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veltana · 3 months ago

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Breaking point

✦ Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,5k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Dub-con (proceed with caution if this might trigger you), pwp, smut and a bit of fluff at the end, possessive/protective!bucky, degredation (slut, fuck doll, cum-bucket), grinding, choking, spitting, pussy slapping, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, pet name (sweetheart).

✦ Summary: Bucky is done with you going out with losers.

✦ Note: This used to be called I will kill them if they touch you but I never liked that title so I renamed it! Also, you guys didn't know what you were voting for, but it was the banner for this story! Please reblog and comment! Asks are always welcome 💚

Masterlist | AO3

"Please don't scare this one away as you did last time," you beg and look at Bucky's reflection in the bathroom mirror. He makes a face where he's leaning against the door frame behind you and then sighs when you give him a look. "He wasn't worth shit if he didn't wanna fight for you," he points out.

Now it's your turn to sigh and you cross your arms, glaring at him. "He isn't supposed to fight for me on a first date. We're supposed to have a good time and hopefully fuck." Bucky's mouth hardens, and he looks away. He doesn’t like that, at all.

Ever since you became roommates he's been very protective of you, helping you with the smallest things, driving you everywhere you need to go, even if you can drive yourself. Sometimes it's overbearing but most of the time it's nice to have someone care for you like that.

Unfortunately, recently he's picked up a habit of intimidating the people you go on dates with. He stands behind you when they come to pick you up, and his large frame and cold stare make many of them cower. A few have turned around right away, others have asked if that's your boyfriend or something, thinking it was some type of open relationship/cuckold situation.

"Don't say shit like that," Bucky says through gritted teeth. "I don't wanna think about you fucking other people." You can't help the teasing smile that cracks your face. "Makes you jealous?" With a huff, Bucky pushes off and leaves you to continue.

Two hours later your makeup is done and your hair fixed to perfection. You sit on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt, with a glass of wine, waiting until the last minute to put on the skin-tight dress. While scrolling on your phone, Bucky sits beside you with a beer. "So where's the loser taking you?" "Don't care,” you shrug. “Honestly, my priority tonight is to get laid. The previous ones were a little too… bland. But he seems promising." "What do you mean, bland?"

Putting your phone down you look at him, "You don't wanna hear this anyway, you'll just get mad," you point out. "I don't get mad," he defends. "Pfff, you're such a liar, I can see it in your eyes whenever I mention another guy." "Because you deserve the best and all I've seen is trash."

Irritated, you put your glass down too. "Why don't you pick for me then? Who would James Bucky Barnes deem worthy of fucking me?"

The grip on his beer is so hard his knuckles whiten and his lips are a thin line. When he doesn't answer you lean back and start to count people off.

"Well, Steve seems a bit too sweet for my taste but I mean I would not mind trying a slice of that all-American beefcake," you muse. "Sam is so charming and funny! That quick tongue would probably work wonders, if you know what I mean," you wink and watch as Bucky's eye twitch, his jaw clenched hard.

"Tony," you continue. "Well, he seems a little self-absorbed but maybe he's a really selfless lover. Won't hurt to check!" "Loki is so handsome," you bite your lip. "I would surrender my body to him in a heartbeat! But I've heard that he leaves people high and dry and that would be awful."

Tilting your head, you say, "Do you think Thor and Jane would be up for a threesome? I can just imagine eating her out while he fucks me from behind and then we could-"

With a slam he puts the bottle on the table and grabs your face with his hand forcefully, silencing your tirade of words and squeezing your cheeks so that your lips pucker.

The grip is close to bruising and it's an instant pull in your lower stomach. His eyes are black with anger, something you've never seen directed at you before. "No one," he hisses. "Not one of them is fucking you, I will kill them if they touch you."

His hand releases you and grabs your neck instead. You're shocked, and instantly so horny it hurts. Opening your mouth to speak he squeezes harder, making a wheezing sound come out.

"I'll give you a chance to stop this. Tell me right now you don't want this and we'll act as if nothing happened. Otherwise, I'm fucking you into this couch until you can't remember your goddamn name." When he finishes his grip lightens. The rush of blood makes you euphoric and boneless. You want to give yourself to him, let him do whatever he wants. "Fuck me," you whisper.

The kiss is more teeth than lips and the hold around your throat hardens again. You try to keep up with him but it's impossible as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch, making you lightheaded with the lack of oxygen. You gasp for air as he pulls away, releasing you. His gaze is brimming with lust and want now, all signs of anger gone. Then he pushes you down onto the couch.

"You're a kinky little slut, aren't you sweetheart?" he mocks and leans in over you, spreading your legs with his. All you can do is nod and try to wiggle close so you can press your center against his clothed cock. It's clearly outlined in his sweatpants and you hope it's as big as it seems. "If I put my hand down your pants, are you gonna be wet for me?" "Yes Bucky," you whine.

The throbbing is almost unbearable and his smirk is downright sinful. "Come on, rub yourself on me, show me how much you want it." With another whine, you brace yourself against the couch and lift your hips. He doesn't move a muscle to help as you struggle to find the right position.

"That's disappointing," Bucky smacks his lips and frowns. "Thought you wanted this." "I do Bucky, I do, please I'm trying," you tell him desperately. With effort, you get into a good enough position to grind your cunt on his cock through the layers of clothing. It's not nearly enough to curb the ache.

"Useless," Bucky sighs and grabs your legs. "Do I have to do everything?" He pushes your knees up towards your chest, folding you in half and pushing his cock right into your core.

"Sorry," you moan. His mean words have only made you needier and you move yourself against him with abandon. Bucky is motionless above you, not making a sound or saying a word, just staring at you chasing your high. Your movements turn unsteady when you start to come close.

If you were of sound mind you would notice the glint in his eyes but instead, you’re barreling towards your climax. Until he suddenly moves away.

Gawking you stare at him and he just smiles wickedly in return. "Take off your clothes, spread your legs" he instructs and you quickly pull your pants off and discard your t-shirt and underwear, spreading your legs as best you can on the couch. Bucky takes in your bare body, moving his hands slowly down your thighs until his palms frame your pussy.

"Fucking shaved for him too,” he notes with a snarl. You're not sure why that upset him. "Sorry!" you say, just to be safe.

"I don't need your hair curled, your make-up done or your whole body shaved. I will fuck you anyway, sweetheart, no matter what you look like because you belong to me," he growls before he spits on your cunt, sending a rush through you, making you moan and spread your legs even more.

For the first time, he touches you properly, letting his fingers spread the spit all over your pussy before shoving two of them into your soaked core. He pistons them in and out, putting his thumb against your clit and making colors burst before you.

"You want to come on my fingers, you fucking slut?" When you nod frantically he instructs, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." A second after you do spit lands on your tongue and droplets on your face. It nearly tips you over.

"Swallow it," he orders and watches you as you do, some form of approval shining in his eyes for the first time. "Who do you belong to?"

The question is too complicated to understand, you can't focus on what he wants. "I don't…" is all that comes out.

"Wrong answer," he says and removes his fingers, making you shout in disappointment. Sharp slaps land on your wet cunt and you instinctively try to move away from it, but he grabs your legs, pulling you back. "Don't you fucking run from me."

"I'm sorry," you cry, looking pleadingly at him. "I'm- I'm yours James, yours to do what you want with. Please, please, please let me come!"

With a huff he pushes his fingers back in, pressing the tips into your g-spot and getting his thumb back on your clit. His unbothered state makes you feel so small and insignificant, heightening the pleasure coursing through you.

As it climbs, your body shakes, your legs trembling from being held open. "I'm- I'm- don't stop!" you beg. Closing your eyes you focus on the feeling of him, his other hand still gripping your thigh hard. You hope it bruises.

"I can feel you, slut!" Bucky's voice is the cherry on top of everything. "Come on my fingers, do it, come for me!" he commands and of course, you do as he wants. With a scream you convulse, almost pushing him out with the sensation flooding you. Bucky is talking above you but you're not sure what he's saying because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears.

A hard tap against your cheek makes you open your eyes. "Don't pass out on me, I'm not done with you yet." "Wouldn't dream of it," you smile dumbly, and it earns you a smile in return. But it quickly passes as he pulls off his tank top and pushes down his pants. The cock is just as big as you hoped.

He rubs the head against your soaked center, sending overwhelming sparks through you, making you twitch. When he notches the head of his dick at your opening your blood freezes. "C-condom?" you stutter.

Cocking his head he asks. "Do you really want that? Doesn't a slut like you want to be filled up with cum?" "Y-yes, but, Bucky…" you gnaw your lip.

"I want to fuck my little cum-bucket raw, make sure you feel me running out of you for days," he gives a light thrust, almost pushing inside, giving you a taste of heaven. For a second you look at each other and Bucky presses in just a little bit more. It decides it for you. "Please fill me with your cum Bucky, I need it so bad!" you whine and he chuckles before shoving his fat cock into you without mercy.

Quickly you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting his hard thrusts that are sending your body into overdrive. "Feel so fucking good sweetheart, your cunt was made for me, wasn't it?" he groans. "Yes it was," you answer breathlessly.

He grabs your face. "Those other losers are never going to satisfy you." "No, Bucky, only you!" "That's right, you're my fuckdoll now, sweetheart," he says before he leans down to kiss you. It's much sweeter this time and you grab his head, carding your fingers through his hair, feeling your chest fill with another type of warmth.

When he pulls back he says, "Beg me not to come in you." Your cunt clenches and your second orgasm is suddenly a lot closer. "Bucky, please don't… I can't get pregnant," you make your voice small and frail.

In response his laugh is cruel. "Yes you will, your purpose in life is to be bred. I'm going to cum in you every day til it sticks and then everyone will know who you belong to." "Please, pull out," you beg and reach down to rub your clit, feeling the climax shimmering underneath your skin.

"Such a bad liar, sweetheart," he chuckles. "Are you going to come on my cock? Are you gonna claim me just as I claim you?" "Yes! I just need- harder!" you pant. "Fucking hell," Bucky grunts and does as you demand.

The climax rips through you with little regard for your sanity. The sound leaving your throat makes it raw and a second later Bucky moans your name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. It's almost good enough to feel him finish inside you that you come again, but you’re too spent to do more than shudder.

Then he kisses you again, sweetly, caringly, and pushes his arms in under your body to hug you close to him. "So perfect," he whispers against your mouth. The cums start to trickle out onto the couch but neither of you care, too caught up in each other's lips.

"How are you doing sweetheart?" he asks when he comes up for a breath. "I feel a little high," you confess. "Haven't been fucked that good in a long time."

There is something in his gaze that shifts and he leans his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't take it anymore… I like you so much." "Lucky for you I get off on that stuff," you smile. "And if I had said stop I trust you would have."

He hugs you so hard you can hardly breathe. "Of course, I fucking would." "You can make it up to me by going tender the next time," you smile. "Next time?" "As many times as you’ll have me." He laughs into your skin. "I don't think you're ready for that!"

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell jerks the two of you apart. You stare at Bucky with wide eyes. "My date," you whisper, horrified.

With a smirk, he raises himself on his arms. "I should make you go on that date with my cum running out of you, maybe even let him get as far as spreading your legs just to see that you’re already claimed."

With a groan, you cover your face with your hands. "Don't tempt me," you tell him before wiggling out from under him, finding your clothes, and hastily pulling them on.

Opening the door just a crack, you understand you look a mess by the way your date eyes you. "Sorry," your voice is small. "I wasn't feeling great and then I fell asleep on the couch." "Yeah, you look terrible," the guy notes before handing you one of the ugliest bouquets you've ever seen. Quickly stepping away he says, "I'll call you." but you know he won't. "Great, I'll see you around," you respond before closing the door.

Bucky takes the flowers from you and shoves them in the trash before grabbing you around the waist and kissing you again. "Didn't you say he was promising?" "I have no clue what you're talking about," you answer with a completely straight face but then start to giggle as he swoops you up and carries you to his bedroom.

#veltana writes #bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #posessive!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #possessive!bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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ghost-proofbaby · 6 months ago

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foolishness and all

summary: your boyfriend puts your love to the test when his heart is set on a certain unsightly purchase.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

warnings: jar jar binks. not edited, i was laughing too hard.

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: this is the product of a very insane conversation that occurred in the middle of the night last night with @emmaisgonnacry, @lokis-army-77, and @emma-munson. forever sad we can't get the jar jar watch </3 (but at least emma got the darth maul one!) ((thank you for making me laugh until i cried last night, friends.))

“If you buy that thing, I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m getting the watch.”

“And I’m getting a new boyfriend.”

You glare at your boyfriend for several beats of tense silence, narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do anything to change his mind. His heart is already set – there’s no stopping what’s about to happen.

“Edward Munson,” you stress, hand shooting out to hold his wrist, but he’s already whipping it out of your reach, “That thing is hideous. We’re shopping for a nice watch for Steve’s wedding, not that.”

“This thing has a name, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles toothily, tilting his head tauntingly at you, “And I think it fits the theme perfectly.”

“In what fucking world?”

You're whispering harshly now, trying to keep from causing a commotion in the middle of the store and garnering any more unwanted attention. The workers had given you strange enough looks when Eddie had first laid eyes on his prize, his little yelp of excitement seemingly startling them.

The less people who witnessed the atrocity on Eddie’s wrist currently, the better.

Eddie goes against that wish entirely, holding his wrist high in the air for the entire mall to see at this point, “In my world. He did say it was meant to be open for interpretation-”

“Not like this.”

“And my interpretation is buying this absolutely priceless Jar-Jar Binks watch.”

The thing looks down at you, almost as if it’s laughing at you just as Eddie was right now.

Part of you wonders if it’s all a bit – something Eddie noticed set you off, and he’s now making it into an entire catastrophic situation solely for his own enjoyment at your irritation. But part of you also knows that even if it is a bit, Eddie Munson will commit wholeheartedly to it.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not. He’ll be leaving this store as the owner of that watch, and the thought mortifies you.

“Please,” you finally resort to begging, feeling a bit childish as you give a pitiful hop to reach his wrist. It’s useless. He only stretches higher, shirt riding up to expose that strip of pale skin beneath the fabric. Your eyes catch on it momentarily, but you force yourself to not get distracted, “Eddie, baby-”

“Nuh uh,” he’s quick to shake his head, taking a full step back from you, “Nope. That baby shit isn’t working on me this time. I’m buying it. End of discussion.”

Fine. The sweet talk route didn’t work. That’s fine.

You had more than one weapon in the arsenal.

Before he can even think to step any further away, you reach out and hook your finger through one of his belt loops, giving a tug that further exposes the band of his boxers all while forcing him closer to you.

You’re back on your tip-toes, no longer reaching for the watch, but to let your lips barely graze over his as your whispers, “What if I ask you not to very, very nicely?”

That has him faltering. Complete hesitation as he takes a deep breath and visible gulp, arm beginning to drop ever so slightly.

“I would… I’d…” he trails off, clearly losing focus as your lips stay hovering just out of touch, “I’d probably… I-”

“Probably not buy it – right, handsome?”

And just as quickly as he’d fallen victim to the game you’d started playing, he’s pulled from it.

He leans back as far as he can with your finger still clinging to his pants, scrunching up his nose, “I see what you’re doing. Not fucking fair. It’s only thirteen dollars, anyway. I bet if Steve was here right now, he’d tell me to get it.”

“He wouldn’t!” you whisper-yell, giving up and pulling back as well, “It’s his wedding, Eddie. He told us to get something nice to fit in with the black tie dress code,” you can see him ready the argument of interpretation once more, and nip it in the bud, “No amount of interpretation can ever qualify the head of Jar-Jar Binks turned into a watch as something that fits into black tie attire.”

He’s not convinced. Not of the point you’re trying to make – no, you know he agrees with you and is just being a little shit at this point – but of not buying the watch.

“What if I just bought it?” he barters, “Maybe I don’t wear it to the weddin-”

“There’s no maybes about it. You can’t wear it to the wedding. You’re one of the groomsmen.”

He lifts his other hand just as the one adorning the eyesore finally drops to be eye level once more, “Fine! Fine. I won’t wear it to the wedding, but I’m still getting it.”

It’s a compromise. Or as close to a compromise as you and Eddie were going to get to right now.

With his wrist finally lowered, you can finally get a proper look at the thing. It’s Jar-Jar’s head with a band to mimic his skin, no clock in sight until it’s flipped open. The inside might be even worse though. Vivid font curling to spell out Jar-Jar, a light orange background with darker swirls, and the world’s smallest sliver of a screen to display the digital time.

It absolutely blows your mind that anyone thought it was a good marketing idea. But then again, people like your boyfriend exist. He was the intended audience, not you.

“It’s not even that cool,” you weakly still try to fight the losing battle, gingerly grabbing for the wrist this time with your free hand. Your finger hasn’t left Eddie’s belt loop, now resting comfortably in it, just growing fond of the closeness rather than weaponizing it against him.

And maybe as a way of keeping him from running up to the counter to complete the purchase. Maybe.

“It’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he proudly proclaims, right there in the middle of the Radio Shack, never having looked more satisfied with himself, “It can just be a conversational piece. I promise, I won’t break out the secretly evil little shit-”

“What?”

“Unless the occasion actually calls for it.”

“I’m sorry, can we go back to where you just called Jar-Jar secretly evil?” you ask, more perplexed than concerned at this point.

He was getting it. You were hating it. You had bigger wars to win with the man before you at a later date, surely.

His grin makes you regret asking, “Oh, you haven’t heard the theory about Jar-Jar being a Sith lord, have you?”

Your finger slips from his jeans, and your eyes nearly roll out of your head.

“Go buy that thing. I’m waiting in the car.”

“Wait, babe, no!”

“Nope. I’m not listening to this.”

You turn from Eddie to walk away, making sure he can’t see the corners of your mouth twitching with a smile you’re so desperately fighting, but it’s no use when he grabs onto your elbow to spin you back around.

“Eddie, I’m not-”

You’re interrupted with his lips on yours, an unexpectedly genuine kiss ensuing. The kind that reminds you why you’d ever deal with someone who wants a Jar-Jar Binks watch, the kind that reminds you why the occasional embarrassment Eddie purposefully puts you through in public is all worth it.

All the butterflies, all the sweetness, all the tenderness. The way his thumb traces over your skin as his hand stays wrapped around your elbow, the way his other hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You can still taste whatever sour candy he’d bought moments before walking into the store all over his tongue and lips, hiding his last cigarette from hours ago.

It’s a good enough kiss to forget the entire interaction that had just occurred.

When he pulls away, you’re a little breathless, all fluttering eyes glazed over as you look up at him, “What was that for?”

His smile could melt your entire existence. Turn you right into a puddle of all the love you struggle to contain, just for him.

“Just because,” he shrugs, but then he continues on, “And for putting up with me. Thank you for that.”

“I don’t put up with you,” you say immediately, and mean it.

Even when he’s being insufferable. Even when he’s still wearing the goddamn Jar-Jar Binks watch. You don’t put up with him – you love him. Foolishness and all.

Your finger returns to his belt loop, and this time, you tug him in for another kiss. Something short and sweet, something just because.

“You know,” he mumbles against your lips, arm wrapping around you so you can’t leave him just yet, “They have a Darth Maul one, too…”

Your hand comes up between the two of you, only a slight struggle, just for you to smack him in the center of his chest, “You can only have one, Munson.”

“We could match!”

“I am not wearing that thing.”

He throws his head back and cackles, a certain glee only born of being with the one you feel safest with flooding his features. All those wrinkles in the corners of his crinkled eyes, the stretch of his lips that bring on the appearance of dimples you could bury yourself in if given the chance. A boy made up of stardust and felicity. Your boy made up of every good thing that could have ever existed in this lifetime.

You’d rather bicker over the useless things with him a hundred times over than ever live a life without him.

“It’s fine,” he finally sighs dramatically, “I’ll just wear the Jar-Jar Binks watch to our wedding one day.”

Our wedding one day.

Your heart just about explodes, and the only thing you can do to not choke up is smack him even harder.

Our wedding.

It has a nice ring to it.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you tell him instead.

There’ll be plenty of other moments to talk about that. Now, when he still wears the ugliest watch you’ve ever laid eyes on, is not the time.

“Gotta catch me first,” he teases as he slowly backs away, a twinkle in his eyes that makes you question if he knows how you’d secretly felt about that joke. That makes you question if he and Steve Harrington had really only been shopping for Steve’s rings for the last year.

He doesn’t even run to the counter, knowing that you won’t be chasing him. You’re content to stay back and wait. You’ll always wait on him, really.

Even if it meant waiting for the day he wore that goddamn watch on your wedding day, because at the end of it all, you’d probably let him. You’d even wear the Darth Maul watch to match if he insisted.

You’d let him wear whatever he wants, and you’d wear whatever he insists upon, because at the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter – it’d be enough to simply marry the dork that just tripped on his way up on the counter while giggling over a watch on his wrist, and know that he’s yours, forever.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

join my taglist!

#holy fucking shit i just love eddie munson so much #i'm actually eddie in this. i want the watch.#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson one shot #joking one shots like this with him always end with me turning to mush at the end truly #it just reminds me why i love him #and why i love fandom at times #sorry to make you all have to endure the jar jar binks watch- actually im not sorry i WANT THE WATCH #also forever sad because i couldn't get the original photo i wanted of eddie to match. i wanted the deranged :D photo #just know that's the face he's making this entire one shot

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indelen · 10 months ago

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Absolutely underrated how amazing this expression is - peak Brodinsons moment.

#the pride and fondness in his eyes!#when you're big brother comes into the squabble to start wrecking shit and you're like “oh yea that one's my brother all your ass is grass”#like I'd imagine that's a side of being a little brother that Loki is not on often #the playground “my big brother can kick you ass” writ large and godlike #loki thought it was beneath him for years he was choked by jealousy and anger and feelings of being overlooked #and here we see it rise in him again the feeling of pride for having a cool big brother #i just think it's neat #also it's to kick the ass of their big sister #like do you ever think about how Thor understood and related and got along better with Loki after he got a big mean sibling of his own?#i do a lot #he stopped being the oldest and the assumed heir to whom everything goes by default #he was brought down by hela to middle sibling status but not to Loki #to Loki he remains and will remain a Big Brother #i dunno the sibling stuff the conflicted emotions about your family was always the best part of this franchise to me #i have an annoying big brother that's probably why i relate to loki so hard #marvel #loki #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #mcu

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cleo-fox · 1 year ago

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Close Quarters

Part 1 of 2

Summary: “You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

Your job, as it turns out, is to go undercover at a luxury resort.

The only problem? Your fake husband is Loki Laufeyson—the infuriatingly handsome Norse god turned Avenger who delights in making you flustered. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki.

A/N: there will be a part 2. Also have a handful of related one shot ideas, so if people like this, I may post those. This is also posted on AO3.

Your self-sufficiency has always been a point of pride for you, both personally and professionally. The highlight of your career was overhearing Nick Fury say that he didn’t need to send in a team of people for a mission so long as he had you on the payroll. You are calm, competent, and ruthlessly efficient; you are used to relying only on yourself.

So it comes as something of a surprise when Fury informs you that Loki Laufeyson will not only be accompanying you on this undercover mission, but will also be taking the lead.

It takes a lot to render you speechless these days, but this does it. You gape at Fury for a moment before you’re able to speak.

“You never send me in with anyone,” you say.

“This mission requires a unique skillset.”

You scoff. “He can’t do anything that I can’t.”

Fury raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest. “Really? How’s your conversational Sokovian?”

There’s, of course, no argument to be made with this. Your lips press into a thin, hard line. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

Your job, as it turns out, is to play the part of Nina Pine.

Nina Pine is bubbly and vivacious, the sort of person you’d see in the society pages. She wears designer clothes and owns jewelry that is so ostentatious and expensive that it looks like it must be fake. She is not particularly bright or talented; she is the product of good luck and generational wealth.

Three weeks ago, Nina married Jonathan Pine, who she met six months ago at the home of a mutual friend. Jonathan does something in finance that sounds like it’s just a tarted up version of gambling, but with more complicated rules and less oversight. It is Jonathan’s higher tolerance for risk (and healthy trust fund assets) that has him considering an investment in KorolCo, a company owned by Ivan Litvinchuk. Litvinchuk uses KorolCo as a front to launder money from illegal arms deals.

Loki would be going undercover as Jonathan. Your new husband.

You are not particularly happy about this little detail (a detail that Fury mysteriously failed to mention when you met with him), in no small part because Loki has already started leveraging it to annoy the shit out of you.

“How are you already this annoying when we’re still in prep?” you say after a particularly exasperating meeting.

“I’m simply overcome by my love for you,” says Loki with a cloying faux sincerity that makes you yearn for the sweet release of death.

Fury, you note, is suspiciously unavailable during all of this. After ignoring three of your (admittedly lengthy) emails on the subject, he sends you a frustratingly short reply:

Do your job, Agent.

Maybe you’ll take up meditation.

If there’s a bright side to what appears to be a massive clusterfuck in the making, it’s that you’ll at least get a free vacation of sorts

The mission will be taking place at The Indigo, an absurdly expensive and exclusive hotel on a private beach not far from La Jolla Cove. The Indigo is the sort of place that you’d only read about—the kind of hyper exclusive resort that is only ever mentioned in damning Pro Publica reports about the questionable actions of high ranking public officials. Rooms start at fifty thousand a night and you are staying in one of the suites, which likely costs more. Your room information was included in your briefing materials and it all sounds too good to be true: a soaking tub and waterfall shower. Private terrace with an infinity pool. Private bar. In-suite chef and spa services by appointment. Ocean view.

One Norse god who delights in irritating you (non-negotiable).

You suppose you’ll try and make the best of it.

The first problem is your sleeping arrangements: there’s only one bed. Granted, it’s a big bed, but still—it suggests a level of intimacy that you had not thought about and are not at all prepared for.

“Well, Agent, this isn’t how I envisioned taking you to my bed, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” says Loki on your first evening there.

You chuck a pillow at him, which he easily dodges.

“Keep it up and you can magic yourself a pillow and sleeping bag and sleep in the hall,” you say.

“Even if that were an appropriate accommodation for someone of my rank and title, I rather think it would do some damage to our cover.”

He has a point and you don’t like it. You decide to ignore him and start getting ready for bed.

The pajamas that had been packed for you are a little fancier than what you’re used to—satin and lace instead of cotton tees and shorts. Normally, you’d relish the opportunity to feel a little fancy—it’s an unexpected indulgence, a splurge on the company dime.

But with Loki now thrown into the equation, you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact that the fabric will likely cling to your curves, that the hem of the skirt is just a little too high. You choose the most demure one of the lot—a pale rose colored thing hemmed with lace—and head to the bathroom to change.

Even with the matching robe, you still feel a little awkward and oddly nervous. You avoid looking at Loki—if his gaze is lingering on your legs or your hips, you don’t want to know about it right before you hop into bed with him—and go about your normal routine. You manage to have a relatively normal conversation about your plan for tomorrow and you read a couple chapters of your book before you start to drift off.

It’s a king sized bed with plenty of room, but somehow you wake up perched near the edge of the bed with Loki pressed up against your back.

He’s got one arm wrapped around your waist so that you’re pinned against him and the deep, even breaths brushing against the back of your neck tell you he’s still asleep. You’re pretty sure this must have been unintentional on his part: Loki doesn’t seem like the sort to willingly allow himself to be seen seeking out human contact. It’s too vulnerable, too soft for the sharp and sarcastic veneer he presents to the world.

He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip on you tightening. Something hard pokes against the curve of your ass.

You can’t help the responding ache between your legs. You should feel embarrassed—and you do, just a little—but there’s a competing feeling of warm curiosity that makes you press your thighs together. It’s been a while and you miss being held like this. The silk of your nightgown is cool and slippery against your skin, and you feel oddly restless and alert despite the early hour.

You should put a stop to this—that is the professional and sensible thing to do. So you carefully lift his arm from your waist and gently extricate yourself from his embrace. You pad to the bathroom, leaving the light off to spare your eyes.

In the bathroom, you run the tap as cold as it will go. You cup your hands and drink before splashing some water on your face in an effort to quell the restless heat building between your thighs.

It doesn’t really work. You’re not entirely surprised—if you were by yourself, you would simply take care of it, but that’s obviously not an option now. Out of curiosity, you slip your fingers between your thighs to assess the state of things and you immediately regret it: you’re soaked and just the feeling of your index finger glancing against your clit is enough to undo the admittedly minimal effect of the cold water.

You splash your face again and shut off the tap, taking a few deep breaths and smoothing your hands against your hair.

You exit the bathroom and slide back into bed. Loki reaches for you in his sleep and you are only half surprised when you let him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensifies and before you can think about it, your back is arching and your breath is hitching.

He pulls you closer and suddenly his breath is warm on your ear. “You know, if you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, only a little husky with sleep.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, even as your back arches again and you press yourself against him.

Lips press against where your neck and shoulder meet. “But you want it.” His fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown. “Yes?” he asks, his voice husky against your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Agent.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Agent.”

Your eyes flutter open. Loki is standing at the foot of the bed, hair wet, and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“It’s eight o’clock,” he says. “You need to shower and dress if we’re to make it to breakfast on time.”

It takes you a moment to process this information. Partly because he just woke you up from a sex dream about him and partly because wearing only a towel should be fucking illegal when you look like that. You try to keep your eyes trained on his and not let them drift to his flat stomach where you can see a faint smattering of chest hair that gathers in a line that trails directly to his cock. And definitely not to any of the muscles that are on tantalizing display and dotted by drops of water that are begging to be licked away. Nope. Not looking at any of that. Just at his devastatingly handsome face.

Fuck.

“Agent?”

You shake your head. “Sorry. Bit groggy this morning. Finish up what you were doing and I’ll go jump in the shower.”

He gives you a bit of an odd look, but mercifully walks away without further comment.

This gives you an opportunity to stare at his broad back as he walks away. Goddammit, even his ass looks good in that towel.

Fuck.

You have a feeling this is going to be a long week.

It’s only day one and it’s becoming clear to you that you are not really prepared for some of the practicalities of being Loki’s wife.

Specifically: being the primary focus of his flirtations and little gestures of affection. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers lacing with yours, the brush of his lips against the back of your hand or the shell of your ear—it’s all a little overwhelming in a way you don’t expect. It was one thing when he was razzing you in your prep meetings—he was quite clearly doing it to be irritating. But at The Indigo, he has to appear sincere for your cover and that particular detail makes it a different beast entirely.

The fact that both his regular appearance and the blond-haired, blue-eyed glamor he’s adopted for the mission are both devastatingly handsome certainly doesn’t help. Nor does the additional baggage of your sex dream this morning.

Unfortunately for you, Loki quickly ascertains that he now has a great and novel way to fluster you. Equally unfortunate is the fact that he seems to find this as hilarious as he did back in prep meetings, which prompts him to be only more outlandish.

“Are you trying to sabotage this?” It’s later that afternoon and you’ve gone down to the pool with the plan of schmoozing with Litvinchuk and his associates. Loki has clearly decided that this needs to be more difficult than it is and has fully committed to the bit, as they say.

(You’ve also gotten very good at whispering threats under your breath and making it look like you’re flirting; the timing of this is not a coincidence).

“I don’t know why you’re so distraught about sunscreen,” says Loki, rubbing a generous amount between his palms.

“It’s not the sunscreen, it’s that you’re going to find some way to be inappropriate about it.”

“I’d never.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“You wound me.” He places his hands on your shoulders and begins rubbing in the sunscreen, going much slower than you think is strictly necessary. “Perhaps this trip is merely bringing out our natural chemistry.”

“You wish.”

“Is it the hair that does it for you, Mrs. Pine? Do you have a particular fondness for blonds?”

“Do you have a fondness for being murdered in broad daylight? Because that’s the fate you’re headed towards, buster.”

He tuts at you as his hands slide to the small of your back. “Temper, temper. You really need to work on that.”

“Have you considered working on not annoying the ever-loving shit out of me?”

His breath is suddenly warm against your ear. “Now where’s the fun in that? And before you answer, be advised that Tarasevich is looking right at us.”

Fuck. Tarasevich is the most suspicious and paranoid of the lot—years in the Sokovian mafia paired with recreational drug use will do that to a guy. You turn so that you’re facing Loki. He looks at you fondly, looking for all the world like a loved up newlywed just smitten with his new wife.

“One of these days, I’m going to drop kick you into the motherfucking sun,” you say in the sweetest voice that you can muster.

“Now, now, Mrs. Pine, let’s keep the foreplay in the bedroom.” He rests his forehead against yours, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “There’s such a thing as public indecency laws, you know.”

You sigh heavily. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh, because it’s so much fun.”

“Is he still looking?”

“Yes and I’m going to kiss you to put him off, so do try to contain yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You catch a flicker of a smile before he leans in and brushes his lips against yours. You intend for this to be brief, but his mouth is so warm and inviting and before you know it, he’s gently coaxing your lips open and leading your tongue in a slow and seductive caress that has your mind drifting straight to the gutter.

His hand slides to your thigh and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.

“Ah, Pine. Mixing business and pleasure, I see.”

You pull back from Loki to find Ivan Litvinchuk standing in front of you, wearing the smug, congratulatory smirk that you often see men like him trading with one another when they think they’re getting somewhere with a woman.

“Normally I try not to, but I’ve found it rather impossible these last three weeks, haven’t I, darling?” Loki takes the opportunity to loop his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, nuzzling your neck.

You give a good natured laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would fault me when I have such a tempting little wife.”

This, paired with the squeeze of his hand on your thigh, sends an unexpected rush of heat to your cunt. Fortunately, the effects of this are quickly tempered when you notice that Litvinchuk is eyeing you rather appreciatively. The wardrobe team has really outdone themselves with your clothes, but the swimsuits they’ve sent are definitely more revealing than you are used to—today’s choice is a bikini with a split sweetheart neckline that dips a lot lower than you’d like and a fucking underwire in the top. Underwire! The bottom is no better—it’s both low rise and high cut, the perfect way to ensure that half of your ass is exposed at any given time. Even in the matching translucent cover up—which of course you’ve left on the chair that Litvinchuk is standing in front of—you feel a little more bare than you’d like, a fact that Litvinchuk seems to be appreciating, if the path of his gaze is any indication.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Pine,” he says, his eyes flicking briefly to your cleavage.

You expertly tamp down your disgust and smile at Litvinchuk before turning around to bat your eyes at Loki.

“You are, aren’t you?” you say, twining your arms around his neck and planting a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.

He gives you a dazzling smile that’s so sincere it makes your stomach flip. “Very much so.”

Another squeeze of your thigh, more heat to your cunt. Fuck.

“Well, Pine, when you are ready to discuss more business—” Here he switches to Sokovian.

This is the part you dislike the most about this particular mission: whenever anything of substance comes up, Litvinchuk and his cronies immediately switch to Sokovian, leaving you in the dark.

To add insult to injury, Litvinchuk still seems infatuated by your cleavage.

Litvinchuk says goodbye a few minutes later and you manage to bite your tongue until he’s out of earshot.

“I really don’t love the fact that he spent half of that conversation sneaking looks at my boobs,” you say quietly.

“Well, to be fair, they do look spectacular,” says Loki. “I’ll have to send a thank you note to the wardrobe team for that.”

Heat stirs hopefully and unhelpfully in your hips at that comment.

“This is what I meant by being inappropriate, you know. Did he have anything interesting to say?”

“He’s invited me to a game of cards this afternoon.”

“Do you need me for that? I could go try and talk to the wives, see what I can find out.”

“Originally, I’d thought no, but since dear Ivan seems so enamored of your assets, it might not be a bad idea to have you come along.”

You sigh. “How am I now at the point in my life where letting an illegal arms dealer stare at my tits is a fucking mission objective?”

Loki laughs quietly. “We’ll keep that out of the final report.”

The card game ends up being a lot worse than you thought it would be. And not because of Litvinchuk’s wandering eyes.

They’ve set up the game on the pool deck tables and chairs. As best as you can tell, it’s a Sokovian twist on a combination of rummy and poker. You’re not the only woman at the table: a few of the other men have their girlfriends or mistresses draped over them like strange human scarves, though their roles seem to be largely decorative.

Loki makes a big show of pulling you into his lap, saying how he just can’t bear to be apart from his new wife for terribly long.

“Ah, young love,” says Mikhnevich. “I remember when my Irina and I were like this.”

“Now she begs for him to leave the house!” says Litvinchuk. There’s a hearty round of laughter—it’s not a particularly funny joke, but you suppose that’s one of the benefits of moving up in the world of crime: people will laugh at your jokes because they’re afraid you’ll kidnap their families or something. It’s all very dysfunctional.

Loki makes an effort to teach you the game, but Nina is not the sort who pays very close attention to that kind of thing, so you find yourself giggling and letting him steal kisses or whisper in your ear as he explains some strategy or another.

There are several problems with this arrangement. The first is that you are positioned on his lap in such a way that you can feel his cock nudging your ass or your thigh, depending on how he’s sitting. And it’s close enough proximity for you to ascertain that he is long, thick, and semi-erect.

The second problem is his thigh; specifically, how it presses against your cunt, how every time Loki leans forward to draw a card, he inadvertently rocks you against the firm muscle. Each time, it feels better than the last; each time, you clench and ache and talk yourself out of riding his thigh until you have a screaming orgasm right on the pool deck. Each time, the idea becomes more and more tempting.

The third problem is his hands. Specifically, where and how they are wandering. He plays it off like it’s unintentional, like he’s just absently fidgeting with the part of your suit that lays against your hip or idly drawing lazy circles on your thigh. You can’t help but think that it must be calculated. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours intentionally trying to drive you crazy–there’s no way that he would pass up an opportunity to play his little games without you scolding him or rolling your eyes.

The fourth problem is that the first three problems are turning you on a lot.

Your clit seems to swell with every pass of his fingertips on your bare skin, no matter how casual. It drags against the slick material of your swimsuit every time you shift on Loki’s muscular thigh. You can feel yourself growing slicker and slicker with every moment. Eventually, it becomes too much and you try to shift in his lap, crossing your legs to give yourself a little relief.

This does exactly nothing useful. Instead, your movement causes his cock to twitch against you, which only escalates your growing arousal. He hooks the elastic of your suit at your hip onto his thumb and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. His expression is playful when you look up at him, but there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

You are throbbing, your cunt practically weeping with slickness. And you’re pretty sure he knows.

And you’re pretty sure you don’t mind.

You lick your lips.

He hooks his thumb back into your suit at the hip, and this time he leaves it there, his fingers splayed along the curve of your hip. It’s casually possessive and ridiculously hot and the polar opposite of helpful.

He definitely knows.

Your heart is pounding. Can you go into cardiac arrest from being too turned on? You wish you could use Google. At a minimum, some sort of visual equivalent of a cold shower would be helpful. Pictures of Henry Kissinger or something. Budget reports. Taxes. Anything to get your mind off your aching cunt and the mess that you’re making in your swimsuit.

“I think you could do with a bit of a lie down, Mrs. Pine.” Loki's voice is low in your ear. “You seem…warm.”

You would have thought that Loki knowing about your current state of arousal would be cause for humiliation, if not irritation. Instead, it only seems to add fuel to the fire, especially with the way he’s talking to you. You’re not sure how he’s doing this, but it feels like his fucking voice is vibrating in the cradle of your hips, sending a fresh wave of slick arousal to your dripping cunt.

“Yeah,” you say. “Very warm.”

It’s perhaps a testament to your current state of mind that you can only manage this sentence and not some smart remark.

“Would you like my help with that, darling?” he asks. The phrasing is innocent, but the question is loaded. And sincere. You take in a shaky breath. You know all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but you also can’t bring yourself to say no. He may be wildly irritating, but you suspect he’s likely a good fuck…and you really need to be fucked.

You nod. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

“We’ll go up to the room after this game ends,” he says. “And then I’ll take very good care of you.”

It takes everything in you not to whine. Fuck. You didn’t think it was possible to be this wet, this turned on.

Loki shifts slightly, pulling you close against him, his cock now fully erect and pressing hard and thick against your ass.

“Do you feel me?” he asks, his lips grazing your ear. “Do you feel what you’ve done?”

You nod and wiggle your hips slightly, partly to situate yourself and partly because you want a little bit of payback. His grip on your hip tightens.

“I’d advise you not to play games, little wife,” he rasps in your ear.

More heat builds in your hips. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on. Maybe never. You throw a look at Loki over your shoulder. “It’s not a game,” you say. “I’m just very warm.”

His eyes are dark. “Burning up, I suspect.”

“You have no idea.” You lean back against him, turning so you can nuzzle your face against his neck. God, he smelled good. “Please,” You say it so quietly that only he can hear, “I’m aching.”

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and you feel his cock throb. He clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my leave a little early—Mrs. Pine is feeling quite unwell.”

Fuck yes.

If Litvinchuk and his men suspect there’s anything untoward about your departure, they don’t say so—and you imagine you must look a little unsteady anyway. Loki slides an arm around your waist as you leave.

“Now Mrs. Pine,” he says once you’re out of earshot, “tell me exactly what ails you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“I only want to ensure that we are on the same page,” he says with a smirk.

“Like hell you do. I already told you, you just want to hear—” You cut yourself off, realizing that you’re playing right into his hands.

He smiles like a cat with a bowl full of cream. “What do I want to hear, darling?”

You press your lips together. This is infuriating.

“I’m waiting…”

You blow out a shaky breath. Fuck it. “You just want to hear me say that I’m fucking soaked because you’ve been rubbing me against your thighs and touching me for the last two hours and if I don’t come soon, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

He smirks as you approach the hotel lobby. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear you say all that.”

“You absolutely were.”

The air conditioned air in the hotel lobby feels extra icy against your sunwarmed skin and your sandals seem to clack particularly loudly against the marble floors.

“You have a smart mouth, do you know that?”

“You like it,” you say as you approach the bank of elevators. “That’s the reason why you pull half of this shit with me.”

“Perhaps.” He gives you a smile that feels a little dangerous and sends even more heat to your aching cunt. “But do you know what my favorite part of your smart mouth is, Mrs. Pine?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The elevator door opens. It’s empty and your cunt clenches at the possibilities this presents.

“My favorite part about your smart mouth,” says Loki in a low voice as you step into the elevator, “is that it will sound that much sweeter when I make you beg for me.”

The elevator door slides closed and you barely have a chance to react before he’s backing you up against the wall and pressing his thigh between your legs.

“You’re a disobedient, wicked tease, Mrs. Pine,” he growls, sending a thrill through you. “I think you could benefit from a firm hand.”

“You like it,” you breathe, rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to capture some of the same friction that was driving you wild earlier.

“Rutting yourself against my thigh in public like a common slut,” he purrs. “You must be desperate.” He slides a hand between your legs, slipping his fingers under your bathing suit. His expression changes the moment his fingers dip past the fabric—almost like he expected you to be wet, but not this wet.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs as you keen. “You’ve made a mess of yourself, haven’t you?”

“I need to come so bad,” you gasp.

“I know you do.” He reaches over and slams the emergency stop button and the elevator shudders to a halt. “And you’re going to. Right now.”

“I can wait until we get to the ro—”

He spins you around and pulls you to him so your back is pressed against his chest.

“No, you can’t.” He curls his big frame over yours, sliding his hand back into your bathing suit and stroking the full length of your sex and making you cry out again. “You need it too badly.” He starts rubbing your clit with his middle and index fingers. “And I don’t think it’s going to take all that long, darling,” he growls, sucking your earlobe into his mouth, “because you’re already so fucking wet.”

There’s a small, distant part of you that resents the fact that he’s right about anything, let alone anything pertaining to your orgasms.

The larger part of you is focused on the fact that he’s right: you’re going to come and you’re going to come hard.

Your legs are shaking and you brace your arms against the elevator wall to hold yourself up. You moan loudly and arch your back as the feeling starts building in your hips.

“You need this so badly, don’t you?” He nips hard at your earlobe. “You’re desperate for it. I felt you tense up every time your sopping cunt rubbed against my thigh, every time I touched you just right.”

You whimper, pressure rising in your hips as you rock with his hands.

“You’re so close,” Loki purrs in your ear. His hips are thrusting mindlessly against your ass, like he can’t wait to be inside you.

“Fuck, I need to come,” you whimper.

“Oh, I’m going to make you come, darling, but I think what you really need is to be fucked.”

You moan as your orgasm starts to crest.

“You need to be fucked properly and hard,” he murmurs. “You need me to take care of your sopping wet, needy little cunt. You need to be filled to the brim with my cock and my come like the good girl that you are. You need to come over and over on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.”

This is what pushes you over the edge. The muscles of your cunt clench and then pleasure is blooming in your belly as the tension of the last two hours comes to a peak and you come hard. You cry out, your hips rocking against Loki’s hand, chasing the shimmery aftershocks.

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he purrs. He holds you as you shudder and shake, his fingers still moving, still coaxing out those final waves of pleasure. But just when you think he’s about to pull his hand away, he starts massaging your clit again, one long finger slipping inside you.

“You don’t think you’re going to be satisfied with just one, do you?” he growls in your ear. “Not a needy girl like you, not when you’ve been dripping for hours. You need more, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck—” You can feel that pressure growing again and you know it’s going to be different this time.

“You’re going to come for me again, pretty girl,” he purrs. “And this time, I want to hear you scream.”

Everything is coiling up so tight and tense and suddenly two of his fingers are inside of you and they’re curling just right and the edges of your vision go white as everything inside you fizzes and releases and a sharp cry falls from your lips as you come.

“Good girl,” his voice rumbles low over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

His hand finally stills once the final aftershocks roll through you. Your legs are shaking, but his grip on you is still firm. Boneless, you turn to him and he presses his slick fingers past your lips. You suck and lick his fingers clean and then he’s kissing you, sucking your own essence from your lips and tongue.

“Fuck,” you breathe as the elevator shudders to life. “Fuck, that was so good.”

Loki laughs quietly and scoops you up into his arms as the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, darling.”

Continued in Part 2

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x yn smut #loki x y/n #loki x yn #loki x you smut #close quarters fic

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loki-cees-all · 2 months ago

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Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters.

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet.

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel.

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer.

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally.

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth.

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence.

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now.

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes.

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more “fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image.

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary.

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest.

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out.

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache.

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki.

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween?

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him.

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night.

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one.

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone.

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki.

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long.

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki.

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day.

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door.

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you.

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had.

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment.

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward.

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door.

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment.

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door.

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration.

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness.

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal.

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft.

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected.

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red.

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction.

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind.

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose.

They were David fucking Bowie’s.

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone.

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how?

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down.

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth.

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been.

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there.

And the stars look very different today…

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence?

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here?

For here, am I sitting in a tin can?

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room.

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time.

“Something the matter, dear?”

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again.

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?”

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke.

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you.

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant.

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission.

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…”

“As you wish, darling.”

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor.

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?”

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been.

“As you wish, darling.”

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice.

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over.

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly.

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?”

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously.

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?”

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest.

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…”

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair.

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…”

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…”

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest.

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him.

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…”

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress.

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party.

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours.

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion.

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since.

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?”

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself.

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place.

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours.

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust.

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it.

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth.

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily.

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you.

You fucking loved it when he did that.

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second.

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them.

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went.

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him.

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction.

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space.

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….”

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand.

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him.

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs.

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you.

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him.

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?”

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack.

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?”

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway.

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine.

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back.

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple.

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday.

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…”

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?”

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes.

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?”

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…”

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted.

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare.

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics.

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast.

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him.

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next?

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him.

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake?

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home.

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…”

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest.

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.”

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…”

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…”

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.”

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment.

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…”

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity.

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?”

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat.

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.”

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room.

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway.

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door.

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality.

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up.

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him.

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling.

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party.

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled.

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?”

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you.

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…”

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it��s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?”

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…”

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?”

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it.

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…”

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…”

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were.

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself.

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?”

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?”

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek.

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!”

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?”

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed.

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?”

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth.

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…”

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a…totally normal part of the process.”

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work.

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense.

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering.

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…”

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips.

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ”

“Sweetheart.”

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…”

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat.

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were.

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.”

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection.

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice.

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too.

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…”

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…”

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…”

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!”

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?”

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance.

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here.

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there.

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…”

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…”

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate.

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it?

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises.

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you’d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay.

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?”

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously.

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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biting-miguel-ohara · 4 months ago

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Solnyshko - Natasha Romanoff x gn!Reader

A/N: I really really wanted to write a small thing for Natasha, so here we are. I set this in a 2012ish era, which is why the Avengers live at the Tower and such. I might do something more with this Reader and their powers in a future story as well.

Also, solnyshko means little sun in Russian. It’s the only potentially gendered language in the fic

Dividers by @/whimsicalrogers

CW: fluff, language, soft Natasha, Natasha speaks Russian, Reader is a former SHIELD agent, Reader has powers, failed missions, mentions of blood and injury, very very light angst, a forehead kiss, soft ending, probably ooc Natasha

640 words

“Hey, Nat,” you greet the red-haired Avenger with a sleepy smile. “Early morning, huh?”

“Good morning, solnyshko.” Natasha smiles back at you, handing you a cup of tea. “I should be saying that to you. You look like you’re still half-asleep.”

You laugh and rub the back of your neck, taking a sip of your drink. “I feel like it. I dunno how you can do early morning missions. I feel like shit.”

Natasha just smiles and pulls out a seat for you at the table.

You’re a former SHIELD agent. One of Barton’s old teammates. You’ve known Natasha since the day she joined.

Now you’re an unofficial member of the new team. The big team. You deal with the remnants of SHIELD for them and they help you train your powers.

You don’t have anything really special. No magic or anything. But your light powers come in handy for making illusions and you’ve been called in several times to help out with Loki when he comes to Earth. So all in all, you’re not complaining.

You take a seat at the table and enjoy the bits of morning you have. You’re leaving in an hour and you want to savor your last moments with the team.

Well, the members of the team who are up. Cap comes in before his morning run, but doesn’t stick around for long. Tony passes through briefly to grab a cup of coffee. The others, you know they won’t be up for another couple of hours at least.

So you enjoy your morning with Natasha. It’s been a while since you and her chatted, and you enjoy the conversation.

Eventually your time is up.

“Wish me luck,” you tell her with a wry smile.

She laughs and gives you a fond look. “You’ll do great. You’re our best, after all.”

You laugh at that and head on out.

Your return isn’t nearly as happy or cheerful.

The mission was a failure. Despite your best efforts, your target got the jump on you and shot you four times. You’d barely made the journey back, your wounds bleeding profusely.

By the time you’re sent to the medbay, you’re woozy with loss of blood. Your steps are sluggish and you lean against the wall for support.

There’s a voice calling your name. Then arms sliding under you, scooping you up.

There’s hair as red as blood brushing against your face. And then your eyes shut.

When you open them again, you’re in your room at the Tower. Your body aches like hell, but you can feel all your limbs.

You shift your arm, your muscles groaning in protest. Still, you force yourself up a bit, before a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“You gotta lie down.” It’s Natasha, looking rather tired and weary. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Fuck the doctor,” you mutter, trying to get up further.

Natasha gently pushes you back down. “Not the time, solnyshko.”

You don’t resist further. Instead, you sigh and stare up at the ceiling. “The mission failed.”

“It wasn’t your fault. We had bad intel.” She toys with the sleeve of your shirt. “Our inside man was a double agent.”

“Still. I could’ve done better.”

She gently flicks your forehead. “Don’t play that game. You did what you could. Getting shot like that would put anyone out of commission.”

You look at her. At her red-as-blood hair. “Even you?”

She smiles faintly. “Even me.”

It makes you feel a bit better and you nod. “Thanks.”

She leans in and kisses your forehead. “Always.”

A yawn overtakes you and you groan softly. Natasha laughs a little. “Go back to sleep. Your wounds need time to heal.”

You yawn again and nod, letting your eyes close. “Goodnight, Nat.”

Her fingers find yours and she gives your hand a light squeeze. “Goodnight, solnyshko. Sweet dreams.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #natasha romonova #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov x you #natasha romanov x gn!reader #x gn reader #gn reader

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stonedgirlstan · 3 months ago

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Loki- Sex Pollen

Warnings: 18+ SMUT AHEAD!!! MINORS DNI. Oral receiving(Female), Teasing (Friendly and sexual), pinning affection toward reader, P in V,

Author’s Note: I hope you guys enjoy this one shot. It’s been a while since I wrote, I’ve been busy with school and since I am finished with school. I can finally get back into it! Also I DO NOT consent to anyone taking my work as their own.

It has been a weird relationship between you and Loki when you joined the Avengers. Tony found how your combat was like Natashas, and how you were an assassin like Bucky. You were a trained killer, did everything on your own for a while, never needed anyone to save you or protect you. Until one night, you were on a mission to kill the leader of Hydra for a pretty penny but it went to shit when the Avengers captured you and needed to know who you were and what your purpose was. You remembered Loki, he was the one that captured you that night.

“My my, what is a pretty thing like you running around here with no one to protect you?” Loki said with a smirk as he trapped you in one of his illusions. He wanted to make sure you though you were trapped in a cage when he saw you sneaking in.

“Fuck you. You don’t get to speak to me that way. You don’t know me.” You hissed as you look for a way out. Loki chuckled at you and steps closer and looks at your eyes with mischief.

“Guess its time for a lesson. I’ll see you when you wake up.” Loki says as everything went black. You had no idea what happened after that. When you woke up, you saw that you were in a bed with a vital machine handcuffed to the bed. You looked around and saw two people you didn’t recognize.

“Where the fuck am I?” You croaked, haven’t noticed your throat is dry. The woman looks at you with a warm smile. She looked familiar, she had short red curly hair, and deep eyes.

“Hello there, I’m Natasha Rumnoff. You are at Avengers Compound. We took you because we have questions about your skills and if you would want to help us take down Hydra.” She said confidently, You looked at her with realization, she was your teacher from the Red Room. But you were able to escape before they could do any other testing on you.

“Ms. Rumnoff, why did you bring me here? I made sure no one could find me in 30 years. I made sure of it.” You said with a drip of anxiety in your tone because you were afraid she would take you back. She chuckled lightly and smiled softly.

“Y/N, I am not part of the red rooms anymore. I got out, I am part of the Avengers. They are my new family and are very accommodating. But Steve and I both need to know who you’ve been working for and if you can be trusted.” She says sitting next to you keeping eye contact. You laughed like a mad woman, you looked at Natasha and the guy she called Steve.

“When I left, I couldn’t afford being found out. I started working as a contract assassin. My associates I worked for were secret and so was I until you guys found me and had me trapped in a cage with a linky man in green.” You said coldly staring at the both of them. They looked a little shocked that you were captured in a cage but they remembered Loki found you first and made sure you won’t leave.

“That's fine, and I want to say now, you are safe, no one is going to force you here and keep you locked up.” Steve said finally after processing everything. He tells you that you need to stay with them for the time being, he informs you how Hydra found out about you and they were gonna capture you themselves and use you like they did his friend Bucky. You reluctantly agree to stay with one condition, that you can talk to Loki about his mind tricks he put on you.

Ever since you came to the compound after the capture, you started to slowly warm up to everyone. You thought Loki hated you with the way he would tease you, but little did he know, you really liked him, his gorgeous eyes, his quirky smile, and the way he fought in battle when you guys went on missions. But you would never tell him that and about this crush you started growing for him after that night. He was different from any other men you’ve seen or been with.

“You know woman, you are making that face again.” Loki says as he looks up from his book, you were admiring his body in that tanktop and pj pants he came down from his room in. You blush and look away,

“What are you even talking about? It’s my face, it’s called RBF” You said trying to be confident even when you are blushing for him seeing you eye fucking him.

“Oh really? So you just look at everyone with them doe eyes and lips puffed out like your about to attack?” Loki says with a smirk, he knows how to make you blush and he finds it cute. You roll your eyes and walk about flipping him off as you leave the kitchen. You wonder if something would change if something can happen between you and him. But he doesn’t like you like that. As you continue walking to the elevator FRIDAY calls for you to inform you that you need to see Fury and Steve, they have a mission for you. You sign and go up to the office where they were located.

“Hi Y/N, we have a mission, there is an abandoned HYDRA base. We need you and Loki to go get any details they left and bring it home. We know they were trying to experiment on women and super soldiers into making sex last longer and in hope they would repopulate some soldiers. They were not successful, hopefully. So we need you guys to go look around and find the plant and paperwork on it. It is very dangerous and I know you are the two for the team.” Fury says as he lays everything out letting you read into more. You didn’t notice Loki arrived until you heard him make a joke.

“Well, looks like this will be fun. Won’t it bunny? Hopefully you don’t get scared if you get caught in a cage again.” Loki smirks as he reads the papers over your shoulder before grabbing it from your hands. You roll your eyes and chuckle at that since it was HIS fault you were “stuck” in a cage to begin with.

“Yeah yeah, we get it Loki.” You said as you walked up to the monitors to get the jet ready for our trip. After getting everything detailed, you walk out of the room to go to your room and grab your bag. You take a few deep breaths even though you’ve been on a few missions with Loki, you guys have never been just the two of you. Bucky and Natasha normally join you, but this time it is just you and Loki.

“Y/N are you ready?” Loki says as he approaches you while behind you as you walk out of your room facing the door taking breaths. You jump a little because you had no idea he was behind you.

“Uh- Uh yes, I am ready.” You say as you calm down from the scare. You roll your eyes and head to the jet. You put in the coordinates to the locate you are needing to go, you sit in the front to get it off the ground and go so then you put it in autopilot to get started.

—

You guys finally arrive at the abandoned HYDRA base. You look over everything, you know the flower, if it is still in the base, looked like red petals with a pink stem that glows like gold/red. Loki isn’t looking at the flower, he is looking at you. He loves the way your red and black jumpsuit hugs you curves and makes your ass look around. He is about to say something when saw you grab your knife, your glock, and your half face mask.

“Are you ready Loki?” You say, you noticed he was eyefucking you from behind after grabbing everything you need to go inside. He coughs and nods, he follows closely behind you.

“You know, for being a human, you sure know what you're doing. How do you know about this flower? You seemed a bit concerned when Fury brought it up.” Loki stated as he watched you stop in your tracks. You turn around to look at him.

“Believe or not GOD, I had a run into this flower before on one of my contracts. They had a boobtrap spray and I miscaulated it and got hit right in the face. It isn’t something to be reckoned with. It causes very high things that you may have never experienced before.” You said with a smile, you continued down the hallway. You stay quiet while you know Loki is trying to say something clever back to you since you basically called him a virgin. You see in front of you there is a door opened. You see the glowing flower, you slightly stiffen. Loki walked into you as you stopped because you had BAD memories about this flower.

“Why did you stop.” Loki asked as he fell back a bit. All you could do was point, he looks where you’re pointing at. Seeing the flower, Loki decides he is gonna worp into the room to received the flower since that is part of their main mission. Y/N scream ‘NOOOOO’ as Loki gets closer, he picks up the flower and it sprays its mist in his face. Loki coughs as he drops the plant. Y/N was quick enough to grab it before it broke. You didn’t inhale any of the mist, your mask was made for something like this, you put it into the bag to keep it safe and contained while you saw the papers next to where the plant was and gather as needed. You look back at Loki when you are done. He is staring deeply at you. His eyes are blown out with lust, he is sweating profusely. You swallow hard when you call for him to get his attention. You know the effects on this plant happens within seconds.

“Lo-Loki?” You stutter as you walk slowly to him. He just groans at the sound of your voice.

“Wh-what is-is happening?” He asked as he wipes his forehead. He is getting hotter by the minute, he needs to take off his suit, as he starts to you call for him again. He stops and looks at you. He groans because he want to take you right now over that table, watch your sweet ass bounce everytime he thrusts.

“It’s the flower, we need to get back to the compound now.” You say as you brush past him and starting heading toward the jet, but you were stopped by his hand grasping hard on your forearm. You look up and see his face more.

“It hurts, I’ve never felt like this before. What is this plant doing to me?” He says as calm as he can as he is squirming in his pants for you.

“The plant is called ‘Sex Pollen’ it heights all of your sexual needs and fantasies. You aren’t going to stop sweating or feeling hot until you get a release… inside of a hole.” You say as you shake him off. You know he can fight it if he tries, he is the God of Mischief. You both head back to the jet without another word. He is right on you, you can feel his hands sliding up your body creasing your curves.

“Loki, you gotta stop… please. I want you to take this. It’ll help you.” You offer him water and a sleeping pill to hopefully help him fall asleep and stay asleep on your way back. His eyes were black looking back at you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like to be handled like this… I am trying to help myself but its hard… you are so ravishing. I know you don’t deserve this.” He says sweetly as he picks you up and places him on his lap. You are shocked at how close you guys are. You swallow, he allows you to give him the pill and the cup of water. He goans at how hot your feel in your suit. You help him lay down as you walk out of the room. You know that he is only being like this because you are the only one here. He brings home women every night, you know you aren’t his type. As you set home, you sit and take a small nap to help you understand everything that just happened.

—

As you & Loki makes it back, Bruce, Tony, Thor, Natasha, and Bucky run to the jet to check on you guys and get Loki to quarantine since he was sprayed. Bruce, Thor, and Tony take Loki who is stringing while being carried out. Natasha and Bucky come to your side, they saw how distraught you were. Your hair was matted to your face, face flushed, and you wouldn’t look them in the eyes while they asked what happened. You had a nightmare and it made you fall into mute like you were back in the Red Rooms. Bucky scooped you up and carried you to your room with Natasha by his side. They knew it was rough for you to be back around that flower. They had some of it before when they were captured, it made Bucky sick that he couldn’t go because originally was supposed to be with you. But he decided at the last minute to say no and take Loki instead. Natasha runs a hot bath for you and helps you out of your suit and into the bath. She starts singing Feelings fade, it was the one song that helped you during the darkest times in the Red Room.

—

Loki wakes up in pain, he is still hot, his hair matted to his neck. He has a very hard cock straining in his pants. He longs for you but doesn’t want to seem desperate to you since he has been mean in playful way, he doesn’t think you’ll want him, he has longed for you. Every woman he brings back to have sex with. He thinks of you the entire time, the way he thinks you’ll feel milking him dry, how sweet your voice would sound moaning for him. He finally noticed that he was alone in quarantine. He makes a break to your room using his magic, because he is desperate and needs a release. He wants you to be his. He walked into your room through his protal, and saw that you were awake. Wearing a tight tank top and pajama shorts sitting in bed writing. You heard him before he walked through, you ignore him because you know he is still high on the mist and just needs a release,

“What are you doing here loki?” you said not looking up at him. He groans at the sound of your voice. It was feels like sweet honey.

“Y/N… I really hate to ask… but… can I lay with you? I can’t find any kind of release with my hands… I want you…” Loki says looking at your with hooded eyes as he starts to strip in front of you. You choke out a laugh because he has to be kidding right? Out of everyone he wants you?

“Loki, I don’t think that’s a good idea.. You don’t even like me. We only get along for everyone's sake. But deep down, you don’t like me.” You said finally looking up and seeing him naked. How defined his muscles looked, his v-line that ran down his waist right to his big red precum oozing cock. You choke a bit, he is more beautiful then you ever imagined..

“Y/N, it is below me to ask you, but you are the only human in my eyes. Yes I’ve laid with other women but I couldn't get you out of my head. I thought about you everytime, wondering how you felt beneath me. Panting… Moaning… clawing me and begging me. Woman, I am in love with you.” Loki says as he walks up to your bed, sitting down caressing your calf before slowly moving them up. You thought for a minute about his sweet words, maybe he did feel the same way about you as you felt about him. You place your notebook and pen down and look at him, he is completely fucked out by this flower. You feel compelled to help since you felt like it was your fault. You look up at him and move closer.

“I guess I’ll help. But I’d like to talk about these feelings after since you’re currently on drugs.” You say as you close into him with a kiss, his lips were so soft yet a bit chapped from him biting his lip. He lunges into the kiss grabbing your waist as he pulls you close to him, he nips at your lips to open them up, you moan light which makes him feral. He grabs your shorts and pulls them off, almost ripping them. You gasp at the motion, he lays you down and starts to eat you out like a starved man.

“Oh Loki, ooooh’ You moaned as you get a grip of his black locks in your fingers. He groans against you, using his tongue. He is staring at you as your back arches, you were seeing stars.

“Loki, I am about- fuck- about to cu– cum.” You whine out as you felt like it was about to snap.

“Cum for me.” He says as he sucks faster on your clit, he puts two fingers in you scissoring fast for your release. You arch up and cum hard all over him, he starting rutting against the bed, needing to desperately. He looks at you like a mad man ready to ravish your goods.

“I can’t wait any longer, I need to be inside of you.” Loki says as he rubs his head up and down your slit before pushing it in. He groans at how tight you are and how wet you are. He stills for just a moment before moving, his pace was brutal. You’ve never thought this would happen within the time you’ve known him but you know he is under drugs currently and you don’t know if he really means what he said.

“Oh… OH MY…” You said as he kissed your cervix with every thrust, clawing his back. You haven’t felt like this before, you are so full of emotion. You didn’t notice you were crying till Loki hauled his movements and touched your cheek.

“Pet, what is wrong? Am I hurting you?” He asked as he slowly pulled out of you, he is still drugged and needs a release but you being sad makes his heart break. You shake it off and continue but he stops you.

“I know that I am drugged but I want to be frank. Y/N, I am very much in love with you. I have wanted you since the first day of meeting you, when I captured you in the cage. I love the way your hair flows, how stubborn you are when we do missions. Everything about you has captured me… which is weird because I never had these feelings before and I am TERRIFIED because I don’t want my heart broken.” Loki says as he caresses your cheek looking deeply into your eyes as he slowly thrusted into you lovely. You sigh,

“Loki, I am in love with you as well. It took a while because I thought you were a total ass, but you grew on me with your witty comments and teasing. I am crying because I am full of emotion because finally it happened, not the way I wanted, but it happened. Now let's get this out of your system so we can have a coherent conversation.” You say, as you pull him into a deep heated kiss, he growls against your lips and starts thrusting faster. He pulls away from the kiss and smirks, he flips you over so he is able to get you on your hands and knees, has he thrust harder pushing you face down as he has one hand on your hip, the other on your neck. You are close, you feel the coil in your belly tighten.

“Loki, I am about- bout to- fuck- cum.” You stutter as you grip his cock tightly as he fucks into hard. He groans at the feeling of you.

“Cum for me, I am close.” He says as he pumps hard into you, you finally let it snap and you cum hard, thinking might have even squirted on him with how much you came. He moans at the feeling and releases deep in you holding you still against him as he doesn’t want to lose the heat. He finally after a few minutes slowly pulls out and lays you on the bed as he walks to the bathroom. He comes back with a washcloth to help you clean up, you are very sore from tonight's actions and all you want to do is sleep. But Loki has other plans.

“Y/N, I want you to know, I’ll be here in the morning when you wake up. I want to give us a chance and you deserve a date. I’d like to be your boyfriend if you will have me.” Loki says, stroking your face softly.

“Of course Loki, I’d like that.” You smile, you move closer to cuddle and lean up to kiss him goodnight before passing out.

#dark loki smut #loki smut #@mischiefmaker615

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