew why the markings appeared along with the ability but you're almost certain that if the markings go away then so will your Cursed Speech.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce questions, watching you as you stare at the ground.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your courage before lifting your head so the two men can fully see your face. You give them a shaky thumbs up, not quite sure how else to let them know you're fine. They don't really seem to pay much attention to that though as their eyes instantly zero in on the circles and lines coming off both sides of your mouth.

Tony subconsciously reaches forward, his hand moving towards your face. You naturally flinch despite the fact that he wasn't moving very fast. He pauses when he sees this, realizing what he was doing. He clears his throat as he drops his hand to his side and continues to simply look at the markings instead.

"Now that the mask is off, why don't we let someone show you to a room where you can shower and rest?" Bruce cuts in, noticing how awkward things have gotten. You nod in agreement, sliding off of the table and side-stepping around Tony. Bruce informs the AI to send down one of the others as he leads you to the door.

Taglist: @desiree-lee @seventeen-x @svtbpbts @that-b-word-lol @keshet2k @cl0u-dy @randoes-world @nynxtea @cinnamoroll-things @emily2003azalga

[voxslays]

[charlie-shmarlie]

When he protects you: Loki Laufeyson headcanons

The god of mischief protecting you from a group of creeps

Warnings: icky creepy dudes, Loki being protective 🛐

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱〥▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰

Loki is (quietly) very protective over you. He knows you can handle yourself, but he still can't help but worry from time to time. Whether you notice it or not, he's always got an eye on you. So naturally, when he catches wind that you're being confronted by a group of suspicious men in a shady part of the city, he's there in an instant.

Shows up in full armor for pure intimidation factor, and a grin that's way too pleasant for the spiraling fury and ill intent cooking up inside him.

Pretends that he just happened to stumble upon the whole situation, which is an obvious lie.

PROTECTIVE HAND ON YOUR WAIST. PROTECTIVE HAND ON YOUR WAIST. PROTECTIVE HAND ON YOUR WAIST.

He will try to remove you from the situation as quickly and smoothly as possible but will NOT hold back if the creeps persist in any way.

Oh, they looked at you wrong? Dead. They made a nasty comment? Dead. They dared to challenge him?? Deady dead.

That man has powers beyond the perverts' comprehension, and he won't hesitate to use them whatsoever.

Remember that one scene in the 1893 episode of the Loki series where the dude knocked off his hat and he poofed him away in a puff of green smoke right on the spot? Yeah, it'd be like that.

Except he might stab them first just for good measure idk

Definitely scolds you for going to that part of the city without him. Loki hates feeling scared, and you being in danger scares the hell out of him. He might give you the whole "what were you thinking??" speech and be a little sharp for a while, but it's only because he was so worried about you.

But, if the whole situation has you shaken up, he'll soften. His pride doesn't allow him to admit it often, but you're his weakness, and seeing you frightened and upset makes him cave without question.

Takes you into his arms and holds you close against his chest, keeping a secure hand on your back and in your hair, softly mumbling against your locks.

"It's alright now, I've got you...I would never let anyone lay a hand on you.."

He'll likely take you straight back home after all of that, tightly holding your hand and paying extra attention to all of your surroundings.

It's subtle, but if you pay close attention, you'll notice Loki staying a bit closer to your side for the rest of the day. Not in a clingy way, he won't smother you, but he might follow you to the next room, keep a hand at your waist, or just let his eyes follow you around more often.

If you plan on going anywhere else, he'll go with you. Just in case..

Hates it when you point out that he's being overprotective. How dare you rightfully accuse him.

[k1tk4ttt]

when you just finished one of the most beautiful fics ever written and you see that the author has a masterlist full of other fics

[mischiefmaker615]

Like You Mean It (Loki Love Story) Ch.3

Summary: You accidently teleport into a book- not knowing it's smut and come face to face with Loki who is very much convinced on keeping you from returning home

Rated: R *dark warning*(DARK ELEMENTS!)

Theme Song/Inspiration: "Like You Mean It" by Steven Rodriguez

Your eyes began to grow wider and wider as the itching became more and more there. Everywhere. At least- everywhere where you had exposed skin. Your hands removed themselves from the towel quickly and began to roam all over yourself, raking down your nails in attempts for relief that had Loki take a step back by your quick action.

His eyes roamed, a sly smile coming to his lips where he used a finger to tap his chin calmly. ‘’I do rather enjoy watching you touch yourself.’’

Your eyes glared, ignoring the whole state of emotion for that particular comment to look up at him pleadingly. ‘’are you going to help?”

‘’why certainly-‘’ he eagerly took a step forward while you quickly took a step back, changing your mind and moved around him so you wouldn’t back up into the vines.

‘’I meant maybe to the healers-‘’ you said with panting breaths, bending down to pay attention to your legs while you bit your bottom lip. ‘’and maybe some clothes-‘’

‘’alright darling, start with this.’’ He said gently, his expression now serious while he unhooked his cape from his shoulders and swiftly moved it around you, your hands taking hold of it to cover yourself like it was a blanket.

‘’..thank you but- couldn’t you just conjure a-‘’

‘’although small bits of magic will be no problem for me to help you out in such a state, I’m afraid this will be a perfect opportunity to learn from our actions, hmm?” he asked a little to sweetly and you looked up at him in shock.

Okay.. so you have an asshole Loki in this one..

With a short, frustrated exhale through your nostrils, you continued itching with one hand while the other kept the cape around you. ‘’f-fine- lead the way..’’ you mumbled, watching how his eyes hardly left your body while he moved to walk beside you.

As you both made your way down the halls, you finally saw a few of the palace staff. Maids scurried about while guards were posted by every door, bowing immediately whenever you both would pass- obvious for Loki whom paid no attention while he continued to follow your wandering hand with his eyes.

You felt self-conscious but the continuous itching made it impossible to really care while you quickened your steps, grumbling when Loki made no attempts to follow you as if he were taking a relaxing, afternoon stroll. Huffing, you slowed down to walk back beside him and prayed the healing room was close.

‘’would you like to tell me why you had the sudden need to slip out a window?” Loki asked calmly, watching how you suffered as long as you could to not touch yourself for his awaiting eyes before now and again you would give in.

It was easier not to look at him but nevertheless you felt your cheeks burning. ‘’the door was locked.’’

‘’locked or not, you were fully planning on waltzing around unclothed?’’ his eyes moved up to look at your side profile.

‘’why was the door locked?” you asked, now fully curious on that strange little detail Loki seemed to sweep under the rug.

‘’no other eyes are to look upon your naked form, not even hints of it.’’ His sharper tone made you look back at him, seeing how he looked at you with intensity and seriousness while the corner of your vision also caught a glimpse of what your ‘naked form’ was doing to him.

He was large.. literally the spitting image of a god in every way that had that sensation return back between your legs. What was he doing to you.. Though his temper was never something you really wanted to see get unleashed and you would often water down your sarcasm. Right now he seemed deadly serious, possessive even with his warning to not let others see you. Were you two.. together? This seemed like some stereotypical boyfriend shit.

‘’okay..’’ you answered quietly, hoping that be enough for him to drop things so you could just get rid of this damn itching that was starting to leave an obvious rash. On top of it all, you hated yourself for letting your tongue slip again. ‘’..why didn’t you leave me with any clothes?”

‘’you weren’t suppose to leave the room.’’ He said carefully, having looked ahead now with an unreadable expression and an irritated hint in his voice.

‘’-what? Am I some prisoner or something..’’ you rather spoke out loud, not giving your mind much of a chance to really guess the storyline or what things might be taking place so you were startled a bit at the look Loki gave you.

He stared at you silently, having stopped walking and making you stop to while you faced him. his brows furrowed, reaching out and placed a slender hand against your forehead, feeling your temperature. ‘’hmm..’’ was all he said before his hand dropped down to take yours before his pace resumed, much quicker to where you almost needed to trot behind him.

‘’perhaps we should do a full assessment as well..’’ he spoke out loud and you bit your lip from saying anything else.

Locked in a room where you were apparently left with no clothes, and supposing to not leave. What.. where you suppose to be some sort of- you gulped and pushed down any thoughts on the worst options possible. He’s been nothing but nice so far, in a Loki kind of way so there should be nothing to fear of it being anything opposite.. right now you just cared about the itching going away.

Loki opened the doors himself with one hand slamming into the middle and making them swing in rather than wait for the guards- who fumbled to bow and move quick enough. Still practically dragging you by the hand, Loki stopped short in front of three of the healers who stood about chatting and they quickly fell into a bow.

‘’she is in need of some assistance, itching and possible suspicious mind activity. I will need her to be taken care of at once.’’ Loki told them firmly, no real emotion in his voice other than a pure order where he pulled you in front of him before he gently pushed you forward.

‘’suspicious mind act- what??” you gasped while the healers stepped towards you.

‘’yes, prince Loki.’’ You were guessing the head healer spoke before Loki gave a nod and moved himself outside the room with the doors closing behind them on their own.

Magic, you assumed.

The good thing about being in similar books was that every single one of them were almost super similar. Which made it easier to know what to do by laying on your back on the table while they stood around and pressed a few buttons at a contraption above you. You were suddenly encased in light, the temperature warm and it reminded you much like a tanning salon where your eyes fell closed and waited for them to finish.

You thought about how easy it might be to just fake memory issues if the screen hadn’t shown that you were perfectly normal. Its not like you could just casually ask who you were and what were you doing here without getting some weird looks, gossip and possibly something inconvenient happening to you.

At least the itching had stopped by now and your body instantly let out a sigh of relief.

Opening your eyes when you heard footsteps, you looked over to see one of the healers open the doors and bow, side stepping to let Loki practically glide in without a second glance at her. ‘’my prince-‘’ was all she managed out.

By Loki rushing over, you quickly sat up, looking fully prepared to run away if the concerned look on his face didn’t ease you from the non-existent danger. ‘’did you find anything?” Loki asked, his hands gripping the edge of the table beside you and you resisted the urge to scoot away encase he would break it.

At the same time, the way how he intensely looked at the healer for answers showed you truly how much he must care about you. In your own sort of way- whether you knew this Loki or not, your love still remained for Loki himself.. in every single story you’ve been in. your whole emotional wave in that moment had you place your hand gently on top of his, pulling his gaze towards you in wide eyed moment before, just as quickly, returning to his familiar, gentle gaze of nothing but love and care.

‘’we have stopped the itching and we found no particular activity involving her memory.’’ The healer explained and you found it weird to be spoken about when you are right there.

Come to think of it.. with a few motions to indicate what to do, no one has really tried to talk to you..

‘’that’s.. fine..’’ Loki said quietly, his brows furrowed in confusion a bit before he shook his head and gripped your hand more, helping you off the table while your other hand clutched the cape around you.

‘’I feel completely fine now-‘’ you offered, hoping to at least remind people your voice existed while Loki placed a hand on your cheek with a brief smile before looking at the healers once more.

‘’thank you.’’ He said before he pulled you by the hand for you to follow him out.

Once you both heard the doors close behind you while you made your way down the halls, Loki’s pace slowed a little bit to accommodate yours while his grip on your hand lessened ever so slightly. With a slight moment of silence and the growing strange feeling like you were in some sort of trouble- like a parent taking their kid home to deliver some sort of punishment, you glanced up to Loki with a deep breath.

‘’..i don’t’ have the best memory I suppose-‘’ you started, not truly a lie but perhaps it will make it less suspicious than explaining how you just phased into this literally universe and see if anyone would believe you.

‘’perhaps I was just to rough with you.’’ Loki sighed, his voice gentle like he was taking all of the blame in that moment but your body nearly tensed at what he just said.

Your mouth opened, trying to find the words for the statement that was totally off topic to what you thought all this might be. ‘’t-to..rough?’’ you squeaked out and it made him chuckle, taking a glance at you while you felt his hand squeeze yours.

‘’if one isn’t used to such things, it could cause some mind damage in a way. we’ll just have a take things slower and I shall help you with your memory until I’ve gotten you back to your regular healthy state.’’

He spoke like he was doing you a casual favor.. and you prayed to the gods you just had a dirty mind and that he wasn’t talking about what you thought he was talking about. Yet it would seem he was not at all ready to let go of your hand and you felt his pace quicken ever so slightly when you recognized you were getting closer to the room. ‘’so.. why can’t I leave the bedroom again?”

Loki gave you another gentle look, one of patience while he sighed and stopped you both at the door, your eyes quickly glancing at the guards who bowed and opened the doors before you yet something in your body screamed ‘no’. Loki’s grip on your hand left little choice and you looked up at his face that seemed to have changed from gentle to.. something else..

Something much darker..

‘’because you are my property.’’

Tag List: @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @eleniblue @jaidenhawke @amfilth @dunklersteinengel @blitzy93 @mischeveousscamp @blaze-the-idiot @mari-800 @horrormovielover00 @imaginetheskies @angelofthorr @mencantaleer @kathren1sky-blog @tinytroublemaker-blog-blog @mona-has-dreams @soulpiercing @fire-in-her-veinz

[amethystarachnid]

Hey!

Could you maybe do Loki dating a surgeon or sorts (Like general surgeon maybe and the reader is from Earth obv) and he visits to find her very busy with patients constantly piling up?

BURNOUT AND STARLIGHT

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.7k

ᯓ★ Summary: You’re a trauma surgeon devoted to saving lives...until the cost nearly becomes your own. Loki, your lover from Asgard, watches your struggle from afar, stepping in to comfort you when the weight becomes unbearable. Between Earth and stars, you begin to realize you can’t heal others if you forget to heal yourself.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nedical trauma and death (including loss of a young patient), Burnout, emotional exhaustion, and grief, Mentions of dissociation and crying

ᯓ★ I really hope I understood your request and I hope that you like it <3

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The hospital never sleeps.

The fluorescent lights hum overhead as you move quickly through the corridors, clipboard in hand, sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor. It's late—maybe three, maybe four in the morning—and the Emergency Department is thrumming with a low, relentless energy that feels more like a battlefront than a place of healing. You’ve been here for what, sixteen hours now? Eighteen? It hardly matters. Time blurs when you’re this deep into the work, when every second feels like it belongs to someone else's life and not your own.

Your pager buzzes at your hip, sharp and insistent. Another incoming trauma. You sigh under your breath, shifting the clipboard to your other arm and pushing through the heavy doors back into the main ED. You barely feel the exhaustion anymore. It's been beaten into you, carved into your bones like the steady ache you carry in your back and shoulders.

You love this work. You do. It's what you were meant to do.

But lately, it feels like something's missing.

You don’t let yourself dwell on it. You’re too good at compartmentalizing. It’s a skill you’ve honed out of necessity—the same skill that keeps you from breaking when you're elbow-deep in a gunshot wound or barking orders over the roar of a code blue. You don't let yourself feel too much. Not while you're here.

Still, there’s a hollow ache in your chest that no amount of caffeine or adrenaline can seem to fill.

You shove open the bay doors and step into the chaos.

Paramedics are wheeling in a man, his shirt soaked with blood, his face pale and drawn. You snap into action immediately, rattling off instructions, feeling the familiar click of your mind slipping into gear. It's automatic, clinical. Hands steady, voice firm.

This is who you are. This is what you do.

But somewhere, buried under the sterile smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic beeping of monitors, you feel the frayed edges of something tender and aching inside you.

You think of him.

You think of Loki.

You don’t even realize you’ve whispered his name under your breath until a nurse glances at you, puzzled. You clear your throat and refocus, pushing the thought aside. He’s not here. He’s never here when you need him most.

Because he lives in another world. Literally.

You knew it when you started dating him—that loving him meant accepting that he didn’t belong to this one. He had a throne, a destiny, a home that wasn’t Earth. And you had yours: a hospital badge clipped to your scrub pocket and a life that demanded every scrap of your energy.

Still, you can't help but wonder sometimes what it would be like if things were different.

If he could stay.

If you could leave.

The patient crashes briefly on the table, and you don’t have time to wonder anymore. You lose yourself in the desperate, beautiful work of keeping him alive.

Hours pass. Maybe a day. It's hard to tell.

Eventually, you're leaning against the nurses' station, scribbling notes on a chart, when a strange shimmer in the air makes you pause. You blink, thinking maybe it's just the exhaustion playing tricks on you.

But then the shimmer coalesces into something solid, something real.

Someone.

Your breath catches.

He stands there, just beyond the edge of the nurses' station, clad in dark leathers and emerald-green, his black hair falling messily across his forehead. His presence feels like a crack in the fabric of reality, like the world has bent around him just to make space.

Loki.

Your heart stutters, a painful, startled thing against your ribs. For a moment, you can't move, can't breathe. You just stare at him, taking in the impossible sight of him here, now, in your world.

He smiles, slow and devastating.

"Hello, darling," he says, his voice a low purr that sends shivers down your spine.

You realize suddenly that you're still holding the chart, your pen frozen in midair. You slam it down on the counter and rush around to him, nearly colliding with a passing orderly.

"Loki," you hiss under your breath, grabbing his arm and tugging him into a nearby empty room. You shut the door behind you and spin to face him, heart hammering.

"You can't just—" you start, but the words die in your throat as he steps closer.

"I had to see you," he murmurs, brushing a stray hair from your forehead. His touch is gentle, reverent, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he looks away too long.

Your anger fizzles out before it even properly ignites. All you can feel is the aching swell of longing that rises up to drown you.

"You shouldn't be here," you say, voice shaking. "I’m working."

"I know." His thumb grazes your cheekbone. "I can see that. You look... exhausted."

You laugh, a short, brittle sound. "Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you don't sleep for two days."

His brow furrows in concern, and for a moment, you think he might actually whisk you away somewhere—somewhere safe, somewhere quiet, where the world can’t touch you. You can almost feel the magic curling around him, an instinctive, protective thing.

You step back, putting distance between you before you can do something stupid, like ask him to take you with him.

"You can't stay," you say, forcing the words out.

He nods, but there’s something stubborn in the set of his jaw. "Then come with me."

You blink at him. "Loki—"

"Just for a little while," he says, stepping closer again. "An hour. A day. Whatever you can spare."

You hesitate. God, you want to. You want to throw your pager in a drawer and vanish into the void with him, if only for a little while. But reality claws at you, sharp and unrelenting.

"I can't," you whisper. "I have patients. I have responsibilities."

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if pained by the words. When he opens them again, they're filled with something raw and desperate.

"I miss you," he says simply.

You swallow hard, fighting back the sudden rush of tears. "I miss you too."

The silence stretches between you, heavy with everything you can't say.

He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out a small, gleaming object. It looks almost like a pocket watch, but the surface shimmers with magic. He presses it into your hand.

"If you ever need me," he says, his voice low and serious, "use this. No matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing—I’ll come."

You stare down at it, your fingers closing around the cool, intricate metal.

"Loki..." you breathe, overwhelmed.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

Then he steps back, the air around him shimmering again, the edges of his form already starting to blur.

"I'll see you soon, my love," he promises.

And then he's gone.

You stand there for a long time, staring at the empty space where he was, the magical device still clutched tightly in your hand.

Outside the door, the hospital marches on—urgent, noisy, unrelenting.

You take a deep breath, pocket the device, and step back into the chaos.

Because this is your life.

For now.

---

You make it through the next few hours on autopilot.

Consults, stitches, assessments. Paperwork that never ends. Your mind drifts constantly to the weight in your pocket, the small device pressing against the fabric of your scrubs like a secret. You could call him. You could have him here, just for a moment, just long enough to breathe.

But you don't. You wait. You endure.

You tell yourself it’s what you’re supposed to do. You tell yourself you're stronger than this gnawing ache inside you.

And then the trauma pager goes off again.

Code crimson. Incoming pediatric trauma.

Your stomach twists even before you hear the rest.

You’re already waiting at the trauma bay when they wheel her in—tiny, fragile, broken. A car accident, they say. She wasn’t even wearing a seatbelt. A mess of blood and broken bones and too many injuries for one small body to bear.

You move on instinct. Gloves snapped on, orders flying from your mouth before you’ve even thought them through. You hear yourself speaking, hear the team moving around you, but it all feels distant. Like you’re underwater.

They rush her to the OR. You’re right there, scrubbed in, heart pounding.

You fight.

God, you fight.

For hours, you battle for her life, hands slick with blood, eyes burning with the intensity of it. You’re careful, methodical, brilliant. You give everything you have.

And it’s not enough.

The monitors flatline.

You bark orders to start compressions, your voice hoarse with desperation. You shock her. You pump her heart manually with your hands. You do everything you know how to do, and when the attending finally calls it—time of death, 4:12 AM—you stand frozen over her tiny, broken body.

The room is silent except for the whir of machines still running out of habit.

You strip off your gloves and gown mechanically, tossing them into the bin. You wash your hands because you have to, but they don’t feel clean. You stare at your reflection in the mirror above the sink—pale, hollow-eyed, blood smeared along your jawline where you must have wiped your face without thinking.

You don't feel like yourself anymore.

You barely make it out of the hospital. You clock out, numbly. You fumble with your car keys. You drive home with your hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turn white.

The second the front door clicks shut behind you, the weight of it all crashes down.

You lean against the door, sliding down to the floor, burying your face in your hands. The sobs tear out of you without warning, violent and raw. You can't stop them. You can't breathe around them.

You tried. You tried so fucking hard.

And it wasn't enough.

You fumble in your scrub pocket and pull out the device Loki gave you, your fingers trembling. You don’t even think—you just press it, hard, as if willing him to appear.

For a second, nothing happens.

And then the air shimmers.

Loki materializes in the middle of your living room, his cloak swirling around him, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. One look at you, crumpled and broken on the floor, and all the mischief, all the arrogance drains from his face.

"Darling," he breathes, rushing to you.

You don't have the strength to move. You just look up at him, tears streaming down your face, and he drops to his knees beside you without hesitation. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest with a tenderness that shatters whatever's left of your composure.

You clutch at him desperately, fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic, as if you can anchor yourself to him and stop the world from spinning.

"I lost her," you whisper brokenly into his shoulder. "I tried—I did everything—I couldn’t save her—"

Loki rocks you gently, his hand stroking up and down your back, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear. "I'm here. I'm here, my love. You are not alone."

You don't know how long you stay like that, wrapped in his arms, crying until there’s nothing left but a hollow ache where your heart used to be.

Eventually, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, cradling you as if you weigh nothing at all. His magic flares softly, flicking the bathroom lights on ahead of him as he carries you through the apartment.

"You need to rest," he says quietly. "You need care."

You don’t argue. You can’t.

You let him strip the bloodstained scrubs from your body, his movements gentle and reverent, never crossing any boundary you don't offer him. You stand there, shivering, dazed, as he runs a bath, the water steaming and fragrant with something calming—something Asgardian, probably.

When he leads you into the water, you sink down gratefully, the heat seeping into your aching muscles, the scent filling your lungs with something other than grief.

Loki kneels beside the tub, rolling up his sleeves. He dips a cloth into the water and begins to wash you with slow, careful strokes, as if you’re made of glass and he’s terrified of breaking you further.

He doesn't speak. He just stays with you, grounding you with the steady rhythm of his hands, the silent comfort of his presence.

When your skin is clean and your tears have dried, he wraps you in a thick, warm towel and lifts you again, carrying you to the bedroom.

He dresses you in one of his soft shirts—it falls to your mid-thigh and smells like him—and then tucks you gently into bed. He slides in beside you, gathering you against him, his body a protective wall of warmth and strength.

You press your face into his chest, breathing in the scent of him—leather, magic, something uniquely Loki—and feel some small, broken part of yourself start to stitch back together.

His hand strokes through your hair in slow, hypnotic patterns.

"You are not a god," he murmurs against your temple. "You are mortal, and you are magnificent. You gave her a fighting chance, and that is more than most could ever hope to do."

You close your eyes, letting the words sink into the hollow spaces inside you.

You don't feel better.

Not yet.

But wrapped in Loki's arms, you feel something else.

Safe.

Loved.

Slowly, finally, exhaustion pulls you under. Your breathing evens out, your body growing heavy and warm.

Loki stays awake long after you've fallen asleep, watching over you with a fierce, unyielding devotion.

Because if he could, he would tear the stars down from the sky to ease your pain.

Because he is yours.

And you are his.

Always.

---

The morning comes slow and golden.

You drift up from sleep wrapped in warmth, cocooned by soft sheets and the steady rise and fall of Loki’s chest against your cheek. His arms are still around you, holding you close like he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go. You breathe him in—the faintest scent of him lingering on your skin—and for a long, precious moment, you don't move.

You let yourself pretend.

Pretend this is normal. That he’s here, that you belong like this.

Eventually, you stir, your body aching but lighter somehow. Loki’s arms tighten instinctively around you, his nose nuzzling into your hair, a low, contented sound humming in his chest.

"Good morning, darling," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

You tilt your head back to look at him. His hair is tousled, his features soft in the morning light, without any of the usual sharp edges he wears like armor. He's beautiful like this—unguarded, yours.

You reach up and touch his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the curve of his jaw. He turns his head and presses a kiss into your palm, slow and deliberate, and something inside you melts.

"Good morning," you whisper back, your throat raw but a little less broken.

He smiles—a real one, rare and radiant—and leans down to kiss you properly. His lips are warm and soft against yours, gentle at first, then deepening as his hand slides into your hair. He kisses you like he’s savoring you, like he has all the time in the world to learn every shape and sigh of your mouth.

When he finally pulls back, you're breathless and dizzy and a little drunk on him.

"Stay here," he says, a mischievous glint sparking to life in his eyes. "Rest. I’ll make you breakfast."

You blink at him. "You know how to cook?"

He sits up, looking insulted. "I am a prince of Asgard. I can perform complex illusions, wield ancient magics, and command armies. I think I can manage scrambled eggs."

You laugh, a soft, cracked sound that still feels foreign after everything, but it’s real. He smiles like he’s won some secret prize and presses one last kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed.

You watch him go, shamelessly admiring the way his bare back flexes under the soft light, before you burrow deeper into the covers.

You hear cabinets opening, something clattering, a muffled curse in what you assume is Old Norse. You can't help but smile.

You drift in and out of sleep for a little while longer, lulled by the comforting noises of him moving around your kitchen.

Eventually, the scent of something vaguely resembling food wafts into the bedroom. Loki appears in the doorway, looking absurdly proud of himself, holding a plate piled with slightly uneven, slightly burnt eggs and toast.

He sets the plate down on the nightstand and climbs back into bed, positioning himself so he can feed you a bite with a flourish, clearly very pleased with his efforts.

You chew dutifully, trying not to laugh.

"It's... edible," you tease.

He scowls dramatically. "Such ingratitude. I risked life and limb for this culinary masterpiece."

You lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth, lingering there. "Thank you," you murmur against his skin.

He softens immediately, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in for another kiss—deeper, sweeter, lingering. His tongue brushes teasingly against yours, coaxing another small laugh from your throat.

You could stay like this forever.

But reality is a cruel thing.

You pull back slowly, resting your forehead against his. "I have to go back to work this afternoon."

You feel him stiffen slightly, his arms tightening around you.

"No," he says, almost petulantly. "You need rest."

"I know," you whisper, your chest aching. "But they’re short-staffed, and I... I can’t just not show up."

He pulls back enough to look at you, his expression torn between anger and helplessness. "You give them everything you have," he says bitterly. "And they would take more if they could."

You don't deny it.

Because he's right.

But it’s the life you chose, the oath you took.

"Loki," you say softly, cupping his face in your hands. "This is who I am."

He closes his eyes, breathing out slowly through his nose, trying to master the storm inside him.

When he opens them again, they’re luminous with something fragile and aching.

"You are stronger than any warrior I have ever known," he says, his voice low and reverent. "But even the strongest need tending, my love."

You kiss him again, slow and lingering, pouring everything you can’t say into the touch of your lips against his. He kisses you back like he’s trying to memorize you, hands framing your face with a tenderness that breaks you all over again.

When you finally pull away, you brush your thumb over his lower lip, feeling the faint tremor in his breath.

"I'll be okay," you promise.

He doesn't believe you.

But he nods anyway.

Because he knows he can't hold you back, no matter how much he wants to.

He will be waiting.

Always.

---

The hospital is a different world during the day—louder, busier, more frantic.

You step through the sliding glass doors with your ID badge clipped to your scrub top, your hair hastily pulled back, your mind already trying to summon the strength you aren't sure you have.

You left Loki curled in your bed, tangled in the sheets that still smell like you, his eyes heavy with something too complicated to name. It had nearly broken you to slip away from him. But you couldn’t stay, no matter how much you wanted to.

Duty calls. It always does.

You push through the hours mechanically, moving from room to room, chart to chart, trying to summon the same clinical focus that usually shields you. But you're tired—bone-deep and soul-deep—and today, it shows.

You don't notice the subtle flicker of magic that trails you like a shadow.

You don't notice the way the air shimmers faintly at the edge of your vision, or the way the lights above your head seem just a little softer, kinder.

You don’t see Loki, concealed from mortal eyes, moving unseen through the crowded corridors.

He stays close—always close—his magic a silent, invisible shield between you and the world. He can't heal your grief, can't take away the ache that gnaws at you, but he can do small things. Things that might lighten your burden, even if just a little.

When your coffee nearly slips from your trembling fingers, an unseen hand steadies it.

When your chart goes missing, it appears again, neatly stacked on your station.

When the overhead lights flicker and threaten to plunge your OR into darkness mid-procedure, the generators kick in faster than they should have—Loki’s magic smoothing the systems before disaster can strike.

He watches you work, the ferocious grace of you, the way you hold yourself together with sheer willpower. Every exhausted smile you offer a patient, every steady, capable order you give a nurse, every little act of stubborn, impossible hope—he sees it all.

And it makes him ache.

He could spirit you away from this place. He could wrap you in magic and silk and shield you from every pain and sorrow.

But he won’t.

Because he knows you would never forgive him.

Because you are stronger than that.

Because this is who you are.

He leans against the far wall of the trauma bay, cloaked in illusion, watching as you tend to a boy with a broken arm, your voice gentle and patient as you explain the cast he'll need. Your hands are sure and steady, even as the exhaustion shadows your face.

He wants to gather you into his arms and never let go.

Instead, he settles for what he can do: weaving tiny spells into your path, softening the air around you, ensuring that everything that might trip you, hurt you, tire you further—fails.

You move through the day unaware of the way you’re being cared for, protected.

You think it’s luck when the supplies you need are always stocked. You think it’s coincidence when your least favorite attending gets called away to another floor right before your evaluation. You think it’s a miracle when the day seems, somehow, a little less heavy than you expected.

You don't know that it's him.

You don’t know that every step you take is watched with a devotion so fierce it could level mountains.

It’s nearly evening when you finally get a moment to breathe.

You sink into the worn leather couch in the on-call room, letting your head fall back against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut.

You don't notice the faint shimmer beside you.

Loki sits at the edge of the room, invisible and silent, watching you with something almost like reverence. You are so strong, so brave, and yet he sees the cracks now, hairline fractures running just beneath the surface.

He wants to heal them all.

He stays until your pager buzzes again, dragging you back to your feet with a weary groan. You don’t see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, fighting the instinct to snatch you away, to steal you back to safety.

He follows you into the next room, and the next.

And when your hands falter just slightly as you stitch a laceration closed, when your vision blurs for half a second too long, he is there. His magic steadies your fingers, clears your head, lends you strength you don't even realize you're drawing from.

He would burn the world for you.

Instead, he gives you this: small, unseen mercies.

By the time your shift ends, you are staggering with exhaustion, your legs barely carrying you back to the locker room.

You slump against the cool metal of your locker, forehead resting against the door, too tired even to cry.

"Just one more day," you whisper to yourself. "Just get through one more."

A ghost of a touch brushes your hair back from your face—no stronger than a whisper of wind—and you straighten up without even knowing why, a tiny bit lighter, a tiny bit less alone.

You pull your jacket on, grab your bag, and head out into the night.

Loki watches you go, his heart twisting.

He knows he cannot stay much longer. He knows he has duties of his own to return to, an entire realm waiting for him.

But tonight, he will follow you home.

Tonight, he will stand unseen by your window while you sleep, guarding you from every nightmare that dares to touch you.

Because he loves you.

And for you, he would be invisible. He would be silent. He would be anything.

As long as you are safe.

As long as you are loved.

---

By the time you make it home, your body feels like it's running on fumes.

You fumble with your keys at the door, your hands clumsy, your mind slow. You expect to find the apartment dark, empty, silent—but the second you step inside, you feel it.

Warmth.

Magic.

Loki.

He’s already there, lounging across your worn sofa, one leg draped casually over the armrest, a book open on his lap. His eyes lift the moment he senses you, and the soft, slow smile that spreads across his face makes your chest ache.

You drop your bag onto the floor with a graceless thud and shut the door behind you. The tension bleeds out of you at the mere sight of him.

"You’re here," you whisper, your voice hoarse from fatigue.

"Of course," he says simply, closing the book and setting it aside. "Where else would I be?"

You don’t ask how he got here before you.

You don’t ask why today, when everything felt just a little less unbearable, you caught glimpses of impossibilities out of the corner of your eye—papers stacked neatly when they shouldn't have been, doors held open by invisible hands, weariness lifting just long enough to get through a critical moment.

You don't ask.

Because some things, you know, are not meant to be spoken aloud.

You cross the room without a second thought and sink into him, into the sanctuary of his arms, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

He holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the universe.

For a long time, there’s only the hush of your breathing, the soft kiss he presses to your temple, the way his fingers card lazily through your hair.

"You’re exhausted," he murmurs.

You hum in agreement, too drained even for words.

"And you have no obligations tomorrow," he continues, a gleam of mischief curling in his voice. "Correct?"

You nod slowly against him.

"Good." He draws back just enough to see your face, a flicker of excitement sparking in his eyes. "Because we’re leaving."

You blink at him, too tired to process. "Leaving?"

"For Asgard," he says, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "You need rest. You need to be... spoiled."

You shake your head, laughing weakly. "Loki, I can't—"

But you don't even finish the protest. Because he’s already gathering you in his arms, standing smoothly as if you weigh nothing at all.

He whispers a word in a language older than Earth itself, and the room spins.

When the world rights itself again, you’re no longer in your apartment.

You’re standing in a grand, golden hallway, the ceilings soaring high above you, the floors polished to a mirror shine. The air smells different—cleaner, richer somehow—and the low hum of magic buzzes pleasantly under your skin.

You blink in stunned silence.

Loki grins down at you, all roguish pride and boyish delight. "Welcome back to Asgard, my love."

Before you can think of anything to say, a pair of attendants appear, bowing low with practiced grace. One of them holds out a bundle of soft, luxurious clothes in shimmering shades of silver and deep green.

"For you, Lady Y/N," the attendant says reverently.

You look at Loki, wide-eyed.

He shrugs, utterly unrepentant. "You deserve to be treated as you should be. As royalty."

He sets you down gently and nods toward a set of ornately carved doors. "Go, change. Refresh yourself. Then dinner."

You are too stunned to argue.

You disappear into the chamber beyond, where a marble bath steams invitingly, petals floating on the water's surface. You sink into it gratefully, letting the heat and the soft scents of strange flowers unknot the last of the tension in your muscles.

When you emerge, the clothes fit perfectly—soft against your skin, tailored to your shape, the fabrics lighter than anything you’ve ever worn.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the gilded mirror and barely recognize the woman staring back: not the exhausted surgeon, not the broken girl, but someone softer, more luminous.

Someone loved.

You step back into the hallway, and Loki is waiting for you.

His eyes darken the moment he sees you, something fierce and possessive flashing across his face before he tucks it away behind a smirk.

"Exquisite," he says, offering his arm.

You slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, and he leads you through the palace, past towering columns and glowing crystal sconces, until you reach a grand dining hall.

It’s not a feast for a hundred—it’s a feast for you.

A private table set for two, laden with dishes you don’t recognize but that smell impossibly good. The air is filled with soft music, the melodies strange and hauntingly beautiful.

He pulls out your chair with a flourish and waits until you’re seated before taking his place across from you.

The meal passes in a haze of laughter and stolen glances, Loki’s wit light and effortless, his attention never straying from you for a second. He fills your plate with whatever you want, pours you a goblet of some sweet, golden drink, and teases you gently whenever you try to protest that he’s fussing too much.

But you let him.

Because deep down, you know he needs this too.

He needs to give you what he can, in a world where so often you give everything away.

Afterward, he leads you through a winding garden, the stars above shining larger and closer than they ever do on Earth. The air is cool, the paths lined with soft glowing stones.

You stop at the edge of a fountain, the water sparkling under the moons.

He pulls you into his arms, swaying with you to the music only he can hear.

"You saved lives today," he says quietly, brushing his knuckles along your jaw. "Even when no one saved you."

You swallow hard, your throat tightening.

"You are a wonder," he continues, lowering his forehead to yours. "And I will spend every day I am allowed showing you that."

You tilt your head up, capturing his mouth with yours before the tears can fall. He kisses you back fiercely, hands curling into your hair, his body warm and solid against yours.

You lose yourself in him—in the safety, the devotion, the love that wraps around you more surely than any magic ever could.

When you finally pull away, he cups your face, his thumb brushing the dampness from your cheeks.

"Come," he says, voice thick. "Sleep in a real bed tonight, my queen."

You let him lead you back through the palace, back to a suite larger than your entire apartment, the bed piled with velvet and silk.

He undresses you carefully, reverently, until you are bare before him, and then he slips into the bed beside you, gathering you against him.

You fall asleep with his heart beating steady under your ear, the stars of another world shining outside your window.

And for the first time in a long, long while, you dream of peace.

---

Morning in Asgard doesn’t creep in.

It floods.

Soft gold spills through the sheer curtains, lighting the room in a warm, otherworldly glow. The silk sheets are tangled around your legs, the air still scented faintly with jasmine and something sharper—something distinctly Loki.

You stir slowly, one arm reaching out instinctively—and finding him already watching you.

Loki lies propped on one elbow beside you, bare-chested, the sheet slung low over his hips. His hair is mussed from sleep, his eyes lit with a quiet, adoring hunger.

"Good morning," he murmurs, voice still rough with sleep.

You stretch, sighing softly as you roll toward him, your fingers tracing idle lines across his chest. "You’re staring."

He arches an eyebrow. "How could I not? You're beautiful in all lights, but in this one..." His gaze drops lower, slow and deliberate. "You're divine."

You blush, laughing under your breath, and lean in to kiss him. He meets you halfway, his mouth soft but deepening quickly, his hand sliding down to your waist. He pulls you closer until your leg is hooked over his hip, your bodies flush, heat rising between you like a slow tide.

"You deserve mornings like this," he says against your lips. "No alarms. No rushing off. Just me. Just you."

"I could get used to this," you whisper, breath hitching as his fingers slide up under the thin sheet draped over your back.

"Then do," he murmurs, voice a low promise. "Stay here. With me. For one more day."

You don’t answer—can’t answer—not when his mouth finds the curve of your throat, not when his hand slips lower, coaxing a gasp from your lips. His name escapes you in a broken whisper as his touch turns firmer, more deliberate.

The moment stretches, deep and golden, poised on the edge of something more.

And then—

Ding.

You both freeze.

Your brows knit, confused for half a second—until the sound comes again, distinct and familiar and horribly real.

Your phone.

Loki groans quietly, his forehead dropping to your collarbone.

"I warded your device to connect to Midgard's networks," he mutters, clearly regretting it now. "In case you needed it while here. I did not expect it to turn against me so soon."

You reach blindly for your phone on the nightstand, heart already dropping.

It’s a message from the hospital. Urgent call. Emergency case. Available personnel needed ASAP.

You stare at it for a moment, your body still thrumming with warmth, tangled in satin sheets and Loki’s arms.

Then reality slices through you like ice.

You sit up, dragging the sheet with you, thumb already flying across the screen to respond. Your heartbeat pounds against your ribs—habit, duty, instinct.

Loki watches silently, the lines of his jaw tightening, something dark and unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

You look at him.

"I have to go," you say softly, already slipping out of bed.

He doesn’t answer right away.

He just sits there, watching you gather your clothes, his gaze heavy with something between heartbreak and resignation.

"You just got here," he finally says, quiet.

You nod, throat tight. "I know."

His fingers flex slightly against the sheets. He doesn’t stop you. Of course he doesn’t. He never would.

But you can feel the ache in his silence as clearly as if he shouted it.

You dress quickly, moving through the motions on autopilot, and when you reach for your phone again, you pause.

You turn back to him.

"I wanted to stay," you whisper.

His eyes find yours. "I know."

And then he rises, steps toward you, and pulls you into his arms one last time.

He kisses you like he’s memorizing the taste of you, his hands cradling your face with a reverence that makes your chest burn.

When you finally pull away, breathless and aching, he rests his forehead against yours.

"I’ll bring you back," he says softly. "As soon as I can."

And then, with a twist of his fingers and a shimmer of green light, the golden palace disappears, and you’re standing once more at your apartment door.

Back on Earth.

Back in scrubs.

Back in the storm.

---

You make it through the shift.

Barely.

The emergency turns out to be a multi-car pile-up—three ambulances arriving back-to-back, a dozen patients flooding the trauma unit. It’s chaos. Controlled chaos, but chaos all the same.

You don’t have time to think. Not about Asgard. Not about Loki. Not even about the way your legs feel like they might give out beneath you.

You’re soaked in sweat before the first hour is over, your gloves red and sticky, your voice hoarse from barking out orders. One of the patients codes right there in front of you—a teenager with too much blood in his chest, not enough in his brain—and you don’t even flinch. You crack his ribs open and dig your hands into his chest like it’s just another procedure.

Because it is just another procedure.

Until it’s not.

Until he dies.

And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

You scrub out in silence, your hands trembling slightly under the hot stream of water. You stare at the blood circling the drain, the pink foam clinging to your skin, and you feel... nothing.

Not horror. Not sadness.

Just empty.

You barely make it to the locker room before you sit down and don’t get up for twenty minutes. You ignore the concerned glance from one of the residents, the gentle pat on the back. You say you're fine.

You’re always fine.

But inside, something has shifted.

And when your shift finally ends and you walk out into the cold night air, something in you breaks open, quiet and irrevocable.

You love your job. You know you do. The helping, the healing, the second chances. It’s all worth it. It has to be.

But you can’t keep living like this.

You’re going to die from it. Not all at once—but by inches.

Every night without sleep. Every trauma you carry home. Every time you walk into your apartment too exhausted to eat, to breathe, to be alive.

This isn’t sustainable.

And maybe for the first time... you admit it.

By the time you reach your door, you’re blinking back tears, your limbs too heavy, your chest too tight.

You unlock it with shaking hands.

And he’s there.

Of course he’s there.

Loki stands in the middle of your living room, dressed in black, his hair pulled back, eyes already on you. He doesn’t say a word—he doesn’t need to.

Because the moment you look at him, really look, the dam breaks.

You don’t even drop your bag. You just cross the space between you and fall into his arms like a collapsing star.

He catches you instantly.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t ask.

He just holds you.

And gods, it undoes you.

You cry into his chest, silent and shaking, your fists curled into the fabric of his shirt. He rests his chin atop your head and rocks you gently, his arms strong and sure around you.

"I can’t do it anymore," you whisper, barely audible.

He doesn’t stiffen.

He just kisses the top of your head.

"I know."

"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could save everyone. But it’s killing me, Loki. Slowly. Quietly. And no one even sees it."

He pulls back just enough to take your face in his hands, his expression aching with tenderness.

"I see it," he says. "I’ve always seen it."

You close your eyes.

"I don’t want to stop being a doctor," you murmur. "But I don’t want to lose myself doing it."

"You won't," he says, firm. "We’ll find a way. I will find a way."

You look at him, eyes glassy. "You can’t fix this with magic."

"No," he agrees. "But I can carry it with you. As long as you let me."

You exhale shakily, nodding before you even fully process it.

"Okay," you say. "Okay."

He kisses you then, slow and deep, like he’s trying to draw every ounce of pain out of you and replace it with something softer. Something safe.

He helps you out of your coat, your shoes, the bag still slung over your shoulder. He leads you to the couch, wraps you in a blanket, and curls around you like a shield.

You’re asleep before you even realize your eyes are closing.

And in that moment, even with everything still uncertain, you know one thing for sure:

You’re not alone in this anymore.

You never will be.

part 2 where reader leaves the hospital and lives on Asgard? maybe being a doctor there? do asgardians even need one? idk

[blue-sadie]

Against The Glass

Being stuck with them in a mirror maze

The familiar circus weird but happy music faded as you moved further and further into the maze, the sight of your frazzled expression almost becoming annoying and worry, his footsteps are heard eerily close.

Your feet were sore from your heels and the sound was giving you a headache the thought of taking them off long pushed from your mind, the words he spoke as he payed for your tickets plagued your mind.

'If I catch you I fuck you'

Your legs were coming sore and your steps wobbly how big was this fucking maze, your throat was sore and dry you just wanted to fall to your knees and beg for mercy but no your not giving him that satisfaction, you trip closing your eyes bracing for impact but none came.

His body pressed up against yours pushing you against a mirror your face squashed against its surface, his hands quickly worked on hiking up your black mini skirt you decided to wear, your throat let out choked whines as you heard his pants drop.

He worked his way inside you, not giving you time to adjust his thrusts pushing into the mirror causing it to wobble, your eyes closed tightly praying for nothing to break that nothing was only including the mirrors you didn't mind getting broken by him.

Loki Laufeyson, Jake Lockley, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Warren Worthington III, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne

[lokibutts]

I Lied, I’m Sorry.

(F!Reader x Loki)

Note from Lokibutts: I’m still going through my bots to see which I could turn into fics and I can’t stop giggling over the fact that I now get to add more dialogue the more I get comfortable writing it. Be gentle, I’m still new to it but any pointers or suggestions would be amazing xoxo

Late at night in Asgard, the loneliest goddess and the most broken god sat at the grand table, doing their best to ignore each other’s presence. You had grown tired of waiting for him to commit, to forget about becoming king snd just actually sit there and love you. But he never wanted to say it, he refused to which killed you inside and ultimately lead to the end of your relationship. Days had passed since the breakup, yet the wounds were still raw, and the tension thick as ever.

“Fuck it.”

Loki let out a sigh, running his fingers through his ink-black curls as he reached for his drink. He was itching to touch your delicate hand resting so politely on the table.

“It seems someone forgot that we are no longer together. Apologies, my dear.” His voice was soft as he placed the goblet gently down and tried his best to break the ice. “How have you been since the last time we spoke?”

You roll your eyes, a small smile threatening at the corner of your lips as you fought to hide it. He knew he still had you wrapped around his little finger the moment you responded with a snarky remark.

“I’ve been fine, no thanks to you.” You kept it short to avoid talking to him. It was probably better if he left you alone during this entire meal, but Loki had waited too long to speak to you, and his impatience won out.

“I’m... I’m glad you’re doing well.” His voice was softer than usual, uncertain. “Truly.” He hated how unsure he sounded. It wasn’t like him. But that’s what you did to him.

Did no one else at this table notice the tension between them? Why did it feel like it was just the two of them alone in this vast room. Their palms were sweaty, they tried to talk to other people yet they couldn’t help but look at each other when the other wasn’t looking.

The next hour was torturous. Both of you were itching to say something, yet neither could find the courage to do so. It felt like you had both forgotten how to speak. Loki’s gaze never left the wall as he resisted the urge to compliment you or offer to refill your goblet. The tension in the air was unbearable.

As Loki stared at the wall, he wished it would catch on fire and end the personal hell he was trapped in. But he knew that would never happen. He was cursed to sit there and think about the night you both broke up, exchanging heated words, sharp and colorful, that still lingered in the air.

Finally, breaking the silence, he spoke, his voice quiet but sincere. “You know, when I said I didn’t love you... I lied. You are everything a god like me could never fathom to have, let alone be able to love. Yet here I am-”

That’s when you made the mistake of finally looking at him and that’s when the walls you tried so hard to keep up finally broke down when you saw a flash of hope appear in those beautiful, blue eyes. A blush immediately forming on your cheeks before quickly looking away trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill right at that moment.

“-what could I possibly do to make you believe me? Do you want me to go steal the moon or sun from Hatti and Sköll? Or perhaps carve your name onto Yggdrasil for the world to know that you are mine and mine alone?”

You couldn’t contain the laughter that left you, shaking your head as you gently bump him with your shoulder. He knew you were a sucker for romantic gestures, especially ones that extreme. He would summon Ragnorak a thousand times in order to see you smile.

“I’m pretty sure defacing Yggdrasil would get you killed…better yet, yes go deface Yggdrasil.”

The smile that appeared on his face made your heart flutter in your chest one again, his hand immediately moving to rest on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. Oh, how he missed your snarky remarks.

[yourmum8609]

girls will look at a man and say “he’s just misunderstood” as he murders people

[littledark11]

Yeah she's so done with his bullshit but I want to know if he would get offended realizing she wasn't wet at all, she was very dry like Sahara desert.

What that hurt his ego? What I care? Absolutely not lol

On Good Behaviour 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn’t much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You drag the wet cloth along your cunt. You clean away the residue of the lube that coated the condom and grimace at yourself in the mirror. You shake your head and toss the cloth into the small basket in the corner. You grab a dry one to soak up the moisture between your thighs. 

You’re disgusted with yourself. Him as well. You sigh and stand straight. 

You drop the cloth and fix your blouse. You rinse off your hands and try to smooth the wrinkles creased into your skirt. It’s only three in the afternoon; not quite the end of the day. 

You open the bathroom door and march out. You’re surprised and not to find him still sprawled over the foldout mattress. You grab your phone to confirm the time. Just after three. 

“Sir,” you cross your arms and step back to face him. “I recall you have an appointment at four--” 

“Cancel it and come back to bed,” he insists. 

You stare at him. He runs his hand down his naked torso and hums. You look at the wall. 

“You wanted that report done--” 

“Am I asking you for it now?” He turns onto his side and his green eyes flare. “You are being defiant.” 

“No, sir, I’m doing my job--” 

“I told you to come back here,” he taps the mattress. 

You stare at him. His coily black hair is messy and tangle around his hand as he holds his head up. He flattens his palm to the thin mattress and rubs it. 

“Take all that off and come here,” he demands. 

You put your phone down. He’s not much different than the guards or even some of the inmates in prison. It’s a power struggle. Like them, he just wants confirmation that he’s the one with control. The fact that he is who he is, makes it all the more pathetic. 

You undress. As you do, your mind strays. It isn’t hard to guess why he’s doing this. Not after meeting his family.  He has an inferiority complex which you suspect is attached to his aforementioned brother. You have your own issues; too many siblings, a shitty mom, a steady stream of ‘father figures’. Even so, you can’t relate much to what he’s doing, though you can guess at his flawed reasoning. 

As you shove down your skirt, completely exposed, he purrs and strokes himself. You hold back a cringe. You repress a sigh as you approach and grab another condom. He catches your hip as you put your knee on the bed. 

“No need to rush,” he assures you. 

You stiffen and say nothing. He’s invaded your home, your body, your entire life; you just want him out as soon as possible.  

He drags his hand up your side and cups your tit. He sits up as he continues fondling you, watching his thumb as it circles your nipple. He brings his other hand up and moves you closer. You don’t resist. 

He pushes your tits together and buries his face in them. He growls and nips at the bulging flesh. He wiggles his head around and kisses along your skin. He drops one hand down to tickle your stomach. You shudder and tighten your fist around the condom. 

He urges you closer as he clasps onto your hip. You lift your leg over his and straddle him on your knees. You reach down to pump him as he plays with your chest. It’s all mechanical to you. Just a part of the job. You’re ticking off another box on the list. 

You pull back and tear open the condom. You push it onto him and he sits back, his stomach muscles clenching as he watches you sheath him in the rubber. His nails dig into the bed and his hisses out a breath. 

You grip him firmly and position yourself over him. You lower yourself gently. You’re thankful for the pre-lubed condom; you’re dry. You grunt as you take all of him. His hands go to your hips and he holds you down. 

He groans as his thumbs trace along the top of your pelvis. His eyes scour up and down your body. He squeezes and rocks you against him. You exhale and let him guide your motion. 

He’s slow and deliberate. He focuses on the joint of your bodies, watching how you glide up and down his length. He shoves you down suddenly and tilts your pelvis so your clit rubs against him. The spark of delight startles you. 

You latch onto his forearms as he keeps your moving. He snarls and leans forward. He nips at your chest again. You stare above his dark hair. He nuzzles and teethes at your tits, teasing you as he drones out. 

“Darling,” he slithers. “Mmm, you... are very capable.” 

He leans back and twists his arms free of your grasps. He takes your hands and puts them on his chest. He smirks at you as his hands falls down to the bed. 

“Go on.” 

Your eyes meet for a split second. You lower your lashes and brace his chest. You roll your hips. He croaks and twitches. He tilts his head back. 

“Oh, yes,” he taunts. “A woman like you... so naughty.” 

You bite your lip to hold back your frustration. ‘A woman like you’... What kind of man does that make him?” 

“Hm, you’ve had some practice, haven’t you? Is this how you got through it? Get an extra dessert at meal time--” 

You pull your hand back without thinking, jaw locking, and you curl your fingers to a fist. You still, arm cocked, ready to bash his face in. You glare at him and he snickers. 

“We both know you won’t,” he reaches and pushes your hand down. Your arm slackens and falls. You deflate. “Remember who and what you are.” 

He grabs your sides and hauls you up with him. He puts you on your back as he gets to his knees, staying inside of you as you hit the mattress. He adjusts himself and frames your throat, tightening his grip as he snarls down at you. 

He thrusts deep. Your insides constrict and you tense. He does it again. And again. Each time is cruel and sharp. Each time, his hold on you tightens. You gasp for air as he fucks you until the metal frame whines. 

You grab his wrists. Your eyes well and your head throb. He slams into you, over and over, his grunts deep and furious. His tempo builds until the whole world seems to quake around you. 

He finishes in a flurry. He peels his hands away from your neck and plants them on either side of your head. He holds himself up as he hammers into you. You close your eyes and wait for it to end. 

When it does, he collapses onto you, breathless. You throb around him. His sweaty skin sticks to yours and his weight paralyses you. You stare at the ceiling. 

You could be mad. You could blame it on a thousand different things. What good would that do? You made yourself a criminal. You made yourself vulnerable. 

It will end. He will get bored. That’s how you got by. You waited it out. Bullies always lose interest. 

💼

You wait in line at the coffee shop. It’s early. You’re exhausted. Well, you were tired for years. No one sleep good on a prison cot. 

You step up and order the usual cortado. Nothing for yourself. As you shuffle along the counter to wait for the coffee, a twinge makes you wince. You hate that you can still feel him. You’re trying to ignore it. 

You thank the barista as she slides over the cup. You take a lid for it and set off. You get to the office; it’s unlocked. 

You enter and find Mr. Laufeyson say behind your desk. He greets you with a taunting grin. You hoped that yesterday would end it. That once he had his little victory, he’d let you be. You put the coffee down and face him over the desk. 

“Sir.” 

His cheek dimples. He stares at you. You don’t flinch. 

“You’re early,” he drawls. 

So is he. That fact isn’t lost on you. 

“We’ve time.” 

His feet are set wide. He turns the chair slightly and unbuckles his belt. You don’t react. 

“Sir, I didn’t get to wrap my work up yesterday--” 

“After,” he reaches into his pants. “Just a quick one.” 

You blink. What is wrong with him? 

He nods to the desk. There’s a condom waiting. You choke back your reticence. You drop your bag and grab it. 

You step in front of him as he pulls himself out. You slide the condom on and he sighs. You turn your back to him. You tug up your skirt and push your panties aside. 

You reach between your legs as you hover over his lap. He shoves you down by your hips. You grunt and keep a hold of the desk. 

“Mm, yes, just as I recall,” he leans back. “Darling, you take me very well.” He runs his hand up and down your back. “And you obey remarkably. I would say you are nearly reformed.” 

You rock your hips as you keep a grip on the desk. You use it for leverage as he traces lines up and down the back of your blouse. You tilt faster and faster. He leans forward and wraps his arms around you. He gropes your chest through your blouse and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Yes, darling--” 

A sudden knock makes him cough. Shit. He pauses and listens. The knock comes again. 

“Hullo, anyone in?” Dina’s voice wafts through the door. 

Your eyes snap wide and you elbow Laufeyson off of you. He untangles his arms and stand, the condom coming off inside of you. Shit. You don’t have time. 

You pull your skirt down and tidy your blouse. You scurry away from the desk as he stands, his buckle clinking loudly. You go to the door and look at him. He tucks his shirt in and sends you an agitated gaze. He gestures for you to open the door. 

You pull it back on the hinges, “oh, Dina, hi.” 

“Hello, dear. Checking in. Is Mr. Laufeyson--” 

“Good morning,” Mr. Laufeyson crosses the office lithely, “we were only going over opening tasks.” He offers his hand. She shakes it.  

“I’m so sorry for interrupting.” 

“Not at all. She is still adjusting, so we are diligent in reviewing,” he explains. You back away from them. 

“Oh, yes, sometimes it can be very much work. When they’re locked up, they have routine, but once they’re out...” she clucks. “Well that’s why I’m here.” 

“You are very thorough at your job,” he says. “It is early, are you in the mind for a coffee?” 

“At that place downstairs? I passed it and thought it smelled wonderful,” she trills. 

“My treat,” he insists. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have about her performance.” 

“Oh my, Mr. Laufeyson, thank you,” she preens and tugs at her over-styled ringlets. 

“Loki suits me well enough,” he insists. “Let us be off.” 

She spins and struts out, a notable sway in her hips. You stand behind the desk. Laufeyson lingers at the door and peeks back at you. His cheek twitches. 

“You will wait for me and we will continue going over your tasks for the day,” he says. 

“Yes, sir,” you answer as you tap your fingers on the desk. 

He nods and leaves, snapping the door shut behind him. You exhale and grimace. You bend your knees and reach between your legs. You pull the condom out of your cunt and flick it into the bin. Ugh, he’s so gross. 

You drop into the chair and stare at the black screen. It’s a good thing he got in out of there. She’s got an eye for detail. She’d be able to see the coffee you got him or the fact that you hadn’t even got set up for the day. 

You almost think you should just tell her. You’re not stupid. She wouldn’t help you, she would blame you. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to go back to prison. At least there, you know where you belong. 

No, because then he wins. 

You tap the power button and let the laptop boot. You pull your bag closer and unzip the top. You put your phone beside the mousepad and take out your water bottle. 

As you get the inbox open, your cell buzzes. You flinch and snatch it up, turning it to silent. The message waiting for you is from him. You can’t catch a break. 

‘Darling, you’ve left me undone.’ 

You curl your lip. You can’t tell if he’s reprimanding you or trying to be coy. Either way, you’re repulsed. 

You don’t respond. How can you? The puke emoji seems fitting but foolish. 

Another message brightens the screen before you can put the phone down. ‘I was awake all night. Thinking of you on me.’ 

You furrow your nose. What the fuck? 

‘Did you feel empty without me?’ 

You snort. You put the phone down and throw your hand up in silent confusion. No. He doesn’t think that you enjoyed it, does he? He doesn’t think this is more than you playing along. He can’t. How could he think that you want him? 

The phone lights up once more. 

‘I need you badly. It hurts. You will be ready for me upon my return.’ 

Sure, ready but not wanting. 

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute