#The Dark Detective - Loki | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spookyrea · 2 months ago

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A Cheap Trick Called Shame

Chapter 1 / Read on AO3

Loki has a plan. A twelve step plan to woo both you and the world (in that order). Unfortunately, he neglects to communicate any of this to you. Chaos ensues. Or: you have a plan. A plan that involves brute-forcing Loki into admitting that he likes you. Unfortunately, you're a witch with a limited grasp on your powers. Chaos ensues. Or: Tony is a very, very good friend, even when he doesn't want to be.

18+ NSFW / fem reader

Loki Laufeyson is all sharp lines. From the slope of his nose to the flat plane of his chest, there is not an edge to him that has not been filed to a point. Even in moments of relaxation, his muscles strain under a skin stretched too thin, hinting at a terrible, jagged restlessness. He is a weapon ground down on a whetstone, which he makes no effort to hide.

The first time you saw Loki – in person, not in a gossip rag or in a pixelated profile on a screen – he towered over the shape of some would-be tyrant, his boot pressed firmly to the soft spot under their skull. It was your first real mission – that is to say, the first one to incur sizable property damage. You hadn’t even seen the action, relegated to keeping civilians safe and handling minor set-backs while Thor and his brother ran point. So the fun was already over, and the bad guy defeated by the time you arrived. Everyone else was celebrating another job well done except for Loki, who watched the enemy wriggle as a cat does a mouse – with a detached curiosity, his mouth whetted for dinner.

Loki occupies a nebulous middle-ground that is becoming increasingly common: justifiably revered while equally reviled. Not quite an Avenger, but not quite not. Too great an asset to lose to a grudge. He is never trusted with important information, or access to your private chats, or even a room beyond the hoteling spaces offered in the Avengers Compound. There are some who will likely never forgive him for New York, and others who watched him crash-land a ship full of refugees with his brother and have decided to put their faith in that Loki.

Your staring drew his attention eventually. Preternatural in nature and so hungry; his eyes licked up every soft, human curve until he reached your eyes.

Steve had hauled the enemy up by his scruff, vibranium shackles in hand. Steve was soft – round muscle and sweetheart eyes. The kind of quiet that's assertive. Next to Loki, he seemed comically kind.

Loki took one step forward – or did you? – and then another, until you were near enough to speak. “You’re new,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You’re a witch .”

You were turned dumb by his eyes. They were such a bright green – expressive, sparkling things, framed by a dark hedging of lashes and little creases at the corners. How much did he smile, you wondered, to carve lines in an immortal face? “Yes.”

He didn’t say much else. Only grinned, and pulled his gloves off finger by finger. A crowd was forming and the sound of a hundred shutters going off all at once drowned out the silence of battle. People were yelling. Loki kept looking.

Steve pulled him away by the collar. “Enough schmoozing, Loki. Too public.”

“Shaking hands is the polite way to greet someone on Midgard, is it not?”

“Loki,” Steve had deadpanned. “You and I both know that you weren’t just going to shake her hand.”

Someone like Loki flirted for fun. Looked people in the eyes just to watch them go numb with wanting. Grinned – resplendent despite his terrible arrogance – because he knew they would cave and let him in no matter how evil he was.

But this didn’t feel like a joke. Loki looked back at you over his shoulder, towed away by his epaulettes, and his smile was genuine.

In the present, you stand on a balcony overlooking the Avengers Compound’s quad. The sun has set but the air is still warm; June has been kind so far, it's days rarely so hot that you have to hide inside.

Loki didn’t join you until everyone else went to bed. He does this a lot – avoids detection. It sometimes strikes you as odd, considering how quick Loki is to hog the spotlight, but you imagine the public eye can get tiresome even for someone as naturally egotistical as him. Or maybe he’s just embarrassed by your human-ness. Either way, spending time with him is a pleasure you’ll accept regardless of his intentions.

“Careful.” Loki is sin incarnate, pouring himself over your shoulder to offer you his mystery drink. “This is very powerful.”

“What will it do to me?”

“Enslave you to my every desire?” He leans against the bannister, cheek-to-shoulder, and watches you with the slightest slouch.

“Is that right?” You raise it just high enough to get a taste; it’s sharply floral and leaves your mouth feeling sticky, like you’ve swallowed corn syrup. Unlike earthly alcohol it doesn’t burn, but it does leave behind a strange itch in your sinuses.

“You Midgardians have no self-preservation skills.”

“I think you’re just slipping,” you counter. “So much for enslaving.”

There’s some sort of film collecting at the bottom of the glass, a thin pink sheen left behind as the dregs dry.

“Nothing? Not wooed by my charm, are you?”

“Not at all.”

“Hmmph. Rude. You could at least pretend to fawn over me. It’s the polite thing to do, you know.”

You hear a rustle from the bushes to your left. You pay it no mind but Loki freezes, and his hand pulls away from your arm stiffly. His shadow splits from his feet and storms toward the planters; there is a short protest, and then an expensive looking camera arcs through the air into Loki’s waiting hand. A ruddy-faced man stands, brushing detritus from his shirt.

“Pervert,” Loki growls.

“Everyone’s fully clothed.”

“Tch.” Loki pulls the camera apart – not with his seidr, but with his bare hands. He rips the lens off, then the flash; squeezes the plastic sides until they splinter; sticks his fingers into gears and gizmos – until the device is practically dust. He finds the SD card and crushes it under his shoe. “Be a dear and fetch security, would you?”

You understand when you’re being dismissed. You’re a little worried what Loki might do to the stranger in this mood, though, so you pull your phone out and type a quick message to Happy.

“Don’t want your playboy image ruined by a little girlfriend?” The photographer either lacks the self-preservation skills to keep his ego in check, or is just too stupid to recognize when a creature with the power to manually disassemble a man by his joints is angry. He brushes off his pant legs as if he is the one being put out by this entire exchange, his ruddy face deepening to near-purple.

“Would you prefer it if I took you apart next?”

The photographer only laughs. “Small victories, huh? Couldn’t conquer the world, or even the Avengers, but its women are all too willing to let you conquer them.”

Loki’s mouth curves down. The balcony is lit by a brief whip crack of green, buzzing hot inside your silver fillings. It leaves you blinking spots out of your eyes, and by the time your field of vision has returned to normal, you find that the paparazzo has been replaced by a conspicuously round, green toad wriggling on the concrete.

“Loki! You can’t just turn people into frogs!”

“Well, of course not. That’s why I turned him into a toad.”

The paparazzo hops a bit too far left for your liking, nearly clearing the railing toward certain death below. You side-step Loki and try to usher the toad toward the building, not a freefall.

“Can you be sued for this?”

“He’ll be back to normal in a few hours.”

“You said that about the dogs.”

“I had no idea that human teeth were so hard to transmogrify.”

“And the robots.”

“Okay,” he counters, his hands planted firmly on his hips. “That was an uprising against Stark’s villainous mistreatment. They took matters into their own hands and made their grievances heard.”

“You unionized them.”

“They did that themselves! I only… aided their endeavours. I’m something of a humanitarian at the end of the day, dearest.”

Security arrives quickly – no doubt out of fear for the stranger’s well-being, not yours. After a short (albeit slippery) struggle, they collect the paparazzo into someone’s pocket and cart him off… somewhere. Hopefully with a water dish.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you grumble on the way to your apartment. Loki had agreed to walk you back, but the distance between the two of you is enormous in comparison to the balcony. Every time you try to make some headway, Loki moves a comparable step sideways. “A few photos online.”

“It’s the principle of the matter.” You imagine for Loki, someone sustained entirely by attention, that those few photos spell out starvation.

“I know… But women won’t really mind. If you’re seen around me, I mean. A girlfriend wouldn’t stop most people from flirting with you. Actually, it might even make you more desirable.” Loki's jaw rolls, and it’s clear you’ve said the wrong thing. You never know with him.

The hallway is a sprawling thing on most days, but tonight it seems all too short. You find yourself wishing it would go on a bit longer. “You leave tomorrow?”

“Technically today. Before sunrise.”

“I could stay up a bit longer.” You try to catch his sleeve inconspicuously. “Until you have to go.”

“Pet.”

“You can tell me all about that bet you and Banner have going. He’s tried to explain it to me, but–”

“Pet.”

“Really, I’m not that tired–”

Loki pulls you to a halt and shoots you a wry smirk. He taps one of the apartment doors. “How many times have we turned this corner now?”

Your cheeks burn. You must have accidentally compelled the building to loop the hallway a few times. “Sorry. I’m not very good at controlling it yet.”

“Witches,” he groans, winding an arm around your waist. This time, he leads you down the hall – and around the corner – until you’re both in front of your apartment.

It’s quiet in the hall. The kind of quiet only experienced in airports and empty streets; a quiet that whispers sleep-song and makes you crave a warm bed. “I’m not even that tired, really,” you offer weakly.

But Loki stands in your doorway as if the threshold is an insurmountable barrier, lingering like he’s trying to concoct some grand scheme but never acting on the threat. Dejected, you close the door with a wave.

He catches it with his foot just before it can fully shut. “I suppose–” His hand snakes through the gap, pushing it just wide enough to peer through. “Perhaps you could… visit. Me. Us. New Asgard.”

“Is it… built yet?” The last you had seen, New Asgard was a hunk of smoldering rock and a few ramshackle stone houses.

“Well… It’s not perfect. Asgard proper was built out of solid gold. But it’s passable. Quaint. Free from… prying eyes.” The door creaks under Loki’s flexing fingers. Such a small detail, yet you find yourself lingering on it. As if it is taking a great deal of effort for him to remain on the other side of the threshold.

A female voice floats down the hallway. Wanda, you think. Whoever it is, they startle Loki out of his reverie long enough for him to regain some sense.

“I should go,” he mumbles.

“Or you could stay.”

“Or,” he pushes off the door frame with a theatrical flourish. “I could go.”

Even though Loki chose to rebuke you, you don't go to bed until the sun has started rising. The Asgardian warship – a garish, ugly spacecraft spray-painted in a dozen different colours – leaves in the early morning. Your apartment overlooks the compound’s landing-strip, giving you the perfect vantage point to watch Loki ascend the ramp beside his brother.

You consider your reflection in the mirror while you brush your teeth. “You want me,” you say to no one in particular. “You want me so badly.”

Weeks crawl by. The most contact you have with Loki is in passing in meetings, where he occasionally provides a biting comment at Tony or Steve’s expense via video call.

You can’t get the thought of Loki out of your head. Your mind wanders back to him so often that you find yourself, halfway lost to a daydream, accidentally puppeteering kitchen appliances together like dolls, bashing them together in some crude approximation of an embrace.

“Stop that,” you snap. The toaster and electric kettle float shamefully back to the counter. The ability to communicate will into inanimate objects is sometimes a blessing, but mostly a curse.

“What am I going to do?” You moan to them. The toaster pats the back of your hand with its cord. “He wants me. I know he wants me. He– right? I’m not crazy.”

The toaster chooses that moment to return to being a toaster and does not respond.

You’ve sent Loki a few text messages sporadically; he occasionally answered. On only one occasion did he reach out first.

Are you thinking about me? He wrote.

You were never not thinking about him. Your days were mostly spent pretending to watch television with Tony while secretly dreaming about Loki’s hands.

You aimed for nonchalance when you replied. Maybe. Why?

Old superstition. His next message took a few minutes to come in. You wondered what he could be doing – was he busy, texting you absentmindedly during some mundane chore, or was he nervous, poring over every choice of synonym to create the perfect reply like you were? When you catch the wind changing directions, it means someone is thinking about you.

You weren’t quite sure how to respond. You could aim for flirty, maybe? Or ask him a question to keep him talking? You were halfway through drafting a text when another message from Loki came in:

If a hurricane touches down over the compound, you know why.

Your response bounced. You watched the little check mark pinwheel, never settling – around and around and around. Eventually, the text bubble went grey.

Undeliverable – try again later.

Another week drags by.

Quin-jets are always a few degrees warmer than comfortable. Something to do with their engines – while magnificently powerful, they give off heat like an oven element. June has been chased off by a slobbering July, leaving you all a damp, awful mess, which is how you and Tony find yourself in t-shirts and shorts, peeling your exposed skin off of sticky leather seats.

You prop your feet up on the quin-jet’s dashboard, waiting for Tony to finish checking the cargo. A can of soda sweats between your thighs and you focus on tracing the condensation while you queue up music for the trip.

“Do you think you could compel green apple candies to not taste like shit?”

“Some people like green apple flavour, Tony.”

“Who? Name one person.”

“Clint.”

“Clint would eat toilet paper if it looked at him hard enough.”

“Natasha.”

“Okay, but Nat would also–”

You toss a sour candy in your mouth and chew thoughtfully, ignoring the grotesque ten-layer sundae that Tony is painting with his words. “Why the green apple hate?”

“It’s not even apple flavour,” he complains from the cargo hold. “It’s evil. Nasty. I'm actually a bit offended that you even picked them at the gas station. Throw it out the airlock for all I care. Actually – I’m rich enough. I should start lobbying–” Tony drops into the driver’s seat and begins flipping switches. “Feet off my dash.”

You roll your eyes but comply, knowing that your feet will be back up in twenty minutes. Tony holds out one hand, palm up, while he pulls the quin-jet up and forward toward New Asgard. (Gummy worm me, kid, he insists. Gotta pay the Tony tax. And open my soda while you're at it.)

After a few handfuls and obnoxious comments, Tony eventually settles into your flight path and switches to auto-pilot. It’s a beautiful day; you have a strong tailwind, a cold drink, and nowhere else to be but in each other's company. (Which means that Tony has to cause maximum havoc in order to get his daily ‘Piss People Off’ quota met.) “How’s your thing with Tall, Dark and Murderous?”

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“He’s a war criminal.”

“Tony, I’m pretty sure you’re a war criminal.”

“Still.” Tony and Loki aren’t friends – not even friendly – but they seem willing to put their differences aside for the well-being of the citizens of New Asgard. If it means Tony gets to play with alien technology for a few hours on weekends, that’s a plus. “You can do better. Much better.”

“He’s a prince.”

“An asshole.”

“A god.”

“I could start a religion tomorrow.”

“Tony.”

He makes his voice nasally. “Tony.”

You toss a sour key – a green one – at the side of his head. He flips you off while pulling the quin-jet a couple degrees North.

“I can’t get a read on him,” you grumble. “He disappears. Barely texts. But then he gets so–”

“Territorial?”

“Yes!”

“Yeah,” Tony scratches absentmindedly at his beard, steering the jet back on its flight path per Air Traffic Control’s request. “I think that he thinks he’s doing a really good job at hiding it. But it’s like he just can’t resist sneaking a peek.”

“You make it sound… perverted.”

“Well, he’s a pervert. Everything he does is perverted.”

You throw another candy at Tony’s head for good measure. “He’s not a pervert. He’s the opposite of a pervert. He’s so… detached.”

“You know who touches your back when you’re not looking? Perverts. You know who strokes your jacket on the rack when they’re hanging up their own? Perverts.”

“Does he really do that?”

“You know who–”

“Tony,” you interject. “What do you know that I don’t?”

He shrugs, stuffing his hand into the bag in your lap. He eats the handful indiscriminately, all at once, and then winces when it comes back mostly green. “He’s completely under your thrall. Gross.”

Tønsberg is an inconsequential splash of colour against an otherwise grey landscape: a meagre collection of houses spilling out in a few spiralled limbs, each extending from a huge clock tower in the very heart of town. A few bizarre creatures – definitely not native to Earth – flit past the windshield when you land.

“Welcome,” Tony says with a regal flourish, “to New Asgard.”

It looks like something out of a storybook. A wide cobblestone street winds along the bluff, lined with wood and stone cottages with cheerily-painted doors and window sills. Flower boxes spill over with late-spring blooms. Wooden carts are piled high with goods, peddled by salesmen in folding chairs, and a great many people sit on front steps, doing idle tasks together for the sake of togetherness.

A few Asgardians greet Tony as soon as he steps off the ramp; some children run up and grab at his pant legs to draw him into a game of tag. It appears that Thor and Loki were been roped into their game before you arrived, because both of them are collapsed in the grass a few paces away, huffing exaggeratedly and waving off a barrage of wooden swords as if their lives are truly in danger. Thor peels his head off the field with a wave, then pauses when he sees you. His face splits in a magnificent grin, and he begins to laugh.

“Thor, what could possibly be so funny?” Loki hasn’t caught on yet; he’s thrown his hands over his eyes to block out the sun. You find your feet moving on their own, carrying you to the field where the brothers lie.

He peels his hands off finger-by-finger, turning his unfocused eyes toward you. Once they adjust, Loki blanches. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

He looks different here. Like Thor, he mostly wears civilian clothing around the Avengers – button-downs and dark jeans in familiar, American cuts. He seems to favour an Asgardian style of dress when home; he’s wearing a dark, draped shirt rolled up to the elbows and an obscenely tight, low-riding pair of trousers. A leather belt is slung carelessly around his hips – for style, not function, since it’s not threaded through anything – and a few knives are strapped to his thighs.

The sun needles the back of your neck. “You said I could visit.”

“I had assumed you would tell me beforehand.”

“Your phone isn’t working.”

“The blasted thing doesn't work this far from your Midgardian cities, you see.”

“Thor sends me weekly Steam requests.”

“Thor is magnetically charged. Your 'service' follows him like a dog.”

“And you repel it.”

Loki nods, his face scrunched up in faux sincerity. “Yes. The telephone believes me to be a great, deadly creature, and it's correct to do so."

“Well. I’m here.”

“Stop ogling and start helping,” Tony hollers from the quin-jet. Thor clasps his brother by the shoulder and gives him a shake, effectively dragging Loki through the dirt.

“Stark convinced you, then,” He grumbles while fixing his hair.

“Yes. He had to ply me with the promise of hours of monologuing and gummy worms. That’s the only reason I came.”

“Ha!” Tony jerks his head in your direction, his arms laden with interesting machinery. “You’re turning red.”

You blink, bewildered, only to catch a splash of red in your periphery. Tulips – dozens of tulips, growing wildly around your feet. Bright, cardinal red, a shock that quickly bleeds out onto the otherwise grey gravel path. “Stop that!”

The flowers drop their heads in shame, admonished. You feel a little bad for being so harsh, but magical things get over such meanness quickly. When Loki stoops to examine them they immediately perk up, leaning their petals in his direction for a moment of his attention. “Stop,” you try again.

“I have to say, darling... This is a little pathetic.”

“Why can’t I control it?”

“It’s the seidr,” he explains. “Amplifying your magic. So many users concentrated in one place… We’re a bit of an invasive species. You’ll notice…” He turns your chin toward the beach. “The shoreline is turning green. Plants previously thought extinct are returning. The fish are turning new colours.”

“You’re like toxic waste.”

He laughs. “I’m a corrupting influence. When our chores are done for the evening, I’ll take you for a closer look. How does that sound?”

It’s involuntary – like blushing, only worse. Your magic swoons, and you have to consciously collect it before another meadow stars to bloom. You squeeze his hand as tightly as you can, so hard that you ache.

“It sounds great.”

“Great.”

“Mhm. Perfect.”

The corners of Loki’s mouth trip up, a smirk betraying his cool composure. He’s clearly quite taken by your bashfulness. “Per-fect.”

“Quit flirting,” Tony grumbles from the cargo hold, “and help me get everything out.”

You and Loki fill a jeep - the doorless kind, meant for military use – with supplies. Some of it you recognize, like car engines, turbines, and motherboards, but some of it is completely foreign. You’re not sure if the tech is Tony’s design or Asgardian, but some of the circuits shine in a way unlike any Earthly metal you know of. Once Tony is happy with your haul, you deposit yourself in the passenger seat and wait for Loki to get in, but he only rounds the car and leans over your lap, bracing his weight next to your thigh. He’s all muscle; with his sleeves rolled up, you’re gifted a glimpse of miles of smooth, sculpted forearm.

“Aren’t we going to deliver this now?”

Loki snorts. “No. I’m a prince, I don’t run errands . This was the extent of my work for the day.”

The jeep jostles, keeling to one side, when someone joins you from the driver’s seat. You startle and find Korg turning the key, which seems comically small between his massive fingers.

“Hi.”

He nods, which you take as your sign to scramble out of the car. Loki is already wandering off, trailing his hand behind for you to hold. “Come for a look.”

It’s a very small town – you can see the chimney of the communal hall even from the outskirts – but Loki makes it meander somehow. He pulls you down back alleys and through secret doors in shops, taking you on a winding tour of New Asgard.

Loki is more relaxed here. He laughs more freely, is less conscious of his touchiness. On more than one occasion he links your fingers together, or offers you his arm. He doesn’t mind being a nuisance, and the Asgardians are so used to it that they brush his arrogance off with barely a rolled eye.

It’s the first time that you’ve ever felt really, truly in love with him. Not secretly, or shyly, or desperately - just neutrally in love. You listen to him prattle on about a childhood spent stealing sweet breads from palace kitchens and he listens when you describe summers spent trawling for samples and penny-candy in grocery stores. There were miles – lightyears, even – between the two of you, yet the joys of childhood mischief are universal. He steers you toward the water. His hand is a solid weight in your own.

It’s a rocky beach with only a few patches of dark grey sand – hardly picturesque – but the setting sun has turned the air soft and quiet. You allow yourself to slip into the fantasy that you are the only people on Earth, just for a moment. Where he isn’t a god, and you aren’t a burgeoning witch. Where he is just a man taking you for a walk. Where he puts more than his hand on your waist.

“What were the beaches like on Asgard?” You slow down when you don’t get a response. You can’t hear any other footsteps besides your own. “Loki?”

The beach is empty for miles when you scan it. You take a few more uneven steps forward, but all you can hear is the whisper of seafoam gathering. A lonely gull circles overhead, fighting a current. Maybe it was all a dream , you think dejectedly. You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palm and try to peer past the illusion, wondering if your magic has finally overgrown your mortal body and taken control of your consciousness. “Loki?”

A pair of hands close around your hips from behind. The yelp you let out is undignified at best.

“Jeez!” You press your palm to your chest, willing your heart to calm. But beneath the fear there is relief – he’s real, and he’s touching you. You just want him to keep touching you. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Perfect. I think you’re all getting a little too complacent in my presence. About time I reminded you all of my true nature.”

You shoulder past Loki with a scowl, heading back toward the steep pathway to the top of the bluff. “You’re an egomaniac.”

“We’re quite far from civilization out here,” Loki calls after you. He kicks a stray rock, sending it skittering across the shore into the froth churned up by the tide.

“Very.”

“No one near to hear you scream.” The tide hums, crawling up the beach with a great swell. Sea salt crystalizes where the waves cross Loki’s shadow, leaving a sparkling impression of him scattered across the beach. “It is a dangerous game you’re playing.”

You open your mouth to make some dry retort, only to be startled again by Loki materializing in your path. You nearly collide with him head-first. He takes one calculated step toward you, then another. The stone shore crackles under his weight, and mischief taints his handsome face.

You had begun retreating on instinct, something you aren’t aware of until you trip on a leather shoe. The version of Loki advancing on you grins, then dissolves in a green blink, and the one at your back pins your arms like you’re an object to dissect.

“Send me away,” he murmurs, tipping his head ever so slightly. “My restraint frays with every passing second.”

You aim for flirty, but you land somewhere between stupid and dumb. “M’kay.”

Another hum; more shocks of white vandalize the shore as Loki’s seidr splits the salt from the sea. Or is it you this time? You’re not sure, but you feel magic buzzing, skittering under your skin, and you can only imagine what your heart could compel the elements to do in such a sorry state.

Loki turns you around. “M'kay,” he parrots, exaggerating your mundane inflection to be a pest.

It’s a nothing kiss, really – a hand on your cheek, his mouth over your bottom lip. There and gone in a heartbeat, with heavy eyes and a sickly kind of anticipation in his expression. When you chase him, Loki only grows more arrogant.

“Oh, you simple creature,” he rumbles, though it is anything but an insult. He holds you as if to possess you, pawing, sliding his devious hands under the hem of your shirt, and kisses you again – and again, and again, and…

You don’t return until the sun is a sliver on the horizon. You have to be careful picking your way across the cobblestone street, which is still uneven in many places. Loki doesn’t seem terribly affected; you suspect he might have some natural predilection for night vision, on account of his Jotun heritage. Whatever allows him to walk with such grace, however, is a blessing and a curse rolled into one, because it affords him the opportunity to hold you close and pretend to guide you to the town square. Even more infuriating – he’s grown cocky, chiding every unsure step. Poor thing; mocking, sinking his teeth into your shoulder just to hear you squeak; silly creature, tripping again. You’re useless without me, aren’t you? Absolutely– positively— endearingly useless.

“You’re really bad at this flirting thing.”

“Useless in a charming way.” He kisses the corner of your jaw and steers you away from the clock tower. “I don’t mind helping you along, little mortal.”

Loki’s cottage is less than a mile from the beach, something you learn between searing, mind-numbing kisses. It’s a stone building – surprisingly simple for Loki’s taste – with mismatched shingles and too many wind chimes. There are raised beds for a garden, and lawn chairs scattered around a firepit. Further down the acreage is a miniature quinjet, the four-seater kind meant for casual use. (Whether or not Loki came by this jet legally is unknown)

Loki unlatches the short gate that demarcates the field and his lawn and ushers you through, up the porch steps until you’re at the door. You’re giddy with the anticipation of it, half expecting to wake from your daydream in a board meeting or the training hall. An ocean breeze whips up the wind chimes, the only sound for miles.

“It’s so quiet out here,” you say, more to fill the time.

“We’re very far from your civilization.”

“No prying eyes.” You’re finding it hard to care, however, when his thumb traces such a loving line over the back of your hand.

“Exactly.”

His house is sparsely decorated, with the exception of an overwhelming quantity of books. They cover nearly every surface; they’ve spilled over from the bookshelf onto the floor; some open and dog-eared on the fireplace mantle; even more stacked on the windowsill. The spines are adorned in all sorts of languages; alongside the alphabet, you recognize the curves and lines of gurmukhi; the swoops of kanji; the blocky shapes of cyrillic.

A few lamps flare to life, green-ish tinted, as Loki settles into a wingback armchair in the corner. His legs spread invitingly, straining the material of his trousers; in the low light, everything about him is sharpened, a little villainous but even more handsome. It’s voyeuristic in the way that a painting is; you could stand there for hours admiring the lines and planes of his body and still find new details to digest.

You pick a book up at random and leaf through it. It’s a copy of Jane Eyre – second edition based on the inside cover.

“What are you doing?”

You turn your head and catch him watching you through his eyelashes. “Which is your favourite?”

“Hmm?” His eyes wander the length of your body, scraping a path of goosebumps as they go. Once they land on your mouth they don’t waver, not even the extra inch to meet yours. And then– the most peculiar thing occurs. Loki, usually so impassive, so difficult to read, drops his mask, and every vile, dirty thought that crosses his mind is projected for you to see in his expression.

You swallow around a tangle of barbed wire. “Language. To read.”

“English is fine,” he mumbles. “French is a nightmare. High Martian makes me want to kill someone.”

“High Martian?”

“Low Martian is much easier to read.”

If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed how Loki’s shadow was transforming under his feet. The shadow moved in an impossible way, stretching into the light without a care for how refraction was supposed to work. But you were struck dumb by the sight of Loki, god of mischief, tapping his fingers against his parted lips. Dumb enough to miss how the shadow hooks around your ankle, then your calf, up the curve of your spine until there is a second, phantom presence behind you, frog-marching you forward. The shadow dumps you in Loki’s lap, facing him. You think you feel it kiss the notch at the top of your spine.

Loki traces a line down your neck with his fingers, then follows it with his mouth. He kisses like poets speak, somehow filling a dry, nothing gesture with a great swell of emotion. “I didn’t bring you here to share book recommendations.”

Your thumb finds the seam of his lips and pulls, open to an ‘O’ shape. Loki watches you through heavily-lidded eyes, letting you slide your thumb deeper, over the ridges of his front teeth, into the heat of his mouth. His lips close behind the first knuckle, and his cheeks hollow when he sucks – hard.

Loki drops your thumb to kiss you – his tongue hot and insistent, flicking against yours, lips not quite sealed, breaths twisted and coiled together in the space between you. He leans aside just long enough to pull his shirt off before he’s devouring you again.

“Oh.”

“Yes.” He makes quick work of your shirt and bra, which end up strewn across the stacks of books. Loki sinks his teeth into the swell of one breast, just hard enough to leave little divots in your skin when he pulls away.

There is a prey instinct stirring deep inside you. A trip in your heart’s beat, stuttering with every absentminded pass of his hand over your calf. You’re hyper aware of the peculiar predicament you’ve found yourself in; there is no doubt that, were your circumstances different, were you a lowly mortal who stumbled into the gilded kingdom of Asgard, or even a few years earlier when he was still jaded and heart-stricken, Loki would have plucked you from the crowd and eaten you alive. Yet fate has twisted your luck in such a way that his cruelty has been transformed into lust.

(And isn’t that a cruelty in its own right – wanting. Desire hurts. It hurts something terrible, something bleeding. You can’t breathe for how tight your desire has wound you up.)

(You kiss him again.)

“Get yourself off on my hand like a good pet,” he says, his voice ground like gravel to sand. “And I’ll reward you generously.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” His fingers toy with the button on your shorts. “If you come, I’ll give you anything you desire.”

Loki rolls the waistband down your hips, then jerks his chin upwards, instructing you up onto your knees so he can work them the rest of the way off. He somehow makes the awkward act of undressing sexy; even when he has you one leg out of your shorts, the anticipation burning behind his eyes erases all embarrassment from your mind.

You lay your hands around his shoulders for support, creating a very loose collar. "You would look good with something around your neck.”

You didn't even mean to say it, really. It was just an observation, but one that has Loki’s hips jerking, a hiss seething through his teeth. The glare he shoots you is apocalyptic.

“Quiet.”

His right hand slides around until it’s comfortably between your legs. His middle finger traces your slit until he finds that slippery place, where there is no resistance against his touch and he sinks in. His eyebrows slant upwards even though you’re the one on fire.

“One?” He asks.

You rock your hips experimentally. His hands are long and dexterous, elegant, and even one finger is enough to make your mind spin behind your eyes. Just the obscenity of it – his beautiful hands between your legs, all that alien strength concentrated on toying with your nerves until you’re useless.

“Two?” He slides out of you, only to add a second finger when tracing your entrance. You nod, and Loki fills you a little bit more.

“Loki.” You tilt your hips, searching for a bit more friction. “It’s not – oh – quite–”

He seems to understand your frustration and takes pity; his fingers curl, soothing over that soft spot you can never quite reach, and it’s liquid relief that pools in the base of your skull. You sigh, and it drags a growl from Loki in response.

He’s completely taken apart by your pleasure. He mouths at your chest – sometimes your breasts, sometimes your shoulder, kissing anything he can reach – with a dazedness, constantly distracted by the sight of you getting off. The outline of his cock is insistent through his slacks. You're sure he must be aching.

“Loki.”

“Yes.”

“ Lo-ki. ”

“I should have offered you my mouth, not my fingers,” he says bitterly. His other hand slides between your bodies, circling your clit. “Fuck, you are resplendent.”

Loki is the picture of debauchery when he tilts his head to look up at you. His lips are shiny with spit, smeared all the way to the corner of his jaw. His hair mused, curls pulled apart by your wandering hands. If he is debauched, you can’t imagine how you look.

He wears a collar around his neck made of your ten fingers, flexing every time he passes over a particularly sensitive spot. You sit in the lap of a god and he lets you make a throne of him, lets you whine with every little turn of your hips against his hand, lets you stroke his hair and kiss his brow, his cheek, his jaw, as if he is a mortal lover and not a supernova wearing the veneer of a person. Pet, he calls you. His little human pet– yet he looks up at you as if you’re his master, as if this is an indulgence he will never have his fill of. You wonder: if you kissed him right now, would you taste your name on his lips?

“More?”

You nod. “A little bit.”

He lifts his hips off the armchair, rearranging your bodies down the seat so his torso is reclined and you can lean against him. The new angle lets you drag your hips back and forth in a rolling motion and it’s – blinding. Enough to make your head fall forward onto his shoulder, and for the stitching in the armchair to begin to work itself free under your magic.

“What…” His neck is damp with sweat against your nose. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking,” he grits out, “about how hot your little human cunt is, and how you’re going to feel when I fill you properly. When I get to put my cock to this spot and not my fingers.”

It’s so vile an image that your brain blanks. Your skin crawls like television static in the most delicious way, arousal usurping all other sensation until you’re mindless with it. “That–” you can’t really form sentences anymore, with how tight your chest is. “That sounds great.”

“Great?”

“It’s– perfect.”

“Sound certain, poppet. If I’m to give you–”

“Loki, please .”

“Oh, too many syllables?”

You should have anticipated that Loki would use sex as another method to mess with you. To turn you into a mouse, cornered by a cat’s claws. “Please. Make me come, and then…”

He kisses you sharply. “And then…?”

The circles he’s rubbing inside of you grow wider, pressing deeper.

“Lo-ki,” you whine.

He mimics your tone, whining each syllable of your name back to you. “Ye-es.”

“Please. Please.”

Loki hums, finally speeding up both hands until he finds a suitable rhythm. Whatever snide complaint you were going to make is cut off around a silent moan as your whole body tenses, and your hands grope the muscles in his back for support.

“Come, my darling.”

It’s short but lovely; your eyes squeeze shut and all thought drifts from your mind. You can hear him laughing distantly, enjoying the spectacle. Once your eyes are able to open again, the laughter is gone but his smile remains.

His fingers continue to circle your clit absentmindedly; your hips twist, trying to escape his touch, but Loki manages to chase you, prolonging your orgasm until you’re sniffling, blinking tears out of your eyes against his sweat-damp neck. You think, for a horrified second, that he means to pick back up, to wring another climax out of you. Finally, he slides his fingers from your cunt with an embarrassing squelch.

“Exquisite.”

“I need a minute.”

“Absolutely captivating.” He’s panting, his mouth open to taste you on the air. “Now give us a kiss, hmm?”

Before your mouths can connect, a knocking sound rattles the frame of the house. You nearly tumble out of Loki’s lap, only caught by his hand around your elbow at the last second. Where the awkwardness had once been sexy, now it only makes you uncomfortable.

Loki’s seidr whispers in your ear while it redresses you. You’re strangely disappointed to realize that, in the process of cleaning you up, he’s dried his hands of any evidence of your orgasm. Gone is the sheen of sweat, of come, of spit. He is perfectly, wholly, completely dry.

He crosses the room in a few long strides, pulling the door open with a perfectly-calculated ease. “Yes, brother?”

Thor narrows his eyes. “We’re looking for a certain Midgardian avenger.”

“Now that you mention it, a stray has gotten lost in my library. Perhaps she has a collar to identify her. What did you say her name was again?”

Tony hollers from the driver’s seat of his car, whose bolts seem ready to give way under the force of the bass being pumped out through the stereo. “What kind of nefarious deeds were you up to, Laufeyson?”

Loki leans his arms on the top of the door jamb, straightening to his full height. “Only the most evil of them.”

You slip out through the space between the threshold and Loki’s bicep, hoping no one will notice when you straighten your shirt collar. “What’s the problem?”

“Extraterrestrial anomaly has touched down about 40 miles off the coast. All hands on deck until we figure out if it’s a friendly or not.” Tony examines his hand, idly snapping one of his repulsor gloves into place. It whirs as it loads, and then a bolt of light is arcing through the air toward nothing.

Disappointment curls in your belly. You had hoped to shirk responsibility and return to Loki's armchair (or his bed, if you were extra optimistic). It seems you really were dreaming, only it was a waking dream, not a sleeping one -- it's time to return to the land of rational thought, to tuck your love away until another quiet moment arrives. “I have a kit in the jet. We’ll make a pit stop and then we can go check it out.”

Loki catches you by the sleeve before you can descend the porch. He’s still standing in the doorway, his expression troubled. You hear the creak of wood under his fingers – holding himself back again, as if the threshold is a barrier he isn’t willing to cross. Before you can ask him any questions, he kisses you. Just a short, chaste thing.

You ignore Tony when he faux gags, loud enough to be heard over the gunmetal gnashing through the speakers. “What was that for?”

Loki doesn’t respond. He just manifests his helmet and slides it into place, obscuring his eyes from your sight. And then– he’s off, taking the stairs two at a time with a warning jab when his brother flashes the headlights.

#loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki smut

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literaryvein-reblogs · 26 days ago

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Do you have any superpower/theme ideas for villains?

Writing Ideas: Villain Superpowers & Themes

Complete Immortality - Control over one's own death, or major injury.

Energy Absorption - Considering how many heroes wield a great deal of strength and power, one of the best challenges to them is villains who can absorb their energy. The power to absorb energy has also featured in villains like the Lord Beyond the Void, Major Force, Absorbing Man, and hellish beings who can steal souls. Some villains have a dependency on the powers of other beings, which makes them effectively energy vampires — not to mention the likes of Galactus, who feed on entire worlds.

Intangibility - More commonly thought of as the ability to “walk through walls.” Intangible means “not capable of being touched.” (E.g., Loki from Marvel Comics)

Magic - Gives its users the power to do anything and the further one walks down the magical path, the more temptation they find. They say power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, and magic can give its user that kind of strength. Most humans shouldn't be given the keys to the natural world, and even using their power in small ways to get their way can lead to becoming a monster. Magic users come in both moral alignments, but even the good ones know that the arcane is a possible road to darkness. Scarlet Witch is a perfect example; for many years, her connection to the elder god Chthon and the Darkhold drove her mad long before her reality-altering powers did. Then there's someone like Baron Mordo, who sees magic as a road to power.

Magnetism/Ferrokenesis - In everyday speech, magnetism often refers to “strong attractive power or charm.” But when it comes to superpowers, magnetism is the ability to use and manipulate magnetic phenomena. Complicated supervillain Magneto is the classic example of a mutant with this power. He is able to bend metal to his will.

Meta Power - Control over an opponent's abilities.

Mind Control - Control over an opponent's mind. It is a power that is basically impossible not to abuse. By its very nature, mind control violates consent. Even if a person started using it in seemingly benign ways - for example, making someone at a bank give them money - there are still consequences to it. Mind control makes people look like puppets to the person with the power, and that's an attitude that would lead anyone to villainy.

Omniscience - Allows someone to know everything. In the real world that would drive anyone crazy. Intelligent people often lose touch with the people around them and knowing everything, all the time, would be even worse. Eventually, that kind of knowledge would bring madness.

People Puppets - Control over an opponent's body.

Reality Warper - Control over reality itself.

Shape-Shifting - This has allowed villains to spy on their worst enemies, steal secrets, and divide relationships. Many villainous powers are a reflection of negative traits, so it makes complete sense that the highest form of deception would be a common power among bad guys. Shape-shifting can make for some brilliant detective stories, as well as a genuine way for villains to infiltrate superhero teams and divide from within.

Space Master - Control over space itself.

Superintelligence - Allows one to feel like a god, and for some people that feeling is addictive. Lex Luthor is a perfect example. Luthor could easily save the world, but he instead chooses to try to destroy Superman. The ability to create anything, to solve any problem can drive any normal person to evil. Suddenly, problems just become things to solve and the fastest way to solve them is often the best, no matter what it costs others.

Time Master - Control over time itself.

Touch of Death - Control over death itself.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

You can find more in the sources. Hope this helps with your writing!

#villain #writing ideas #superpowers #fantasy #writeblr #literature #writing reference #dark academia #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #light academia #writing inspiration #writing resources

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amethystarachnid · 6 months ago

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hi! i hope im not too late but can i request lost holiday spirit for loki x female reader?

maybe it could go something like loki and (avenger) reader both live at the tower and aren’t that close but reader hears about lokis lost holiday spirit and tries to get him to celebrate christmas in really cute ways and they end up together at the end? maybe due to some mistletoe and loki ends up celebrating christmas with the rest of the avengers. thank you!!

MR. GRINCH - part I

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 3.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Part II

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 Avengers Tower sparkles like a snow globe come to life. Twinkling lights are draped over every railing and banister, a giant Christmas tree dominates the common room, and stockings hang above the roaring fireplace, despite its purely decorative function. You flit around like a sugar-fueled elf, adjusting ornaments, humming along to Mariah Carey, and basking in the glow of your favorite time of year.

Your enthusiasm is infectious to most. Tony grumbles about the electricity bill but still orders another dozen boxes of lights. Steve pretends to roll his eyes but secretly joins you for late-night cocoa sessions by the tree. Even Natasha doesn’t protest when you drape a little tinsel around her chair.

Loki, however, is a different story.

The resident God of Mischief is an enigma at the best of times. His presence at the Tower is still a relatively new and tentative arrangement, a diplomatic olive branch between Asgard and Earth. You’re not sure if he’s here to redeem himself, learn from Thor, or just avoid Odin’s wrath. Either way, he’s the ultimate Grinch in your holiday wonderland.

You first notice it when he steps into the kitchen one frosty morning. You’re perched on a stool, munching on gingerbread cookies and debating whether the kitchen needs a wreath (it does). Loki glides in, all dark robes and haughty demeanor, and pauses mid-stride when he spots the garlands you hung around the cabinets.

“What is this excessive display?” he asks, his voice dripping with disdain.

You blink. “Christmas decorations.”

He narrows his eyes as if you’ve just declared your allegiance to an enemy kingdom. “Why?”

“Why?” You repeat, incredulous. “Because it’s Christmas! It’s festive and joyful and magical. Why wouldn’t you want decorations?”

“Because,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child, “it is frivolous and nonsensical. A mortal invention to distract from the bleakness of winter.”

You gasp, clutching a cookie to your chest as though he’s just insulted your firstborn. “You don’t like Christmas?”

“I don’t dislike it,” he replies coolly. “I am indifferent.”

Indifferent. To Christmas. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not just an opinion—it’s an affront to everything you hold dear.

“Loki,” you say, your tone turning serious. “You can’t live here, surrounded by all this cheer, and not feel even a tiny bit of joy. I won’t allow it.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I was unaware my emotional state required your approval.”

“It does now,” you announce. “Because I’ve just decided that you’re my new project.”

His lips twitch, almost forming a smirk. “A project?”

“Yes. I’m going to make you fall in love with Christmas.”

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to accomplish such a feat?” His voice drips with sarcasm, but you detect a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You grin, undeterred. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Day One

The next morning, Loki walks into the living room to find you perched by the stereo, scrolling through your phone. He doesn’t need to ask what you’re doing—Bing Crosby croons “White Christmas” as your grin widens.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you chirp. “I’ve made a Christmas playlist for the Tower, and I’m sure you’re going to love it.”

“Highly unlikely.”

Ignoring him, you press play, and the room fills with the unmistakable harmonies of Wham!’s Last Christmas. Loki sighs loudly, but you’re already dancing around him, singing off-key and attempting to get him to join in.

“You might as well embrace it,” you say. “There’s no escaping Christmas music in December. Resistance is futile.”

“I am not ‘resisting.’” He makes air quotes that somehow look aristocratic. “I simply fail to see the appeal.”

“Come on,” you coax. “Even you must have some fondness for a holiday that inspires such happy tunes.”

Loki regards you as if you’ve sprouted antlers. “My ‘fondness,’ if it exists, is reserved for silence.”

You pout dramatically. “Not even a little head bop?”

He ignores you, sweeping past toward the library. But later, when you catch him humming faintly under his breath—whether to mock you or not—you count it as a small victory.

Day Two

Your next strategy involves decorating the massive tree in the common room. Everyone else is busy, so you commandeer Loki, much to his chagrin.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, holding a string of lights like it’s a venomous snake.

“You’re tall,” you counter. “And I need help with the top branches.”

With great reluctance, he levitates to reach the higher sections. His magic comes in handy, and despite his complaints, you catch him inspecting the ornaments with genuine curiosity.

“What is the purpose of these trinkets?” he asks, turning a glittery bauble over in his hands.

“They’re not trinkets—they’re memories,” you explain. “See this one?” You point to a slightly crooked star. “Steve made it during his first Christmas in the Tower.”

Loki snorts softly. “It’s hideous.”

“Hey! It has character.”

You work side by side for an hour, and though he pretends to hate every moment, you catch him smirking when you struggle to untangle a particularly stubborn string of lights. By the time the tree is finished, it’s a masterpiece of shimmering ornaments and warm golden lights.

“You did good, Mischief,” you say, nudging his arm. “Admit it—you had fun.”

“I did no such thing,” he replies, but his tone lacks its usual venom.

Day Three

You escalate your efforts with a Christmas movie marathon, complete with a platter of cookies and the richest hot cocoa you can muster. Loki takes one sip and eyes you suspiciously.

“What is this concoction?”

“Hot chocolate,” you say, waving a candy cane for emphasis. “A Christmas essential.”

He takes another cautious sip. Then another. When the cup is empty, you wordlessly slide him a second.

You spend the evening watching Home Alone and Elf. Loki scoffs at the absurdity but doesn’t leave the room. You can’t tell if it’s the cocoa or the ridiculous antics of Will Ferrell that keep him seated, but you’ll take it.

By the time December 5th rolls around, you’re cautiously optimistic. Sure, Loki still rolls his eyes at your caroling and glares at mistletoe like it’s cursed, but there’s a softness in his demeanor. A flicker of something you can’t quite place.

And if he lingers a little longer by the tree at night, bathed in its golden glow, you don’t mention it. Not yet, anyway.

Day Four

You’ve discovered Loki’s Achilles’ heel, and it’s not his ego or his penchant for dramatics. It’s hot cocoa. Rich, creamy, decadent hot cocoa. Since the movie night, he’s been making increasingly frequent appearances in the kitchen whenever you’re whipping up a batch.

Today, you’re prepared.

You’ve set up a veritable hot cocoa bar: steaming milk, bowls of chocolate shavings, marshmallows, whipped cream, and even a jar of crushed peppermint. When Loki strolls in, feigning nonchalance, his gaze lands on the spread and narrows suspiciously.

“What is this?” he asks, though his tone betrays faint curiosity.

“It’s called variety,” you reply, grinning. “I figured if you’re going to keep stealing my cocoa, you might as well have options.”

“Stealing is an exaggeration,” he counters, but he steps closer, eyeing the setup. “What is the purpose of… these?” He gestures at the candy canes like they might attack him.

“Toppings! You can customize your drink.”

You demonstrate by ladling hot cocoa into a mug, adding a mountain of whipped cream, and delicately balancing a candy cane on the rim. Loki watches, his expression unreadable, before taking the ladle himself. He prepares a cup with precise movements, eschewing the whipped cream and opting instead for a sprinkling of chocolate shavings.

He takes a cautious sip. His expression remains stoic, but the way his eyes briefly close in satisfaction doesn’t escape your notice.

“Good, right?” you prod.

He nods minutely, still cradling the mug. You bite back a triumphant grin and lean against the counter, watching him sip the drink like it’s an elixir of the gods. Which, to be fair, it might as well be.

“You know,” you say casually, “you’re starting to get the hang of this Christmas thing.”

He snorts. “Do not mistake my tolerance for enthusiasm.”

But there’s no bite in his words, and you’re certain you’ve won another tiny battle.

Day Five

You decide to escalate your plan with a baking session. After all, what’s Christmas without cookies? Loki is less than thrilled when you inform him of this.

“You expect me to assist you with… baking?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yes,” you reply cheerfully, tossing him an apron. “Think of it as alchemy. But delicious.”

He glares at the apron like it’s made of nettles. “This is beneath me.”

“Oh, come on,” you cajole. “You’ve got magic. Surely you can handle a little dough.”

He grumbles but ties the apron on with a dramatic flourish. The sight of Loki, Prince of Asgard and God of Mischief, wearing a plaid apron that reads “Santa’s Favorite Helper” is almost enough to make you collapse in laughter, but you wisely keep it to yourself.

The baking session is… an adventure. Loki’s “assistance” involves levitating ingredients and conjuring unnecessary bursts of green light for dramatic effect. At one point, he grows bored and attempts to enchant the cookie dough, resulting in a sentient lump that tries to crawl off the counter.

“Loki!” you shriek, swatting at the rogue dough with a spatula. “This is not what I meant by teamwork!”

He smirks, watching your struggle with barely concealed amusement. “You did say I should use my talents.”

By some miracle, you manage to wrangle the dough back into submission. When the cookies finally emerge from the oven, golden and fragrant, you plop one onto a plate and shove it toward Loki.

“Taste it,” you demand.

He takes a cautious bite, his expression neutral. Then he takes another, slower bite.

“Well?” you press, bouncing on your heels.

“Adequate,” he says, but the way he reaches for a second cookie says otherwise.

Day Seven

It snows overnight, blanketing the city in a layer of white. The morning brings a rare moment of quiet in the Tower. You’re staring out the window, a steaming mug of cocoa in hand, when Loki appears beside you.

“Do you often waste time staring at frozen precipitation?” he asks, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

“It’s beautiful,” you say simply. “Have you ever played in the snow?”

He looks at you like you’ve suggested he jump into the Hudson River. “Play?”

“Yeah. You know, snow angels, snowball fights, building a snowman?”

“You forget that I hail from Jotunheim,” he says dryly. “I am quite familiar with snow.”

“Great,” you say, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the door. “Then you’re already a pro.”

Despite his protests, you manage to drag him outside. The courtyard is pristine, untouched by footsteps, and you can’t resist flopping down to make a snow angel. Loki stands over you, his arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed.

“You’re missing out,” you tell him, brushing snow off your gloves.

“Am I?”

You decide to take matters into your own hands—literally. Scooping up a handful of snow, you pack it into a ball and lob it at him. It hits him square in the chest.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then he looks down at the snow on his robes, then back at you, his expression unreadable.

“You dare?” he says softly.

“I dare,” you reply, grinning.

What follows is an all-out snowball war. Loki cheats, of course, conjuring multiple snowballs at once and launching them with precision. You counter with a combination of speed and sheer determination, laughing so hard your sides ache.

By the time you call a truce, you’re both soaked and breathless. Loki’s hair is damp, and there’s snow clinging to his robes, but his eyes are bright, his lips curved into a genuine smile.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him look truly happy.

Day Ten

You’re sitting by the fire, sipping yet another mug of cocoa, when Loki joins you unprompted. He’s carrying his own mug, which you’re fairly certain he made himself—a small but significant victory.

“You’ve been unusually persistent,” he says, settling into the chair beside you.

“It’s called holiday spirit,” you reply with a grin. “And I’m rubbing off on you. Admit it.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gazes at the twinkling lights on the tree, his expression thoughtful.

“I will admit,” he says slowly, “that there is… a certain charm to this season. Though your methods are insufferable.”

You laugh, raising your mug in a mock toast. “I’ll take it.”

For the first time since you started this endeavor, you feel like you’ve genuinely reached him. And as you sit there, sharing the quiet warmth of the fire, you realize that maybe—just maybe—Loki is starting to believe in the magic of Christmas after all.

Day Eleven

The fireplace mantel remains unfinished—a glaring imperfection in your otherwise flawless Christmas wonderland. You’ve been putting it off, unsure of how to best arrange the garlands, candles, and lights. This morning, however, you find Loki standing in front of it, arms crossed, a contemplative look on his face.

“Are you admiring my handiwork?” you tease, stepping up beside him.

“I’m considering how to fix it,” he replies. “It’s… lopsided.”

You tilt your head, squinting at the decorations. “It’s supposed to look whimsical.”

“It looks haphazard,” he counters, glancing down at you with a faint smirk.

“Fine, Mr. Perfect. Show me how you’d do it.”

What starts as a playful challenge turns into a surprisingly intimate collaboration. Loki’s hands brush against yours as he passes you a strand of lights, his touch sending an unexpected warmth up your arm. He leans close to adjust a garland, his voice low as he critiques your “questionable” taste in ribbon colors.

By the time the mantel is complete, the room feels cozier—not just from the flickering candlelight but from the unspoken connection simmering between you.

“Admit it,” you say softly. “This was fun.”

Loki’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary. “Moderately enjoyable,” he murmurs, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

Day Thirteen

You’re perched on a ladder in the common room, attempting to hang a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling beam. The ladder wobbles precariously, and just as you’re about to lose your balance, strong hands grip your waist, steadying you.

“Careful,” Loki chides, his voice unusually gentle.

You glance down at him, your heart racing—not just from the near fall. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering as he helps you down from the ladder. When your feet touch the ground, you realize just how close you are. The mistletoe dangles above you, unnoticed, as you find yourself caught in his intense gaze.

“Traditionally,” Loki says, his voice dropping to a velvet whisper, “there’s a custom associated with this particular plant.”

You swallow hard, your cheeks heating. “Oh, yeah? I hadn’t noticed.”

His lips curve into a sly smile, but he steps back, breaking the moment. “Perhaps next time,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s teasing or serious.

Your pulse remains uneven long after he’s gone.

Day Fifteen

You can’t sleep. The glow of the Christmas tree calls to you, and you find yourself padding into the common room, wrapped in a blanket. To your surprise, Loki is already there, seated on the couch with a book in hand.

“Can’t sleep either?” you ask, settling into the armchair across from him.

He closes the book, regarding you with a softness you’ve come to recognize in these quiet moments. “I find the stillness… agreeable.”

The conversation flows easily, shifting from light banter to deeper topics. He talks about Asgardian winters, and you share memories of childhood Christmases. There’s an openness to him tonight, a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

At one point, you notice him watching you intently, his gaze tracing your features as if committing them to memory. “What is it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve met,” he says, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard. “Your insistence on joy, your… stubborn optimism. It’s infuriating. And yet…”

“And yet?” you prompt, your heart pounding.

He leans forward slightly, the space between you charged with unspoken possibilities. “And yet, I find myself drawn to it. To you.”

The admission leaves you breathless. You don’t know what to say, so you settle for a soft smile, hoping it conveys everything you’re feeling.

Day Seventeen

A freak snowstorm traps everyone inside the Tower. While most of the team grumbles about canceled plans, you can’t help but see it as an opportunity. You organize a board game marathon, but when Loki declines to participate, you seek him out in his room.

“Too good for Monopoly?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe.

“I prefer my games to involve a certain level of sophistication,” he replies, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“Come on,” you coax. “It’ll be fun.” But when you understand the won't give in you try another tactic, just sto spend time with him. "Teach me chess instead,” you say, pulling a dusty board from a shelf.

The two of you spend hours by the fire, the snowstorm raging outside, as he teaches you the intricacies of the game. His patience surprises you, as does the way he occasionally lets you win, though he denies it every time.

At some point, you realize you’re no longer focused on the game. Instead, you’re studying the way his hair falls over his shoulders, the way his lips curve when he’s explaining a strategy.

“You’re not paying attention,” he accuses, though his tone is amused.

“Sorry,” you murmur, feeling your cheeks heat.

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps I’m more distracting than the game.”

You don’t deny it.

Day Twenty

The Tower is quiet after dinner, most of the team having retreated to their rooms. You and Loki are the last ones in the common room, the tree lights casting soft shadows across his features.

“You’ve done well,” he says, nodding toward the decorations. “This place feels… alive.”

“Thanks to you,” you reply, nudging his shoulder. “You helped more than you’d like to admit.”

“I admit nothing,” he says, though there’s a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

You fall into a comfortable silence, the air between you heavy with unspoken tension. When he reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, your breath catches. His fingers linger, his gaze dropping to your lips.

For a moment, time seems to stop. You’re certain he’s going to kiss you, and you lean in ever so slightly, your heart pounding. But then—

“Y/N!” Tony’s voice booms from the hallway, shattering the moment.

You both pull back, flustered, as Tony strides into the room, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I swear he has the worst timing,” you mutter after Tony leaves.

Loki smirks, but there’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Indeed.”

Day Twenty-Four

The Tower hums with a warm energy on Christmas Eve. The team is gathered around the massive tree in the common room, the scent of pine mingling with the aroma of spiced cider and freshly baked cookies. You sit cross-legged on the floor beside Loki, the two of you half-listening as Thor attempts to recount a boisterous Asgardian holiday tradition.

Despite the chaos around you—Steve trying to untangle fairy lights, Clint stealing cookies from the tray, and Tony programming a robotic Santa to distribute presents—you feel grounded. Loki’s presence beside you has a magnetic pull, and you find yourself sneaking glances at him every few moments.

He looks relaxed, a rarity for the God of Mischief. His usual sharp edges seem softer tonight, the flickering glow of the fireplace highlighting his high cheekbones and the glint in his emerald eyes.

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask quietly, leaning slightly toward him.

His lips curve into a faint smirk. “More than I expected.”

The gift exchange begins, the room filling with laughter and playful banter as everyone tears into their wrapping paper. You watch with amusement as Natasha tries not to laugh at the gaudy scarf Clint has given her, and Bruce chuckles at the chemistry-themed mug he receives.

Loki remains apart from the main commotion, though his eyes sparkle with quiet amusement. As the night winds down, the others begin to retreat to their rooms, leaving the two of you alone by the tree.

“You didn’t join the exchange,” you say, turning to him.

“I prefer to give gifts with intention,” he replies, reaching into his pocket.

He produces a small, elegantly wrapped box and hands it to you. “For you.”

Your heart stutters as you carefully undo the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside lies a delicate silver charm bracelet, each charm meticulously chosen: a snowflake, a steaming mug of cocoa, a tiny chess piece, and a star. You recognize each one as a symbol of a moment you’ve shared this month.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, your fingers trembling slightly as you lift it from the box.

“I thought you might appreciate a memento of your… relentless holiday enthusiasm,” Loki says, though his tone is soft, almost vulnerable.

“I love it,” you say, looking up at him with a wide smile. “Thank you.”

You hesitate for a moment, then reach for the small gift bag you’d hidden earlier. “I, uh, got you something too.”

He raises an eyebrow but accepts the bag, pulling out the contents with a curious expression. Inside is a beautifully bound leather journal, embossed with intricate patterns that remind you of Asgardian designs.

“For your thoughts,” you explain, suddenly shy. “Or plans, or whatever it is you write about. I thought you might like it.”

His fingers brush over the cover reverently. “It’s… thoughtful,” he says, his voice unusually gentle.

Before you can reply, a movement above catches your eye. You tilt your head back and groan. “Oh no.”

Loki follows your gaze, his expression shifting into one of amusement as he spots the sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you.

“Ah,” he murmurs, his smirk returning. “The infamous custom.”

You open your mouth to say something witty, but the words evaporate as Loki steps closer, his gaze fixed on yours. The air between you feels charged, and your heart hammers in your chest.

“Wouldn’t want to break tradition,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes.

Before you can second-guess yourself, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, unhurried, and yet it sends a spark through your entire body. His hand finds your cheek, his touch warm against your skin, and you melt into him, forgetting everything else in the world.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless. Loki’s hand lingers on your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone.

“Mistletoe,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Convenient,” he replies, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile.

The two of you stand there for a moment, the world around you quiet and still. You glance down at the bracelet on your wrist, then back up at Loki, and you can’t help but think that this is the best Christmas Eve you’ve ever had.

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shamrockqueen · 3 months ago

Text

Miscellaneous characters

Nines DBH

Getting Your Attention : Nines x Partner/Detective Reader PWP R18

Logan Howlett

Silver Fox : Salt and Pepper Logan Howlett X Reader PWP R18

Loki

Frost Fairy : Fae King Loki x Fairy Reader PWP R18

Fae King Loki : PWP Loki X Reader R18

COD

Ghost

Birdie : Ghost X reader PWP R18

Konig

Silent in the night : Konig X Reader PWP R18

The Boys

Soldier Boy

Dark Room : Herogasm Soldier Boy X Supe Reader R18

Homelander

Temperament : Roman AU Roman Emperor Homelander X Servant Reader R18

- Route 69

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det-loki · 3 months ago

Text

hazy and home. detective loki x fem!reader

18+ smut!

a/n: I wrote smut. I've never written smut. Let a girl yearn 🤷🏻‍♀️ if this is bad, jk wasn't me.

The shower is scalding, steam fogging up the mirror, making your breath feel heavy and slow. You don't move, just standing as the water rushes over you. Your skin is pink and numb by now, you like it. Crave it, the no feeling of nothingness. The shower curtain rustles, a tattooed hand reaches in, pushing the plastic aside and then there he is.

Standing tall in front of you, already naked, eyes dark and stormy. He takes a step forward, you, one back. Your eyes meet, you need no words yet his name passes your lips anyway, "David." A prayer. A plea.

He steps forward again, your back meeting the cool tile behind you, you flinch against it, though David was prepared, arms already out to greet you, warm you from the assaultingly cold tile. His arms wrap around you, secure and strong, his now dampened hair dripping onto your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck, "Right here, baby."

Neither of you move, just holding each other in the heat and haze of the shower, breathing slow. A slow touch here, a nudge there and suddenly your brain is fuzzy and you're kissing his shoulder, still tucked into him. His arms unwind themselves from you, one hand coming up to cup your jaw, the other ghosting down over your collarbone, your breast, your stomach. Calloused fingers find your clit, slow and soft. You gasp involuntarily at the contact, thighs instinctively parting to give him space.

And space he takes. His soft touches turn more intense, building speed, your face pressed into his neck as you cling to him, at his mercy. His fingers slow against you, sliding down to find your slick entrance, one finger teasing, pressing into you before sliding back out, tantalizingly slow. You whimper against his neck, even though you know no amount of begging will rush him. You're his in this moment. His to play with, his to pleasure. His to worship. He'll take his time, unraveling you until you're shaking against him. His lone finger becomes two, pushing into you slowly, savoring the way you welcome him, stretching wet and warm.

His fingers settle slowly inside you, pulling back out to push back in with more purpose, gaining pace as you clench around him, gasping and whining into his shoulder, "Please, please, Loki." You feel him smile into you hair but he says nothing, only continuing to finger you, harder and faster. The sound of your pleasure mixes with the sound of the shower, your pants and moans of pleasure.

Loki feels your pussy flutter and clench around his fingers, he slows slightly, curling his fingers into you, making you take it, savor it. His fingers hook into you, pressing into the spot that has you seeing stars, your legs buckling under you, leaving into him heavily now as you hiccup on pleasure. He's satisfied now, he's played enough. He'll let you have it, let you cum with his fingers buried deep inside you, stretching and full, of him. His. His. His.

He mumbles into your ear, hot and breathy, "Come for baby, let me have it." Your orgasm crashes over you, breath catching, legs shaking, your hand flying down to grab his wrist as he guides you through the waves of pleasure, holding you upright as your release drips from his hand.

Once you're breathing returns back to normal and you can feel your legs, Lori gently guides you out of the sanctuary of the shower, wrapping you in a towel. He moves slow, knowing once you both leave this bathroom, reality returns. Dark and ever-present horrors of the world await you, but right now, you're warm and you're his. And he, yours.

He moves from you, lets you lean into him, catching your breath, kisses your face, your lips, mumbling, "Such a good girl for me, did so good."

#star wrote smut! alert the press!#detective loki #detective loki x reader #prisoners

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gyllenhaalstuff · 5 months ago

Note

Heyy

been following your account for a while, i like it

Can I request a David Loki x fem reader? Where the woman is like, she kind of has issues with the way her body looks, stretch marks on her thighs, rough hands from work, trying to stay as skinny as possible and David’s comforting her? Kissing everything she doesn’t like about herself to make her feel loved? It could be a smut fic.

thank youu either way

I tried my best! Though, I strayed a little bit from some parts (sorry!)

Mind-numb

- Detective Loki

Summary: You’re feeling bad about yourself and your boyfriend tries his best to make you feel better

Warnings: Negative self talk, body image issues, short brief smut (oral f receiving), otherwise just fluffy.

Word count: 1037

Notes: I love writing requests. And I refer to Loki by his first name in this, I feel like these two are way past second name basis.

—

You were sitting on the bed in your bath towel when David came home from work. Your hair still dripping.

Dripping down your skin. The skin you oftentimes couldn’t stand. It was almost claustrophobic, suffocating.

“Hi honey,” David stuck his head through the door. Still in his uniform, hair slicked back. He looked tired but so happy to be home.

He changed into a sweater and sweats before coming up to hug you. There was nothing worse to him than working long shifts; he hated being away from you. “I’m still wet,” you said with a smile, jokingly protesting, as David pulled you into his chest. “Don’t care,” he whispered against your hair.

You tensed in his arms. You felt out of place, not deserving. Even though David was the kindest man there ever was, you felt scared he was unhappy with you, with your body and all its imperfections.

David wasn’t good with handling feelings, neither his own nor others. The boys home didn’t really focus on teaching the kids emotional vulnerability, but he tried his best for you in times like this. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked gently, stroking your back. “Don’t like myself,” you sniffled in response.

It broke his heart every time he saw you like this. His detective brain just wanted to solve it and make it all okay, but he couldn’t. “Well, I like you,” he whispered back, “all of you.”

“But my stretch marks and my arms and my—“ you started rambling before stopping yourself. David didn’t deserve to listen to all that.

David grabbed your hand and began kissing your knuckles. “My hands are rough,” you pointed out. Insulting yourself so if he did it, it wouldn’t hurt as much (he never did). “If I ever complain about that, just kill me on the spot… Friction never hurt anyone,” he snickered at that before saying a quick sorry. Time and place, David! he thought to himself. A quiet moment passed.

“Let me take care of you.” Even though he just got home from work, nothing calmed him more than making sure you were alright. “You don’t have to do that.” You looked at him, his dark circles making you feel bad. You should be making him dinner or rubbing out the knots in his shoulders, not burdening him.

“I don’t have to do anything,” David said and laid back against the headboard, opening his arms, inviting you to come lay down with him. You obliged and curled up next to him, resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered meekly. Your head rose and fell along with his breathing. Nothing could feel safer than this; nothing could feel more like home. “If it was up to me,” David started, “You’d never worry about your body again.” He knew this wouldn’t change a thing, but he wanted you to know how he felt.

His words went in one ear and out the other, your brain still stirring. “But I don’t want you to lose your attraction to me.” No, that was it. David almost chuckled; the scenario was too absurd. “I’m purposely not looking at the arch of your back right now so I won’t get turned on,” he confessed, hoping that might register in you. And it did a little.

You looked up with him, trying to look unbothered, but your eyes had gotten some sparkle back. “Really?”

David shrugged, jokingly playing nonchalant before telling you yes. You finally smiled a little, and David thought he might die from relief.

“In a perfect world I’d be touching you all the time.” His hands grazed the curve of your waist as he spoke. “I could never get enough of you.” His hand lingered on your hip before giving it a squeeze. His thumb stroked your stretch marks as his mind ran wild.

Your heart was beginning to lighten. His hands on you were the ultimate validation. David looked down on you before grabbing your chin, tilting your head up, and kissing you. “I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbled against your lips. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Is this making you feel better?” he asked, his worst nightmare being crossing a boundary. You nodded; you were definitely feeling better. When you didn’t like yourself, it felt so nice knowing that David did.

You ended up in his spot with your back against one of the pillows while David let his hands roam your thighs and hips. Sometimes his mouth replaced one of them to kiss and nip at your skin. “You’re too pretty,” he repeated between kisses, not wanting your mind to slip back into the darkness.

Him worshiping you made you blush. Both because of how flattered you were and also because a tiny part of you felt bad for him. A part that would go away completely, for a while at least, once he removed your towel completely and moved his mouth from your outer to your inner thighs.

His stubble scratched against your sensitive skin, and you could see why the friction from your rough, calloused hands never bothered him.

David would rather get drunk on you than anything else. His exhausted, overworked brain finally took a backseat and let him do whatever he wanted, which was always this. He was almost sure that if he were to get selected for a randomized drug test at work after eating you out, he’d be fired once the results came back.

His hands grabbed desperately at your hips and waist as he buried his tongue in you. And after you came, he carefully licked you clean before kissing the marks from the harsh grip he had held on you.

“You’re too nice,” you told him once he laid back down beside you. “Don’t think I didn’t need that just as much as you did,” he said back.

You two shared a late pasta dinner on the couch that night. He cooked it while you laid on the couch watching mind-numbing reality TV. And when you had finished your meal, you fell asleep on his shoulder while watching the new Netflix true crime documentary, and his heart tripled in size. He kissed your forehead and carried you to bed.

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal smut #fanfiction #smut #detective loki x reader #detective loki #detective loki fanfic #detective loki fanfiction #detective loki smut #fluff #prisoners #prisoners fanfic

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flowersforthosewhoneeds · 3 months ago

Text

Lost in the dark.

yk the drill...

Part 6 of "I wish i was her "

youtube

“Gone?”

The word barely left Loki’s lips before his entire body trembled with rage.

Thor and the Avengers stood frozen at the site of the mission, scanning the wreckage, but it didn’t matter. Loki could feel it in his bones whoever had taken you had used magic. And powerful magic at that.

Loki’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms so hard they nearly drew blood. His breath was sharp, unsteady.

“She was here,” Thor murmured, examining the bloodstained ground. “Moments ago.”

“Then where is she now?” Loki snapped, his voice shaking with fury. His emerald eyes burned, his magic flaring wildly around him.

Tony exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Friday, give me something.”

“I regret to inform you that her signal is completely gone, sir,” Friday responded. “I am unable to detect any known coordinates.”

“She didn’t just vanish!” Loki roared, his voice echoing through the destruction. “Someone took her!”

The realization settled over everyone like a heavy storm.

Who had taken you? And why?

“I will rip the realms apart to find her,” Loki hissed. His fingers twitched, his entire body trembling with unbridled fury.

He had not realized it until now until the moment you were truly lost. Until the moment your last words had played over and over in his mind like a haunting melody.

"That was the last time you ever saw me..."

No.

It wouldn’t be.

Loki had lost too much already. He would not lose you too.

Without another word, he turned on his heel, his magic swelling, and he vanished into thin air.

The others barely had time to react before Thor muttered a curse. “He’s going to do something reckless.”

“No kidding,” Tony muttered, running a hand down his face. “We better move fast.”

The darkness was suffocating.

You didn’t know where you were, but the air was thick with magic something ancient, something cold. You could feel it pressing against your skin, wrapping around your broken body like invisible chains.

Your head lolled to the side as you tried to focus, but the pain was unbearable. You had lost too much blood.

Your fingers twitched weakly, grasping at the empty air.

Where am I…?

You barely registered the sound of footsteps slow, deliberate.

“You should not be awake,” a voice murmured.

You flinched at the sound. The voice was unfamiliar, distant. You tried to turn your head, but your body refused to obey.

The figure leaned down, their presence looming over you like a shadow. “Hush now, mortal. Rest while you still can.”

Something sharp pierced your skin, and before you could react, everything faded into nothingness once more.

Loki appeared in the heart of the Sanctum Sanctorum, his presence crashing into the ancient halls like a storm.

“Strange,” he barked, his eyes glowing with fury.

Doctor Stephen Strange lifted a brow, barely glancing up from his spellbook. “I assume this is urgent.”

Loki slammed a hand onto the table, rattling the objects around them. “She is gone.”

Strange’s expression barely shifted. “Who?”

Loki gritted his teeth, his magic crackling violently. “The mortal.”

Strange exhaled through his nose, closing the book in front of him. “I assume you mean your mortal.”

Loki’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Strange studied him for a moment before sighing. “Tell me everything.”

Loki relayed the events with an urgency he had never felt before. The mission. The blood. The final transmission. The fact that you had been stolen right from under them.

Strange’s brows furrowed slightly. “Magic, you say?”

Loki’s fingers twitched. “Powerful. Ancient.”

Strange hummed, walking toward one of the many relics in his possession. “That narrows it down, but not enough.”

Loki’s patience was razor-thin. “Then do something useful and find her.”

Strange glanced at him, his expression unreadable. Then, with a flick of his wrist, golden runes filled the space between them. The air shimmered, reality bending beneath Strange’s magic as he tried to trace the energy.

Loki watched, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs.

The runes shifted, forming patterns that pulsed with an eerie glow. Then suddenly they shattered.

Loki’s stomach dropped.

Strange’s expression darkened. “That’s…not good.”

Loki’s blood ran cold. “What?”

Strange turned to face him, his gaze sharp. “She’s somewhere beyond my reach.”

Loki’s hands trembled as his nails dug into his palms. “Try again.”

Strange hesitated. “Loki, if I can’t reach her, it means..”

“Try again,” Loki growled, his magic flaring violently.

Strange sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alright. But if she’s been taken by what I think she has… you won’t like the answer.”

Loki already knew he wouldn’t.

Because he could feel it now.

You were slipping further and further away.

And if he didn’t find you soon, he might never get you back..

You drifted in and out of consciousness again., your body cold, your mind hazy. The pain had dulled to a numb ache, but something felt wrong.

The air around you pulsed with magic foreign, suffocating. It slithered around your limbs like chains, pressing down on you, keeping you weak.

You could barely open your eyes, but when you did, you saw nothing but dim, flickering light. Stone walls. Heavy shadows dancing along the floor.

A voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness.

“She’s awake.”

Another voice, sharper. “Not for long.”

A hand grasped your chin, forcing your head up. Your vision blurred, but you could just make out the figure before you tall, cloaked, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

“You caused quite a stir, little mortal.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Your throat was too dry, your body too weak.

The figure tsked. “A fragile thing, yet the God of Lies is tearing through realms to find you.”

Loki.

Your heart clenched at the thought of him. Was he really looking for you? Or were you just another mission to him another duty to fulfill before he moved on, untouched and unbothered?

You swallowed hard, trying to fight the dizziness. “What… do you want?”

The figure chuckled. “Oh, it’s not about what I want. It’s about what he will do.”

A sharp pain spread through your chest as the magic constricted around you. You gasped, vision swimming.

“Let’s see how far your dear prince will go to save you.”

And with that, the darkness swallowed you whole again.

The Sanctum shook as Loki’s magic flared, slamming into the walls. Strange barely managed to reinforce the barriers in time, his hands glowing with golden energy.

“Loki, control yourself,” he snapped.

Loki was breathing heavily, his fingers twitching, barely restraining himself from tearing apart everything in his path. His jaw clenched, his eyes burning.

“She is dying somewhere,” he seethed. “And you are wasting time.”

“I’m not wasting time,” Strange said coolly. “I’m trying to keep you from shattering the multiverse out of sheer rage.”

Thor stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Brother,” he said, voice firm but laced with concern, “we will find her.”

Loki didn’t respond. His mind was consumed with the memory of your last words.

"Mission accomplished, sir. Goodbye."

A farewell. A finality that made his stomach churn. He had thought no, he had believed that mortals were fleeting, insignificant. But you? You had buried yourself under his skin, settled into the cracks of his guarded heart before he even realized it.

And now, you were slipping through his fingers.

Strange exhaled sharply. “I traced remnants of the energy that took her,” he finally said. “It’s old magic. Not Asgardian. Not even human.”

Loki’s eyes snapped to him. “Then what?”

Strange hesitated. “Something holy.”

The room fell silent.

Thor’s expression darkened. “You mean..?”

“Yes,” Strange confirmed grimly. “Celestial magic.”

Loki’s stomach twisted.

The Celestials were powerful. Unforgiving. If they had taken you

No. He wouldn’t allow himself to finish that thought.

Loki turned on his heel. “Where are they?”

Strange sighed. “That’s the problem. They exist beyond the realms we can reach easily. If you go after them, you may not come back.”

Loki’s voice was eerily calm. “Then I suggest you step aside.”

Thor frowned. “Loki..”

“Step. Aside.”

Thor’s grip on his hammer tightened, but after a long moment, he moved.

Loki’s magic flared once more, his emerald eyes burning with an emotion he refused to name.

No one took what was his and lived to tell the tale.

And the Celestials were about to learn that the hard way.

You awoke to the feeling of something warm trickling down your skin.

Blood.

Yours.

Your breathing was ragged, each inhale sending sharp pain through your ribs. You didn’t know how long you had been here hours, days? Time felt meaningless.

The voices had faded, leaving only the sound of your own breathing and the faint hum of magic around you.

You felt cold.

Too cold.

And for the first time, you wondered if Loki would really come.

Or if you would die here, alone.

Your lips parted, a broken whisper escaping.

"I'm in a getaway car... I left you in a motel bar..."

Tears blurred your vision.

"That was the last time you ever saw me."

You squeezed your eyes shut.

And then

A crackle of magic.

A shift in the air.

Your heart stuttered.

Loki?

But before you could even hope, the darkness consumed you once more....

Anyways<3 i will do some one shot while i work on this fic<3 i promise to not let you guys down!

@angelkat1013 @lokisgoodgirl @lulubelle814 @tinytroublemaker @paryl @wannabe-oblivion @bailandotuki @geeky-politics-46

#loki fanfiction #loki x reader #love #loki x y/n #marvel loki #loki odinson #angst #loki laufeyson #angst with a happy ending #fanfic #stories #god of stories #loki #please #i love him #Gods #God #Youtube

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katsona-the-katsequel · 8 months ago

Text

Personas' Unique Skills

All this talk of Maruki made me think of the special skills that individual Personas can have. These are clearly born from some strong aspect of the User. Something strong enough to define them as a person. So to determine what counts as a Unique Skill(tm) I consider the following:

No other Persona in their respective games is able to do it.

Almost never included among the skills you can use during normal combat.

Users can just use it whenever without needing to power-up or receive a boost.

It's related to the User's personality and/or journey.

Must have possessed it from the moment they awakened to their Persona. It was a package deal.

Users can or have been shown to use it passively in their daily lifes.

Off the top of my head, here are the Personas with Unique Skills, though feel free to add more if you remember any:

MOT

Belonging to Reiji, it possesses a fear aura. Unlike everyone else on this list, this actually made Reiji's life harder. Useful while trying to be an edgy teen, not so much as a salesman.

AKUMA

Belonging to Kenta, it can create desire in people. He used it to make himself a successful salesman. You gotta respect the hussle.

NIGHT QUEEN

Belonging to Tomomi, it's less of an original power it had and more what it mutated into. By separating itself from Tomomi due to the Demon Mirror, the Night Queen could (potentially) bring an "eternal night" into the world. Maybe her original skill as a Persona was a weaker version of this. Maybe darkness/shadow manipulation. Something to go with her name.

VULCAN AND APOLLO

Belonging to Tatsuya, they could slow down time and give him brief bursts of super strength. This made him ridiculously OP in Tatsuya's Scenario, soloing entire quests while the main plot was happening. Then again, he was running on NG+, so maybe it was a mix of both.

PERSEPHONE

Belonging to Musubu, it could brainwash people like a parasite, with the infected spreading the brainwashing to other people and growing stronger as the number of infected grew. Strong enough to create pocket dimensions.

PENTHESILEA AND ARTEMISIA

Belonging to Mitsuru, Penthesilea had some minor enemy-detection abilities. Just enough to know there's a threat. It also seems Mitsuru's ice skills go beyond what is normal for other Personas, manifesting in the physical world as well without the need to summon her Persona. That's a Unique Skill, alright.

LUCIA AND JUNO

Belonging to Fuuka, they have the Navi Package (get info on the enemies, sense the location of other beings, heal the party, etc). Navis might appear every game, but that doesn't make them any less unique.

MEDEA

Belonging to Chidori, it could fuck with Navis and, most importantly, heal. Chidori had one of the strongest healing powers, from people to plants to herself. Derived from this, she could also transfer some (or all) of her own life to heal someone else, even from the brink of death. Junpei would later inhereit a weaker version of this.

HIMIKO, KANZEON AND KOUZEON

Belonging to Rise, all her Personas have the Navi Package, though a bit more active than Fuuka's, mostly due to her experience and training as an idol (having to know what people want and how to please them without letting them step on you is an art).

NECRONOMICON, PROMETHEUS AND AL AZIF

Belonging to Futaba, they also have the Navi Pack, though way more active than Fuuka and Rise's, reflecting Futaba's deeper understanding of cogniton and her experience obtaining information.

LOKI

Belonging to Akechi, it could cause any being to go berserk, including himself. This power tells us that Akechi needs to get proper therapy.

AZATHOTH AND ADAM KADMON

Belonging to Maruki, they can alter a person's cognition of themselves and/or the world. The world-reaching powers he showed were the results of many shenanigans that had nothing to do with him, but it's still a pretty strong power, as shown with Rumi and Sumire.

Before anyone says anything, I count Third Eye as a gift by Yaldy rather than a natural skill. You can count it if you want, but for me its an extra thing. This also implies it's an AKIRA skill, not a PERSONA skill. Same with Minato's Great Seal. That's a MINATO skill, not a PERSONA skill (one born from having an embodiment of Death inside him for years). Both of them could still use those powers even if they didn't have access to their Personas, say, if they were reaped or something.

I truly believe every Persona has or is capable of having a Unique Skill, but either they aren't shown or the User doesn't know about it. Based on their Shadows, what unique skills would other characters have? For example, I would love to see Madarame's.

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se1en3 · 12 days ago

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🇱🇮🇳🇪🇸 🇼🇪❜🇻🇪 🇨🇷🇴🇸🇸🇪🇩

𐙚David Loki x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder, Smut

𐙚Summary: Detective Loki crosses professional boundaries with newly assigned admin assistant

*. *

The clouds casted dark shadows across the atmosphere creating a dullness to your work day, the shitty weather made it so much easier to feel stressed. You kept your hands on the steering wheel signaling to turn left before entering the parking lot to Conyers Police Department.

You've loyally been working there for a couple of years now as an administrative assistant, it wasn't amazing.. it was often quite stressful as the police department was constantly dealing with limited resources. Earlier in the year your work was dedicated to O'Malley; making phone calls, handling paperwork, organizing files and databases etc. However you were now admin assistant to Detective Loki as he was taking on more cases, he was going to need extra help with the smaller things. Your pay was raised by a couple thousand after you pleaded to O'Malley not to change departments- only because working with Detective Loki was a lot more intense and you were already heavily stressed.

Today will be exactly seven days that you've been working with David. He's a quiet guy, doesn't have much to say however he's constantly observing his surroundings. He seems patient some days but it usually gets opposed with a short temper the next day, never purposefully though. He doesn't speak much with you, only gives on word answers which is sometimes frustrating. He's very serious about his work and is dedicated to justice, which means he's always taking on the most.. which then means you have more work to do.

You parked your car close to the doors of the station as it began to lightly rain and you didn't want to get wet in the slightest. You quickly opened your car door and planned to lightly jog towards the entrance of the station. Your exit from the car was accompanied by a slight trip as your choice of heels may not have been the best idea for today. Swiftly, you made your way to the door opening it and bolting inside. The station was quiet today, many of the detectives and officers didn't have much to do opposed to Detective Loki who was currently working on a murder case.

"O'Malley." You nodded, greeting the Captain of the station while passing by his office.

"Late." He stated seeming unphased, staring at the screen of his desktop while typing away.

You peered down at your watch on your wrist and you were only late by a minute. What an asshole. You often found that in the workplace O'Malley and Loki seemed to but heads a lot of the time. Loki always seemed to push harder for justice while O'Malley was trying very hard to follow protocols by the books. You tried to keep your nose out of their business because the cases they dealt with were always quite serious.

You reached your desk in the open office area, only a couple of detectives were around today less than usual, but you spotted Loki at his desk surrounded by many papers and files. His back was hunched over and he was whispering things under his breath while chaotically scanning files. He looked stressed. You sighed to yourself wondering why you had chosen such a chaotic environment to work in. You placed your briefcase on your desk while quickly scanning some of the new papers that had been placed on it earlier this morning. Some were incident reports, arrest reports and a small sticky note with a list of phone numbers. David had placed these here however you weren't sure why completed arrest reports and incident reports were given to you.

You headed towards David's desk, your heels made a specific clicking sound on the tile floor which constantly bothered David, however he never told you about it. He turned around at the sound coming from behind him then up towards you, he then looked back down at his files as you grew closer.

"Morning, detective." You almost whispered, the work place was eerily quiet.

"Again, its David. " He reminded you. You'd made the mistake of constantly calling him detective as you were more used to working with O'Malley who had more professional expectations, however David liked to work in more personal terms. He didn't like everything done by the books.

"Right." You nodded, simply just wanting to get to your point. "Well I see you've left completed reports on my desk, what would you like me to do with them?"

"Proof read them, thanks." He muttered, back still turned to you while he was focused shuffling through the files on his desk.

"Gotcha." You responded quickly.

His back still remained turned, you wondered what case or even cases he was dealing with for him to be so focused. His breathing was slow as if he were trying very hard to understand the content he was reading, it was almost as if he was trying to put together a puzzle.

"Oh, and the phone numbers?"

"Just" He paused before turning around in his spinning chair, "Finish the reports first okay?" He asked while running a hand through his dark gelled back hair. You found yourself staring at David sometimes hoping he'd never catch you, he was very charming in your eyes and his shadowing demeanor was always attractive to you, especially that tattoo on his neck. He looked good today, he was wearing an all black outfit.

"Okay." You gave a thumbs up, hoping to lighten the mood.

In return he just gave a closed mouth smile which looked half forced, before turning around again in his spinning chair with his back faced towards you. In all honesty, he just wanted to focus on his work and the clicking of your heels and the sound of your voice started to irritate him, of course again he never said anything about it.

*. * ·

Hours had past and unexpectedly editing the reports had taken so much longer than what you had in mind. You peered outside the windows to change up the scenery for at least a second and it was very dark. You scanned over a few more paragraphs, admittedly your editing was becoming more sloppy as you were growing more tired. You gathered all of the papers and stacked them, admiring your annotated pen notes beside the report texts. Before you could get up and walk towards David with those annoying heels,

He announced, "You can go home, sorry for keeping you so late."

"Oh, it's no problem. I finished editing the files, took a little longer than expected but it all worked out."

You heard him sigh loudly before turning around in his chair, he stared at you for a moment, his eyes peering downward. You wondered if he was looking at your legs as you were wearing a pencil skirt. You looked down toward your legs then back up locking eyes with him. "Good, go home." He stated.

Before he could turn around once more you wondered, "What time do you want me in tomorrow?"

"Morning please. Thanks." He responded, leaning forward with an elbow on his knee and cheek cradled in his palm. David had a couple of thick silver wrings on his fingers which you noticed.

"Hm, okay. Out of curiosity what cases.. or case are you working on?" You asked softly, not wanting to cause anymore stress on the man. You were slowly stepping forwards headed towards his desk. You needed to hand him the edited papers anyway, why not converse a little.

He sighed before moving his position and fixing his posture. "Missing persons case, been stuck on it for a few weeks. O'Malley isn't too happy about it. We've just got no leads recently." He shook his head, he didn't seem as though he wanted to go into depth about the details that surrounded the case.

"Anything I can do to help?" You asked, while gently placing the stack of edited reports on his desk closely beside him.

"I was thinking about it. I'll let you know..." He stated with eyes glued to the files again like earlier. You glanced down looking at a few of the pictures that were out on his desk. They contained bloody images of injuries on a human, you couldn't quite tell if it was a female or male. You cringed at the sight, it was quite gruesome.

"Mm, okay." You responded, disturbed from the images.

"Need a ride home? It's late." He asked,

It was unusual that David was offering you ride and then actually speaking to you this much, he was so quiet and focused all the time. It was refreshing.

"I've got my car today, but thank you. Have a goodnight David." You smiled, emphasizing his name and the fact that he doesn't need to correct you anymore. As you walked past him and towards the doors to exit the station he admired your figure and the way your skirt slid up the back of your legs every time you took a step. You didn't know it but your closeness to him when placing the edited reports on his desk caused him to feel slightly turned on. David was a lonely man, so caught up in his work and stressing to save everyone, you were a good distraction. Sometimes you frustrated him because he felt as though you were playing games with him, but in reality he kept having to remind himself you were truly weren't and that you were completely oblivious to his thoughts.

*. * ·

The sound of your phone began ringing which caused you to jump up in your bed, you rubbed your eyes and blinked rapidly trying to gain vision before checking your phone. You sighed in annoyance, due to the time which was 5 am, and the caller, which was David.

"Hello" You answered,

David could tell he had woken you up, "Need you down at the station quickly, or I can pick you up." He stated, there were many voices in the background of the call from his end.

"Um, I-" You began, but was interrupted.

"I'm going to pick you up, be ready." David said, before hanging up abruptly.

You brought a hand to your face before heavily sighing, it was so damn early. You wondered what was wrong because David never calls, and all the background noise in the phone call sounded concerning.

After you were finished getting ready you waited for David to arrive. Today was again a dull rainy day the ground was full of melting slush that used to be snow and the sky was dark. As soon as you saw David heading up your street, you walked out of the door and locked up. His car pulled in front of your home and you sped walk towards it before letting yourself into the passenger seat.

He began driving without warning, his hands were gripping the wheel tight enough that his knuckles were turning white.

"Thought you'd be helpful to me, I know you have background experience as an ex forensics intern. Your work is good and I trust you, I want you to come to a crime scene with me. Suspect that was part of the missing persons case is now pronounced dead." Loki said, all of this was said intensely and quickly.

You nodded your head promptly, glad that you finally may be getting more experience that you deserve, not some shitty assistant position that O'Malley put you on, doubting your skills. "Thank you, means a lot. I can help." You reassured him.

A few minutes away from the scene the car stops at a red. David turns to look at you, his eyes scanning you body up and down. Not that skirt and those heels again he thought to himself. Were you trying torture him? He enjoyed what you wore but maybe he should've given you a dress code before spontaneously telling you about where you both were headed.

*. * ·

The crime scene was a bloody mess. You saw news reporters in front of caution tape and behind the caution tape was a mauled body, from your experience you could confidently say the body was a couple of days old. It made sense that the body was this old as the crime scene was merely located on a trail in the forest, so isolated.

You looked down at your heels.. a little embarrassed. You thought to yourself how you would be able to walk to the crime scene. It was only three or four meters away but the ground was muddy, had ice and melting snow as well as sticks and leaves everywhere.

David exits the car first and you exit a few seconds after, you smile at yourself thinking how the fuck you will manage to walk through all of this... debris? David is behind you waiting for you to begin walking. You start to step forwards, only walking in big careful steps, almost as if you were tip-toeing.

"Tough in heels." He chuckled, you turned around shot him a glare.

"Yeah, kind of wish someone would've told me where we were going first." You circled your finger towards the crime scene.

You continued walking forwards before twisting your ankle on a log, you fell backwards into David, who was quick to grab your waist and keep you on your feet. You could feel his ring digging into your side which made you really anxious, you liked it. His hands were dangerously close to your bottom, he then removed one hand and kept the other on your waist, he towered behind you before guiding you forwards past the log.

"Thanks." You mumbled, finding the whole situation awkward.

"Keep moving." He nodded, after David had put his hands on you, he wanted more. That damn skirt wouldn't stop moving.

As soon as you reached the crime scene David pulled out a badge from his pocket and showed the on site police officers. You followed quickly and closely behind him, there were a couple of forensic technicians surrounding the body. The body was a female. There were also other detectives which cleared out as soon as David showed up because this was a part of his case.

David grabbed your forearm rather roughly before whispering, "These guys don't know what they're doing. This is why I need your help." He whispered in your ear while subtly pointing at the other two forensic technicians who were bent down analyzing.

"I see" You said.

"I'll have you analyze and collect evidence and then write a report. I want it done by tomorrow." He stated, seriousness was evident in his tone.

You didn't respond as you were too busy taking in the scene, you felt a large hand being placed on your shoulder, your heart skipped a beat, "Hey, got it?" David asked raising his eyebrows, making sure you understood the instructions of his orders.

"Oh, yes, yes, got it." You nodded rapidly, analyzing and collecting evidence could take hours let alone writing a damn report.. all of this to be done by tomorrow was a lot.

David began to clear out the forensic technicians, "Thanks for your work, send it to the station.." You zoned out while bending down to take a look at the body. The female was cut from her chest up as if someone wanted to perhaps open up her body. You were given a camera, gloves, and several tools to analyze and collect evidence. You were glad to be given this work and that your skills were finally appreciated.

*. * ·

Zipping up the last bag of evidence and disposing your glove you finally called out to David who was scanning the area around making sure to sweep every important related spot. You announced that you were finished, again another late night working the sun was setting and it began to grow much colder. You waited for him at the car which was locked and you couldn't help but begin to shiver. Your legs were completely frozen from the cold air, especially from the constant gusts of wind.

"Hey. Doors are open now." David breathed out, while walking quickly towards the drivers seat. You opened the door excitedly, thankful to be getting out of the cold and out of the crime scene. Today has been a lot.

David didn't want you to leave yet, he didn't want to drive you home yet. You still looked too good today. You didn't know it but David was under an extreme amount of stress as someone had just died and maybe if he could've found a lead in this case, the death of an innocent could've been stopped. The pressure on him wasn't from O'Malley or protocols, it was simply rooting from the fact that he couldn't save this person.

He started the car and sat in silence, gripping the steering wheel tightly once again, he stared into the distance before shaking his head and sighing. Now you could tell this case was really bothering him. You observed his movements and his appearance, you've always wondered what the story was behind the tattoo on his neck.

"You okay David?" You asked, while turning in your seat to face him.

He nodded slowly, "Yeah." He answered quickly, almost brushing off your question not wanting to admit that he wasn't okay, he wouldn't be tough anymore if he spoke about his feelings. "Report tomorrow." He reminded you again, almost said as if it were a distraction to talk about his feelings.

"Yes." You sighed while rubbing your hands together for warmth. It was so cold that you were able to see your breath. "Mind turning on the heat?" You asked.

He looked at your crossed legs, skirt so high up your thighs. "Course." He nods, before turning the heat on high at full blast. He couldn't keep his eyes off your legs, he wanted that skirt off. He felt as though you were testing him again, the "accidental" trip on the log, and your crossed legs... He brushed off his thoughts and started the car in order to leave.

*. * ·

The car was headed towards the station and you wondered why, it was getting to be quite late and you still had the report due.

"Just have to pick up a few files, come inside." David stated, before parking and abruptly exiting the car. You left the warm car trailing behind him, hoping this wouldn't take long. In all honesty, you were a little stressed about the report.

David held the door open for you, as you walked past his large frame. You gave him a slight nod as an act of thanking him. He began walking fast to his desk, you weren't sure which files he was looking for specifically. He first pulled a couple of drawers open, then slammed them shut roughly when he didn't find what he wanted, the sound echoed the dark empty open office spaces. Afterward he began looking through papers on his desk, scattering them everywhere, some were falling onto the ground. He was beginning to grow frustrated you could tell.

"What are you looking for maybe I can help?" You stepped towards him, heels clinking on the ground, once again frustrating him even more, testing him again.

He stood up immediately without answering your question, back turned against you. He looked all over his desk while standing up to see if he could spot the desired file but it was no where to be found. He put his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes before heavily sighing in distress. He combed his fingers through his gelled hair with both hands, "Can't find this fucking case file anywhere!" He yelled, all of his stress came to him at once. His voice echoed the room and you took a slight step back a little cautiously. You knew David wouldn't do anything but you've seen what he's done before, he was strong.

His breathing was heavy and he removed his coat throwing it onto the ground, it seemed to be overstimulating him. He was left with a black fitted t- shirt and black pants. Similar outfit to yesterday.

You didn't know what to say, you didn't want to tell him to calm down, it would possibly frustrate him more. "Look, we'll find it." You assured him placing a gentle hand on his upper back.

You felt his breathing slow down, he manically turned around and you felt one of his hands around your neck, pushing you down onto his desk. He put his hands around your waist roughly holding you down and placing his lips onto yours. You wanted this, for a while to admit. You held onto his muscular forearm for support while his knee made it's way in between your thighs moving dangerously far up and separating your legs. You closed your eyes and let out a noise as he began to go for your neck sucking and biting hard, surely this would leave a mark tomorrow. David smiled into your neck after hearing you. You moved towards his knee in between his legs, wanting more however it all just hit you that this was happening with David in the fucking office.

You put your hands on his chest and moved your neck away however you were unsuccessful as he roughly grabbed your torso to put you back in place holding you down once again and continuing to go at your neck. Your heels had fallen off at this point and you were a mess underneath him.

"David" You breathed out, "I think we need to stop." You tugged at his bicep a couple of times, he stopped kissing you and started to unbutton your white blouse with one hand, button by button. While the other hand was slowly sliding up your skirt separating your thighs. His hand began to rub slow circles over your panties which drove you crazy. You didn't want him to stop, but this also wasn't professional, and it just hit you that there were cameras in here as well.

"Mm David Loki, I need to start the report." You started, but weren't able to finish

"Aren't there cameras?" You mumbled frantically while simultaneously melting at his touch. He stopped unbuttoning your shirt and kept his other hand underneath your skirt, while stopping his hand motions.

"The report can wait, we'll do this somewhere else." His voice dropped, calm but cold. He removed his hands from underneath your skirt and began tearing the desk apart again ignoring your presence. Slightly in shock you jumped down from the desk and began to slide your heels back on. You combed your fingers through your hair before beginning to button your blouse back up.

"Leave that." David stated,

You looked up at him in confusion

"Your blouse." He simply said, before continuing searching for the file.

You sighed, might as well just leave it you thought. You didn't want to be held up any longer so you your eyes began scanning the ground, there was a brown folder on the ground by the corner of one of the desk legs, you pointed it out to David, who's eyes then glistened with hope, this was the case file finally.

He kneeled down and swiftly grabbed the file to hold onto it. He put it underneath his armpit and began heading towards the door after picking up his coat.

You were confused about the whole situation, he seemed unresponsive, you didn't know what his next actions were, he seemingly just treated you as if you were invisible. You instantly followed closely behind David who was headed towards the car.

He entered the drivers seat while placing the file onto his lap. Your shaky gaze connected with his, you were nervous to make a wrong move.

"Did I do something wrong?" You asked while looking up at him glazy eyes, you were worried you'd ruined the moment by stopping him earlier, and his silence was used as a punishment towards you.

"No, no, no," He whispered while placing a large hand on your knee, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. "Get in the back seat hm?" His entire demeanor changed.

You obeyed immediately and climbed into the back seat, David wasted no time entering through the side door. He instantly grabbed you by the ankles and slid you on top of him. You straddled his lap before snaking your hands to the back of his neck and lightly tugging on his hair while he greedily kissed your lips. Your heels somehow managed to stay on.

David began squeezing your waist with his large hands as you slowly grinded on him, he let out a noise of satisfaction. He now continued to unbutton your shirt once again much rougher than before, he seemed starved. He discarded your blouse onto the ground before slowly massaging your breasts, he held onto the back of your shoulders. his fingers and his rings digging into your skin as his tongue grazed your breasts. He pulled away to see your facial expressions looking hungrily at you, as you satisfied yourself on his clothed cock.

With no warning he pushed your panties aside and swiftly ran a finger through your folds, you immediately whimpered. "That feel good?" He mumbled while another one of his fingers entered you. He began to rub agonizingly slow circles inside of you. You squirmed underneath him, you were a whining mess, your skirt was pooled by your hips, your blouse had been discarded and David was still fully clothed and in control.

"Tell me." He stopped. You whined before grabbing his wrist tightly while leaning your head against his, panting out of breath,

"Mhm, yes." You whispered against his lips, where you felt his mouth curve into a smile.

He now added another finger inside of you, slowly finger fucking you as you leaned your head into his neck holding onto his shoulders. He was just merely using his fingers and this was enough for you to lose control. You felt his cold rings inside of you which almost sent you over the edge, almost as though you were close to finishing.

He continued to move his fingers in and out of you aggressively while placing light kisses on your forehead, until your body became tense and you began to lightly shake. He sensed you were almost going to finish and immediately pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and dissatisfied.

"I don't want you finishing because of my fingers." There was no humor in his voice he looked at you dead in the eyes while holding your jaw.

He began to unbuckle his belt and you stopped him so you could do it. He slid his hands up and down the sides of your thighs softly as you un-did his belt and unzipped his pants. He pulled himself out of his boxers and you were very pleased with his size yet a little fearful. Was he going to fit? This was only your second time so everything was a little nerve wracking.

"I- will it fit?" You blurted out shaking your head. You were currently sitting at the end of his knees ready to be fucked but now you were questioning this.

"Wait,"

"Just fucking sit on it, we'll go slow." He suggests while reaching for your waist manhandling you and slowly lifting you to line up with him. Without a warning he pushed you down onto his cock, not just the tip, the entire thing. You immediately felt full and in pain, you hissed before squeezing his forearms.

"David- I said to wait.." You whispered breathily while looking down.

David was busy closing his eyes in a state of euphoria as he heavily sighed in, this was the best he's ever had. You leaned in, to kiss him and slowly began to move, attempting to ease through the pain. The pain began to subside with immense pleasure however after only a few of your movements, your stamina didn't last long and your body was extremely tired from moving up and down on David. You stopped for a split second,

"Can you help," You asked David while draping your arms around his neck and leaning your head on his shoulder out of breath. You could smell the cologne on his neck which drove you crazy, it was a hint of fresh mint and frosted pine, it was metallic and unforgiving.

"Mhm yeah baby." He breathed out,

With his strength he began to move you up and down, it seemed to easy for him. It was soft and gentle at first however slowly his movements into you became more hostile and aggressive. You were so fucked out you couldn't even continue kissing him anymore you just leaned your forehead against his while your body was moving up and down without you putting any work into it.

"I think I'm going to finish" You softly whimpered in his ear,

He continued moving rough and hard for himself before responding, "Go ahead." He panted, not far from it as well. His last few thrusts had sent you over the edge gasping as your small frame leaned fully against his, he continued pounding into you before wrapping his hands around your body and leaning his head into your collarbones. He pulled out quickly while panting heavily, weakly placing individual kisses on your neck.

The car was steamy and silent, filled with panting and breathing.

"Do you have the time..?" You asked David breaking the silence. Your head was still laying on his shoulder tiredly.

"It's 10 O'clock, still gives you enough time to write that report." He cheekily smiled, before attempting to lift you off of him. You nudged his hands away and continued to put your entire weight on him as you were still catching your breath. He was seemed to have a lot of energy and some how didn't seem tired at all. You looked at yourself compared to him, you were nude versus him who still had his black shirt on, sleeves hugged his biceps perfectly.

"I'm tired David." You sighed, slowly crawling off of his lap legs shaky. You couldn't tell if he was serious about still having the report done by tomorrow, I mean in the afternoon sure, but not the morning. He wrapped his hands around your ankles before pulling you close to him, in an upright position. He wiped up your thighs and pulled your skirt back down while searching on the ground for your blouse, still silent. You inched closer before looking up at him,

"We're not going to tell anyone about this right, I mean O'Malley would freak-"

He shook his head instantly "No one will know." He assured you, handing you your scrunched up blouse.

"Can I have the report done in the afternoon?" You questioned, really hoping he'd say yes. You couldn't imagine starting it tonight.

"I suppose. Clean up, I'm taking you home now." He stated blankly, before exiting the car and entering the drivers seat.

You couldn't quite understand his moods and temperament because one second he seemed totally into you and the other he seemed totally uninterested.

"Okay, thank you." You sighed with relief.

"I want it on my desk tomorrow at 12." He plainly stated, before turning on the car and backing out of the driveway. "We have a case to solve."

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