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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months

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My Girl [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot] Literally just smut. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Avenger!Loki. Language. (Slightly) Possessive Loki. Loki tying his hair up during sex. (w/c 1.8k)

Loki surfaces from between your legs, strands of loose hair grazing against the delicate skin.

Your eyes are sealed from pure pleasure, the feeling of his wet lips working up one trembling thigh making you mewl his name in broken breaths. Five? Seven? You’d lost count.

He chuckles quietly to himself.

His fingers dance down your hips where they were hooked beneath your legs, a final biting kiss signalling the understated finale of his favourite repertoire.

“How tempting it is," he rumbles softly, " to see if you can take one more."

You open your eyes, lessening the punishing grip on his forearm.

Loki’s hair is a mess, mussed and wild from your fingers tangling through its lengths. It surrounds his angular features with the lustre of a Raphaelite halo, blended back into the darkness.

The glow of fairy-lights draped around your bedposts illuminate the glint in his eyes. Dark shadows caress the carve of his cheekbones as he sits back on his haunches, stroking himself leisurely.

He’s always hard when he pleasures you. However long it lasts.

As tempting as it is to watch him work, you find yourself rising; leaning forwards to catch him in a hungry kiss. “I need you,” you pant into his open mouth, fingers finding their way to the fist snug around the base of his cock.

Loki pauses, smouldering down. Your legs are spread open, bent at the knee. He kneels between them, the muscled expanse of his torso rising like rock from the sea.

All you want is him. All of him, always.

“Need me?” he purrs, feigned incredulity followed by a slow tut. “I must do better if my girl is still not satisfied.”

You place a loving slap on his shoulder.

The god bites his lip, gaze dropping to your breasts while his palms slide up your waist. They cup your curves, thumbs toying with your nipples as he pushes you lightly back to the pillow.

“I need you inside me,” you specify with an air of playful sarcasm.

Loki’s dimples flash while your eyes drop to his manhood, thick and hard and ready to fuck you.

“See what you do to me?” he says with a squeeze of his hand around the tip of his cock.

A pearl of pre-cum sparkles. The guttural sound which rumbles in his throat makes you clench.

You can feel a fresh rivulet of desire descend between your folds. Slowly, you work back to his delicate smile, a ring of moisture still glistening around his mouth. It’s smeared up his cheeks. Long winds of hair cling to his jawline, sealed to your arousal on his skin. He peels one off with understated grace.

Loki rakes a hand through his hair; wild again. Waves fan out like onyx flame behind the chariot of his devastating features, each tendril like the stroke of a madman’s brush.

He releases his grip of himself, and with one purposeful pump of his powerful thighs a hand lands on the mattress by your shoulder. You raise a foot, helpless to resist a brush of it against the curve of his ass as he hovers above. The god’s other hand sinks into the bed on your left with a soft thump.

“You are perfect,” he murmurs, nose brushing down your forehead, your eye socket, before his lips fasten to your own.

You can feel the hard column of flesh between his legs press upwards against your slit. It pulses eagerly. He slides back and forth, sending sparks of pleasure zinging through your core. With every wax and wane of his all-consuming kiss, he gyrates. Ragged breaths heave in his chest with each clench of his muscular ass, the pull of his foreskin against your heat building a growl.

Delayed gratification is a drug for your god. And you, his girl, indulge him.

He breaks from your lips, a strand of saliva dangling as his forehead rests against yours.

The veil of his curls shields you in darkness, only the hot mist of his heavy pants filling the space between you. It’s all you can do not to reach down and guide his cock deep inside. Right now, it might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But you allow Loki the theatre of his seduction. Encourage, even.

He’s desperate for you. It shows.

And you love it.

Your fingertips comb past his temples, the flash of half-lidded eyes coming into view.

His eyebrows rise a fraction, a strangled yes from your lips all the encouragement he needs. With a shift of his hips, Loki’s eyes flutter closed as the crown of his cock squeezes inside your cunt.

A deep groan fills the air, his mouth hanging open.

A long curl drips over his parted lips, buffeting gently with every pant as your lover bottoms out.

He thrusts slowly as you buck your hips to meet him, rolling as one. Thick veins in his cock tug your delicate walls, flushed with the glorious weight of his need.

Your god’s hair swings around your face, dirty mutterings of devotion blasting the shell of your ear. That velvet voice absorbs into your soul like wine on tissue paper. Nothing feels as good as Loki’s cock. The way it massages the hidden depths of you, the pull of his pubic hair against your clit; the way that he can flick his hips that makes your eyes roll back.

The way he fills you so completely. He knows you; his girl.

Loki leans back on his knees, fingers wrapping around your hips and raising them. He slides in and out, enjoying every drag of your walls along his pulsing length. Those long digits knead down your thighs, spreading. Your chin is tilted to the ceiling, drowning in love-drunk chants of his name before Loki grunts.

His fluid thrusts slow.

You look up, frowning gently as he raises a hand to his side.

The god’s heavy smoulder hangs in the air like woodsmoke, chiselled torso towering over you; jet-black mane hanging sluttishly around the dagger of his jaw.

“Loki wha-” you slur, beginning to rise to your elbows. The will is knocked out of you with another of your lover’s glacial, mind-bending thrusts.

You fall back to the pillow with a gasp of his name.

“I simply wish to observe it, unobstructed,” he drawls stoically – only a tiny quiver in his voice betraying the heightened arousal searing through his veins. The warm glow of the fairy-lights is interrupted by a flash of green.

You squirm, clenching around Loki’s cock as a single circular hair-tie appears between the god’s thumb and forefinger.

“Observe what?” you manage to pant as you paw at his chest. Your pads catch in waves against the flex of his abdominals.

Loki casually sweeps his hair back from his shoulders.

Gripping with one hand, fingertips rake the tendrils cascading over his brow. He draws it back, winding the sex-dampened hair into a messy bun. You clench again.

The angles of his jaw slice into view, gatekeeper to the long thick of his neck. Veins strain beneath skin. The blood pumping within them pulses to the beat of his cock. He tilts his head.

“This,” he says darkly.

He slides his hands under your legs, hoisting them onto his shoulders. There’s a slurp as Loki’s tip pops from your entrance.

The sudden emptiness makes a gnawing hunger stir deep in your belly. The god’s cock presses gently against the squelch of your sex as he positions you with ease, fingertips sinking into the plump muscle of your calves.

Your eyes squeeze shut as Loki pushes inside you – so deep that you think you might break.

He pauses, and you can feel the primal weight of his stare roaming your face. You know that your skin is hot, that the backs of your thighs pressed against Loki’s chest slap with sweat and sex. You know that your face is contorted in pleasure, that he is fighting the urge to slam into his climax like the wild beast he is.

With difficulty, your eyelids open. Strands hang loose from his bun, flirting against his cheekbones; already falling free. Dark lashes fan against his cheek as he slides out your pussy with an obscene squelch. A deep frown appears on his forehead while he watches it disappear again, slowly.

So slowly.

“F-f-fuck-k,” he groans loudly.

A muscle in his jawline bobs as teeth clench, and you remind yourself with a prayer of thanks that Loki buried deep in your cunt is the most beautiful sight in the universe.

His fingers move from your calves to your wrists, drawing them above your head. Instinctually your digits curl around the cool metal bars of the bedstead. The god’s grip tightens, just for a moment.

“My girl,” he rumbles as he stares deep into your eyes. In this moment, more than any other, you are his.

Loki leans forward, his tongue demanding entrance and you melt into him. The weight of him bears down, squeezing air from your lungs as he fucks into you. Bucking your hips, Loki slips deeper. An untoned moan rips the air, his thrusts tripping as one of his hands palms your breasts.

You groan his name, sobbing the syllables as the fingers of his right hand curl tighter against your wrists.

More rogue strands of hair have fallen from his top-knot, sticking to his shoulders. One swings against his cheek, eyebrows peaked as climax threatens to overwhelm him.

“Do you w-want me to fill you, darling-” he grunts rhetorically, a whine snaking from his throat.

You yank your wrists from his grip, making Loki’s hand fly to the frame. It rattles the metal, the bed beginning to shake. “Fucking fill me, Loki” you cry so loudly the whole floor could hear. But you don’t care.

“Fill you with my...se- seed? My raw power, my n-norns, fuck-k-k,”

“-dripping out of me, down my thighs- Loki...please,”

Loki shudders, the ripples of his obliques between your legs making your vision blur.

You clench a final time around his cock, Loki’s head falling back. Dark tendrils fall with abandon from his topknot now, sticking against his brow. His whoreish slut-drunk form on full display as he releases a thundering rip of your name.

Hot cum throbs in a gush against your walls, the judder of your lover’s hips delivering a final wave of pleasure to your deepest centre.

Your calves tighten around his shoulders as Loki falls forward. His face buries in the curve of your neck, gyrating slowly as you milk him to completion.

Cum wells around your entrance, the filthy slurp complimenting the wet lap of Loki’s kiss. He purrs against your mouth as climax ebbs, lower your legs gently by his sides.

“My girl,” he hums quietly, before placing a kiss on your collarbone you already know will bruise.

“My girl.”

(thanks @glitchquake for reminding me Loki with a bun was hot AF❤️

Tags (cont in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #lokismut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki laufeyson smut #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki oneshot

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writing-my-own-ending · 2 years

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Taking Prompts and Ideas for fanfiction ones oneshots! Fandoms listed below; I write for a variety of ships either reply to this post or DM me!

Fandoms:

911

Agents of Shield

Almighty Johnsons

Avengers/MCU

Being Human UK

Bones

Boondock Saints

Breakfast with Scot

Breakout Kings

Criminal Minds

CSI Miami

CSI NY

Daredevil

Defenders

Defending Jacob

Degrassi

Doctor Who

The Expanse

Fast and Furious

The Fosters

Game of Thrones

Ghost Whisperer

Gifted

Gilmore Girls

The Glades

Glee

Gossip

Graceland

Hansel & Gretel Witch Hunters

Hart of Dixie

Harry Potter

Heartland

Heroes

The Hobbit

House

How to Train Your Dragon

Hunger Games

Jurassic World

L Word

Les Mis

Lord of the Rings

Love Simon

Me Before You

Merlin

Night Shift

Numb3rs

Once Upon a Time

One Tree Hill

The Outsiders

Perks of Being a Wallflower

Pirates of the Caribbean

Pitch Perfect

Political Animals

Pretty Little Liars

Real Steel

Rent

Rookie Blue

Shameless

Sinister

Speechless

Sons of Anarchy

Star Trek 2009

Star Wars

Stranger Things

Supernatural

Ten Inch Hero

Trollied

Torchwood

Twilight

Vampire Diaries

Vikings

Walking Dead

Weeds

What Maisie Knew

Whispers

White Collar

X-Men (Movies)

Yu-Gi-Oh

Zoo

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talesofesther · 4 months

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too close to the stars

Loki x Reader

Summary: Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, but a bit of a Christmas spirit might just change that.

A/N: I wish everyone a very happy Christmas. <3

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

The sun peered over the horizon this morning only to shine over the white expanse of snow that covered the grounds of the Avengers Compound.

It had snowed pretty heavily over the night, and as Loki looked out his window, he couldn't help but think that the landscape was rather pleasant to look at—Thor had already made his way outside to shovel snow out of the driveway along with Steve, the once green fields were now a blanket of glistening white, as were the many trees around. The air was cold, but a pleasant kind of cold; it brought a feeling of calmness.

That is, until a rather sharp noise of something scratching the floor outside his bedroom disrupted Loki's peace.

Accepting that another day had begun, the god made his way outside onto the common area, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and putting on his slippers.

As soon as Loki rounded the corner to the spacious living room, his lips hung open in bewilderment and his brows furrowed in mild confusion.

You were standing on the very top of a ladder, stretching your body so you could reach the ceiling trims and lamps, all while holding an ungodly amount of ornaments, string lights, and garlands. It looked like a rather precarious arrangement and Loki found himself worrying for your safety for a moment.

"What on earth are you doing?" Loki asked, exasperated, frozen in place as he watched you.

The ladder wiggled in place when you quickly turned around to face him and Loki nearly bolted forward to catch you if you were to fall. He cursed under his breath when all you did was give him a cheeky smile.

"I'm decorating," you gestured around to the expanse of the living room, which already had most of its nooks and crannies filled with garlands, Santa Claus plushies, stockings, and the like.

Loki's frown only deepened, "We already have decorations." He pointed to the exaggerated Christmas tree that had been standing beside the TV since before the beginning of December. Honestly, he had yet to understand the humans' obsession with said holiday.

You chuckled, and the sound naturally brought the ghost of a smile to Loki's lips as well. "No, silly. I'm decorating for our little Christmas party tomorrow night, I thought the place looked a bit bare still." You winked at him and went back to work.

Loki shook his head, his heart swelling with affection. He was way past denying it already. Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, yet.

With a flick of his wrist, the living room erupted in a myriad of greens, golds, and reds. Each decoration you had on your arms—and more—magically took its rightful place in the walls and between furniture.

A breathless chuckle went past your lips, eyes glinting with amazement as you watched it all unfold. It was incredibly endearing, the way that, despite seeing so much of it, you never ceased to be enchanted by Loki's magic. He secretly took pride in it.

"That's convenient," you mumbled with a faint smile.

"Quite," Loki stated, taking a step closer, "Now please get down from there before you break something and have to spend your precious holiday in the med bay."

You skipped down the ladder as if gravity would bend to your will, were you to fall; the tilt of your lips ever present as you came to stand before Loki, much closer than what would be socially acceptable for ones who said they were merely friends. Yet Loki would never dare to complain. If anything, he held himself back from pulling you even closer.

"Do I detect a hint of worry, trickster?" You raised a brow at him. "Would you miss me if I didn't attend the party?"

Loki chuckled lowly, his smirk was teasing but his eyes avoided yours. "Darling, you're the only reason I'm even going to this party."

You bit your lower lip to keep the smile from getting any bigger, "Flatterer," you breathed.

And Loki loved you like this, all pink cheeks and bashful eyes, as if he had the same effect on you that you had on him. He hardly dared to dream of it. But he allowed himself to bask in these tiny moments by your side.

Then your pinkie hooked around his own, and Loki was putty in your hands.

"Come on, let's take a walk outside, enjoy the sun while it's out." You tugged him toward the elevator, not once letting go of his hand.

It was indeed very pleasant outside, the soft rays of sunlight were just enough to bring a bit of warmth along with the cold winter breeze, the air was fresh to breathe in, and the snowy landscape was beautiful.

Loki's boots crunched the snow and frozen grass underneath as he lazily walked beside you. He'd steal glances at you from time to time, watching as the sunlight shaped your serene profile and how you looked genuinely breathtaking amidst the white horizon. Everything felt perfect for a precious second and Loki wished he could slow down time.

His musing was suddenly interrupted, however, when he was hit in the back of his head with something mildly solid and very cold; causing an oof to escape his lips.

He whipped his head around in your direction only to see you muffling a giggle with one hand, while the other held a snowball.

A halfhearted scoff went past Loki's lips. He raised a hand to brush off the remaining snow from his hair, as a mischievous smirk painted his features, "You little minx, you have no idea what you've gotten yourselves into."

A mix of a squeak and a chuckle fell past your lips the moment Loki bolted towards you and you naturally sped off in the opposite direction. You struggled to run amidst the rather thick snow and Loki took the advantage to bunch up a snowball of his own and hit you square in the back.

By the time you had made it back inside the Compound, you both had nearly run two full laps of the whole yard and were a mess of snow-covered clothes and breathless laughs.

"I.. win," you spoke in between deep breaths, one hand resting on Loki's chest to brace yourself.

"Absolutely not," Loki frowned as if you'd personally offended him. He took a deep breath himself, gesturing to your snowy clothes, "You're way worse off than I am."

"Uh uh, lies," you insisted. "I hit you way more than you hit me, your aim is shit," you chuckled.

Loki's smile followed yours naturally, he raised a hand to brush wild strands of your hair away from your eyes, his touch all delicate and soft. "You keep telling yourself that, love."

─── ·❆· ───

When the night of the celebration finally arrived, Loki found himself hesitating to get out of his room. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, slowly running a hand over the smooth fabric of his black suit. Did he like what he saw? The person staring back at him? Would you?

It was no secret that, despite accepting his presence, a few wary looks and comments still lingered between his teammates whenever he walked into a room. Loki couldn't blame them, not really. He also couldn't deny that those not-so-kind comments didn't get to him sometimes, much as he'd like to.

But then, there was you, who had never once made him feel unwelcome or unworthy. You who made him coffee in the mornings and always saved him a seat at the table. You who had a smile reserved for him ever since his first day here. You who made his heartbeat stumble and his silver tongue get caught in his mouth.

And Loki so desperately wanted to be someone deserving of all that. Still, he feared he wasn't.

A long sigh went past his lips. With a final tidying of his hair and the tie around his neck, Loki made his way out.

There was music playing in the common area. The several blinking lights you had so meticulously arranged were illuminating the room beautifully, reflecting against the many Christmas ornaments in warm shades of orange in the night. Tony, Thor, and Natasha were hanging out by the bar, with drinks in hand and loose smiles on their faces; Clint and Steve were sitting on the couch, laughing at something that Loki couldn't hear; Bucky and Sam were standing together by the Christmas tree, apparently trying to guess what was inside each present.

A few of their gazes turned as Loki stepped into the room, he could see as well as feel it, the weight resting in each one. He gave a polite smile and nod to no one in particular as his gaze skimmed around, looking for the reason he came. When he couldn't find you, he walked straight to the bar.

Loki leaned his elbows on the glass surface, closing his eyes and breathing in. There was a reason he wasn't overly fond of the team's social gatherings; he felt like an intruder, someone they were merely putting up with.

"Anything special?" Natasha's sultry voice made Loki look up. She stood behind the bar with an inquiring eyebrow raised at him.

"I'm afraid she's not here yet," Loki mumbled, which elicited a low chuckle from Natasha. The spy was a dear friend of yours and probably something close to it for Loki as well, one of the few people here who he knew didn't mind his presence.

"Actually," Natasha started, nodding towards the opening doors of the elevator, "I think she just arrived."

Loki turned around and his breath hitched. You stepped out of the elevator slowly, one hand smoothing out the fabric of your red dress—a gorgeous red dress that hugged your body and accentuated your curves to perfection. Your hair was up in a bun and there was golden jewelry highlighting your features.

The god was frozen in place, entranced by the beauty that was you. He'd never been so taken with anyone like he is with you. And when your eyes met, and a small, timid smile graced your glossy lips, Loki swore he could feel his heartbeat stumble.

You were about to make your way to him when Steve called your name and stole your attention. And then Bruce, and then Sam. Seemed like everyone wanted a piece of you tonight.

Loki had a near-empty drink in hand when you finally managed to walk up to him.

You approached him with a smirk, leaning on the bar just beside him and raising a hand to gently tug on the lapel of his blazer. "Well, don't you clean up nicely, trickster?"

Loki hummed, leaning just a tad closer to you, "I'm not the one everyone is trying to get a hold of this evening." He said lowly, only for you to hear.

"Oh please," you chuckled, briefly avoiding his gaze. "I only have eyes for one person tonight."

A beat of silence passed, even if the room was anything but silent. Tony was going on about one of the many Christmas stories he shared every year, eliciting laughs from your teammates who by now had gathered all around the living room. From the corner of his eye, Loki noticed Bucky trying to straighten the star on the very top of the Christmas tree, the one the soldier himself had knocked over earlier.

You'd be mad, Loki thought. You'd be saying something about manners and being more careful, with a smile on your lips as you easily fixed the golden star yourself.

But instead, you were here; attention solely on Loki, in your little corner of the world as the chatter around you turned to nothing but muffled noise.

Why? He couldn't help but wonder. What could you possibly see on him?

"And who is this lucky gentleman?" Loki asked, his voice suddenly way too quiet as he kept his eyes trained on his half-empty glass, "Or lady?"

Only after you didn't answer, did Loki finally look up at you. There was a soft smile on your lips, painted with a feeling he couldn't name.

"That's a secret," you whispered back and took hold of Loki's glass of champagne, leaving it on top of the bar before closing your hand around his own instead. "Come on."

Loki followed easily, he allowed you to guide him to the balcony, where the cold wind was flowing and the warm lights from inside were nothing but a faded glow coming from the glass doors.

You didn't let go of Loki's hand when you stopped walking, only squeezed it once as you looked up at him with softly furrowed brows and an adorable tilt of your head. "What's wrong? You've been all tense ever since I walked in."

Of course you'd know. Of course you'd notice the stiffness of his shoulders and the guarded look in his eyes. If there was anyone who could read him like an open book, it was you.

A breathy chuckle fell past Loki's lips, he drank in the sight of you in the night; as wisps of your hair flew with the wind and as the light from inside outlined the shape of your features.

"You know it as well as I do that they don't want me here," Loki shot a pointed look at your teammates inside, not accusing, simply stating. "I don't… belong here…" Loki's fingers tangled with yours, his thumb gently brushing the skin of your hand, "With you." The words were nothing but a breath.

You raised your free hand to his face, twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers before you gingerly traced his jaw. "But you do," you took half a step closer to him, your heels bumping his shoes, "You may think that you don't, but you do. I'd miss you greatly if you ever left."

Loki met your gaze again, his eyes a pool of sentiment, walls down and as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him. He leaned into your touch, all soft and pleading. "How could I ever deserve your kindness?" He spoke quietly, almost as if he never meant to say it out loud.

But you heard anyway, and your answer came in the same heartbeat. "You already do, always have." Your voice caught slightly in your throat, overwhelmed with the affection you felt for him.

The softest of smiles graced Loki's lips, the back of his eyes burned and his heart beat out of his chest, for you, for you, for you. He leaned in, biting the inside of his cheek and closing his eyes when you didn't pull away. His lips met your forehead in a lingering kiss, a promise of the thousand words he wished to say to you, of everything you made him feel that he couldn't put into words.

When he pulled away, you were looking up at him with something akin to adoration—maybe he could dare to call it love. Your eyes shining with a twinkle of expectation.

Loki squeezed your hand, feeling his cheeks heat up. "I couldn't break your silly tradition, now could I?" He shot a glance up.

You followed his gaze and finally saw it, a glimmer of green leaves with a small red trinket tying it together, delicately flowing in the wind as it hung by the door, pretty much on top of your head. A mistletoe.

You hummed, a small smirk coming to your lips as you settled back on Loki. "I don't remember putting it there." You raised a brow at him, standing so close you breathed the same air.

"And yet it's there anyway," Loki mumbled, lost in your orbit. His eyes darted down to your lips; it was a quick glance, all timid and boyish, but you caught it.

"So it is," you chuckled quietly, taking hold of the tie around his neck so you could pull him closer still, "And I wouldn't want to break tradition either."

You kissed him then, soft lips fitting with his own like a missing puzzle piece. A quiet gasp of surprise escaped Loki as soon as you closed the distance, yet you were quick to kiss it away, trapping his lower lip between yours and bringing one hand up to tangle in between his hair.

The taste, the feeling of you, put Loki's most beautiful dreams to shame. It's white noise and being submerged underwater all the same time—sweet, warm and tasting like brown sugar and the sip of champagne you had earlier.

The world around faded to nothingness as Loki's hand traced your spine and tugged you flush to him, his breath came in trembling puffs when you pulled away just the tiniest bit. His lips tingled as they brushed against yours again.

What a remarkable mortal you were, to have a god shivering beneath your touch. And selfishly, Loki wouldn't have it any other way.

You opened your eyes slowly, tongue running over your bottom lip as your thumb traced his jaw. You breathed in deeply to catch back the air he whisked out of you.

Loki watched the stars dancing in your eyes, looking down at you as if you were his universe, and delighting in the way you looked up at him as if he were yours. Maybe that's what love was all about.

Your hand trailed down his arm, brushing the fabric of his blazer until you tangled your fingers with his.

Squeezing your hand, Loki smiled. He felt like he belonged, right here by your side.

"Come on, before they open all the gifts without us," you winked, raising your free hand to clean the smudged lipstick by the corner of your mouth.

Loki followed you inside with his cheeks and heart feeling all warm. And if the mistletoe disappeared in a flash of green after you turned around, no one needed to know.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

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daisybvck · 4 months

Text

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 : Bucky Barnes x reader

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : Your superior agent Bucky Barnes just wants the best for you, right ?

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 : 18+, smut, Bucky Barnes as a fucking whole, dubcon/noncon, cockwarming, manipulation, praise

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Bucky had invented a way to manipulate you into fucking him. And honestly; he was pretty proud of himself. When he approached you last week and offered some one-on-one training, you jumped at the chance. No one else is able to perform domain expansions like him, who were you to turn down additional support? You'd do anything to get ahead in your training, and the better you were, the better help you'd be in the field

You were grateful, albeit a little confused when he didn't invite you out to go into the compound gym Instead, he drove you to his apartment.

But that's okay... Right?

He probably has tools and things here he needs to get before he heads out. Although you've never actually seen him use anything besides that blunt butterfly knife. That's okay too, just because he doesn't use any other weapon isn't to say he doesn't have others. It's the only logical explanation as to why you were in his apartment right now. He was finding a spare tool just for you!

Alas, that suspicion was dashed as you watched Bucky remove his tie, calmly. Before you could ask what he was doing, he tied the silk accessory around your neck. You would have objected; but you were just totally lost for words at what was happening. When there was a secure knot around your neck, he tugged you closer to him.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Please remove your clothes... Slowly." he demanded. He backed away to form a gap between you both. He wanted to see you do as you were instructed and enjoy the display. He began unbuttoning the top button his dress shirt.

"I don't_"

"Speak up if you have something to say he interjected, insulting your whispering tone. You couldn't help it. Your throat practically closed all on its own.

"I don't- why are you- how is this going to help?" you stuttered. His vision sharpened in on you. The stuttering displeased him, immensely. “I'm just not sure how removing our clothes is going to make me a better sorcerer.”

"Are you questioning me?"

"No! I just-" you choked as you found yourself being dragged closer to the blonde man before you once again.

He looked down sternly into your eyes, his lips in a tight line as he planned his next words. You knew he was preparing to chew you out. But what he was actually doing was attempting to come up with a plausible lie to manipulate you into thinking this is acceptable conduct from a superior.

"The avengers are all about endurance. Whoever has the weakest will to go on, less energy to fight, will lose. This is to help you. But if you're too selfish-” he trailed off, knowing the idle threat of removing the opportunity from you would have you at his beck and call.

“I’m not selfish! 'm sorry Bucky, just didn't understand!”

“Please... Please help me. I'm so grateful, promise." you whimpered pathetically. You even began to remove your clothing for him, just as he'd asked. Better late than never, he supposes.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

He joins you in continuing to take off more articles of clothing. He's satisfied with the speed you find yourself naked. While shirtless, he pauses to inspect your body.

He has waited an awfully long time to see you like this. In this vulnerable, intimate state. And you're too dense to realise it's all a rouse. But he'll never tell, and he's sure you'll keep it secret too. God forbid any of the others discover his sick little plan. If you're both careful, both smart about this, you could probably do this forever. You feel a little embarrassed under his harsh gaze, using your arms to cover whatever intimate areas as best you can.

He tuts once and shakes his head.

"Don't do that. You have a fine body, beautiful in fact." he admits. You don't really want to uncover yourself, but you do as he asks regardless. He raises his index finger, whistling as he spins it through the air. You obey his speechless command and spin around. You're unsure if he wants you to do a 360° or 180°.

"Stop." he speaks while your back is facing him.

He comes up behind you, palming his hands over the flesh of your right cheek. He knows you're only doing it because you're uncomfortable, but he's revelling in the way you're squirming around under his touch.

Has it been a while for you, perhaps? Just as it had been quite some time for him? You yip as you feel his palm collide with your soft flesh.

"I want you to remove my trousers and underwear for me.” he informs you. You're spun around to be facing him, and soon he's pressing down on your shoulders, indicating that he wants you on your knees. He doesn't mind that you are fumbling and taking too long. He knows this is a lot for you to handle out of the blue. He can see in the way your whole body shakes that you're terrified, but he'll be gentle with you - mostly.

Finally his member springs free and thumps against his chiselled body. Even he cracks a little smile on that serious expression when he notices your eyes bulge in fascination. The little patches of drool forming in the corner of your mouth don't go unnoticed either.

It's so pretty. The prettiest you've ever seen. If Nanami didn't know any better, he'd thinking you were falling in love. He couldn't believe you were genuinely salivating over his dick like this. What else were you meant to do?

The tip was pink and pretty, the type of pink that makes you feel giddy. The head wasn't particularly large, but the slit was delectable, too. A gorgeous hole that you wanted nothing more than to tease with your tongue. And it was already leaking for you. So pearly and drippy. The length was admirable, too. It was a just perfect girth; and not too veiny. Two distinct veins ran along the underside his his length.

You couldn't take it anymore. You had to have it, to taste it. But before you could swallow him up, he yanked on your makeshift leash and tugged you away from his erection.

"Not today.

"But-"

"This is business, not pleasure, remember?" he reminded you. You nodded, dumbly. How could you be so stupid? It was so amusing to him. His sweet, naïve girl. “When I sit down, you're going to sink yourself down onto me." he instructed. You squinted at him in confusion, it seemed like an over explanatory way of saying he wanted to have sex with you.

"You want me to ride you." It's a statement, not a question. Because that is what it sounds like he wants, but he shakes his head. What a silly girl you are. There's more to life than fucking.

"I just want your cunt wrapped around me."

Your knees were either side of his thighs as your pussy enveloped his desperate, wanting cock. It shocked you that Bucky was such a gentle kisser, very sweet and tender. Even as he moved from your lips to other parts of your body, he was never rough with you. Featherlight kisses worked down to your neck, your shoulders, and eventually the soft flesh of your breasts.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

This is the extent of your encounter, this is all you'd been doing with him for the last half an hour. His lips and wet tongue felt perfect around your protruding nipples; but now it was nowhere near close to enough. You were so full, full of him, and yet there was no relief. His cock head was nuzzled snuggly in your cunt. It would be so easy for him to fuck up into you, granting both the release you desperately craved. But he had forbade it. He stilled your attempt at riding him by digging his fingers into your hips and slamming you back down in place.

"Sit still for me sweetheart.?

"'s too hard! Too hard Bucky!"

It was embarrassing. Wriggling around in his lap like a desperate virgin. It was out of your control now. Your cunt was soaking wet because of him and he could feel the way your sopping walls clenched around him. Even he has to admit that he can barely hold himself back anymore.

"You're never going to reach my level if you can't endure.

A little pathetic aren't you, hm?" he taunts. It's mean an unnecessary, but it's all part of a larger scheme. If you feel like you've failed, you'll be desperate to do it again and prove him wrong. And he can keep up this charade for as long as he can get away with.

"I- I can't! James please, I can't wait any longer. Fuck me! I need it, need it s'bad!" you are nearly screaming as you beg and plead with him to make your dreams a reality. He hushes you as he repositions himself ever so slightly. He needs to get a more comfortable angle if he wants you to see what he's truly capable of. Bucky kisses the shell of your ear a few times and coos. He's going to make it better, he's going to make you feel better.

"So obedient for me angel, aren't you?" he whispers to you, bouncing you lightly on the length of his cock. It's not enough, you know it and he knows it. He's just getting started. He picks up the pace as he aligns his mouth to whisper into your ear once again. "You're such a good girl when you're begging for cock. the vibrations of his voice traverse directly into your ear and make you shudder. He grunts harshly as his whispering results in your cunt clamping him in a vice grip once again.

"Wanna be a good girl... Wanna be a good agent!" you explain. He shushes you again and praises you for your determination. His thumbs are put to use when tears spill from your eyes; the pleasure of his cock finally pleasing you feeling so heavenly and so intense all in one.

"Good girls... Good agents can endure their training”

“Good girls aren't desperate to get fucked by their superiors." he hums. He does feel a little guilty. He's chastising you for no good reason, after all. He wanted

this just as much as you did - if not more so, in fact. But the way you sniffle at his words dashes any guilt he felt.

You really are a good girl.

“sorry B-Bucky. I'II do- I'II do better n-next time!”

“Promise!" you stutter, hoping to get your point across.

You know you're understood when his index finger and thumb find your chin, tilting your face to his. His lips meet yours in another sweet, delicate kiss.

"Ah, yes." he begins, "Clever girl. Next time."

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unholyhelbig · 13 days

Note

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid.

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

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stevenssacrab · 2 months

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Do You Hate Me?

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Loki mistakes your nervousness around him for hatred, will Loki find out the reason behind apprehension, or how you really feel about him?

Rating: 17+ slight angst

Warnings: Mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1.4k

a/n: Apologies for going MIA, I got sick AGAIN but it was even worse the 2nd time around, feeling much better, hope y'all enjoy some Loki fluff

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

"I'm just putting in my earrings; I'll be right there!" you answer back, getting one last look in; your hair is pinned back with two strands framing the side of your face perfectly, the back flowing down a bit past your shoulder blades, with rhinestones weaved into the strands for that ethereal look, you're wearing an elegant a-line silhouette sage green dress with pink and green flowers embroidered through the expanse of the dress, it hangs off the shoulders with corset detailing in the torso, the sweetheart neckline showing off your collar bones beautifully, the puffy sleeves hiding your delicate arms, tea length, displaying your beige block heels perfectly, every detail of your outfit is elevating an overall polished chic aura you could feel radiating off you from miles away.

"You look perfect. Don't worry, let's move," Wanda calls out, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the elevator, "Isn't it kind of expected to be late to your own party?" you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly.

"Yes, but over an hour late is just rude. Didn't I raise you better?" Wanda responded calmly, fixing her hair in the elevator's mirrored wall, "Yeah, I know, I know," you replied, running your hands over the dress, smoothing out any wrinkles; you've been to tons of parties; that's not what's making you anxious, Thor promised you he'd bring Loki, or at least attempt to, just the thought of the tall, mysterious man makes your palms sweat, working as a biochemist under Bruce's watch was amazing, working with the brightest minds, on the edge of multiple scientific discoveries but for you what made it all worth it was the people you got to meet, you've met some of the world's bravest people, some avengers some not, after getting to know them, they're just like everyone else, they have their ups and downs, close friends, family, but one avenger captured your attention as soon as he walked into the room, it was hard to miss the standard Loki holds himself to, always remaining composed under stress, but he's charm, that's what's really got you in his grasps, he'd win over anyone with ease.

"We're here," Wanda said excitedly, patting your shoulder assuringly, "He'll be here, don't worry," you press your lips together into a thin line and step off the elevator; you suddenly feel a strong arm wrap around your shoulders.

"Hello, Lady Y/N," Thor slurs out, giving you a tight hug; you laugh; he's a couple of drinks in; you look around the room, but Thor cuts you off. "He's not here yet," he says sullenly, giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze; "Come, Lady Natasha has been looking for you," he grabs your hand and pulls.

"You're here!" Natasha excitedly squeals, wrapping her arms tightly around you, "So, where is the lucky fellow?" she teases, gently nudging you with her elbow; she was the first person you told about your feelings for Loki, but she already knew before you even said anything, according to her you can't hide your emotions well, seems like everyone knows how you feel about Loki except for himself, you still don't know if it's for the better or not.

"He's not here yet," you say sadly, but quickly smile; it is your birthday after all; you're not going to let one person determine if you have a good time or not; with your mood having shifted, you motion the bartender over, "three vodka shots please," you asked politely, you've decided, Loki or not, it's going to be a good night.

You walk out of the bathroom, water bottle in hand, open it, and gulp it down, "Not drinking on your big day?" you hear that delectable English accent, and you already know who it is before you've even turned around.

"No, just taking a break," you laugh nervously, shifting your weight. Loki steps closer slowly; you watch him carefully with doe eyes; he grabs your wrist, gasping at the contact, he pulls you into a warm hug; you sigh contentedly and bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent, a delicious musk, Loki pulls away after what feels like only a second. Loki glides his hand down your arm, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps; he captures your hand and lightly kisses it. "Happy Birthday, Lady Y/N," he says smoothly; you giggle giddily, your cheeks heating up quickly.

"Thank you," you say shyly, gently pressing your cool hands to your warm cheeks, "have you been here long?" you ask, tucking the pieces of hair behind your ear, "No, I just got here,” he says coolly, still holding your hand, he gently runs his thumb across your knuckles, you’re trying your best to remain composed, but every fiber of your being is firing off right now.

“Are you alright, dear?” He brings his hand to your hot cheeks. “Y/N, you’re burning up; let’s step outside for a minute,” not waiting for your response, he whisked you away, not that you’d be able to respond; you were still processing how perfectly his hand fit in yours, to your relief you feel the cool air hit your warm face, you breathe a sigh of relief, you didn’t realize how much you needed this, Loki leads you away from the music and chattering, to a calm and quiet place, with a view of the city.

“This is much better,” he uttered; he turned to you, taking in your dress, how perfectly it fits you, the sage green complimenting your complexion magnificently, “you look beautiful,” he spoke just barely above a whisper, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it, your heart skips a beat, this unfathomably gorgeous soul called you beautiful.

“Th-thank you,” you respond, eyes looking at the floor; you know if you meet his eyes, you may explode, “you know this has to be the longest conversation we’ve had; you always seem in a hurry to get away from me,” he admits, laughing nervously, playing with his fingers “did I do something wrong?” He asks, his hurt eyes searching yours for answers; you hadn’t even thought about how your behavior has been affecting him; you’ve been so worried he’d find out your feelings that you’ve cut every conversation short, kept your answer one-worded, all to protect yourself, to protect the scared little girl who’s afraid of rejection. Most of all, to protect your heart from the inevitable disappointment, your heart breaks a little; you had no intention to hurt Loki, to make him think you don’t like him, or worse, hate him.

“No, you didn’t do anything I-“You stop yourself before you can say it; you don’t know if you can go past this point.

“Then what is it? I keep racking my brain, wondering if I’ve done something to upset you or make you hate me, but nothing, please, just tell me why,” he said sorrowfully, inching closer to you.

“Loki, I don’t hate you, I just-“ you uttered, “I just don’t know how to act around you; you are so kind and compassionate, and I just didn’t want you to find out how I feel about you,” you babbled out, “ and I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t live with myself if you thought I hated you, and I understand if you don’t wanna talk to me anymore, I just needed to tell you because I-“ Loki cuts you off with a tender kiss, his hands caressing either side of your face, you melt into his touch, your lips moving in perfect rhythm with each other, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your hands in his hair, playing with the long silk strands, you don’t want this moment to end, he sighs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his body, you pull away to breathe, Loki rests his head against yours, and you both stay there, listening to each others breathing, playing with each other's fingers.

“I could never hate you, Loki,” you confess; Loki chuckles lightly, interlocking your hands together, “you know I always wondered why you always seemed so nervous around me,” he smirks playfully, “shut up, I wasn’t that nervous,” you laughed, playfully smacking his arm, “no? I seem to recall you tripping over yourself in your hurry to get away from me," Loki snickered; you doubled forward in a fit of laughter.

"Okay, maybe I was a little bit nervous," you smiled broadly, "Maybe just a little," Loki teased, pulling you in front of him and hugging you from behind; you sighed and leaned against him, both of you swaying in the cool breeze, relishing in the feeling of bliss that buzzes throughout yours and Loki's body, it's been a pretty good birthday party.

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ginnsbaker · 8 months

Text

Bulletproof (4/?)

Part Summary: There's a new recruit who seems to have taken a liking to you. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies, Gay disasters

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Part Five | Series Masterlist

The newest recruit, Daisy Johnson, seems to have taken a liking to you.

At least, that's what Wanda Maximoff has observed since Daisy's inclusion earlier this week.

From the corner of her eye, Wanda constantly catches the newbie stealing glances at you during training, meals, and even debriefing sessions. It's not that she keeps tabs on you or anything, but she can't help but notice when you catch someone’s attention, especially when that someone seems to be nearly everywhere you are.

In every training session, Wanda notes Daisy choosing to partner up with you or standing close by during briefings. Even in the more relaxed moments within the compound, Daisy seems irresistibly drawn to you. Wanda doesn't miss how Daisy occasionally throws prolonged glances your way, or how she laughs a tad too enthusiastically at something you say.

And it doesn't help that you and she walk on eggshells around each other since your confession in your old cell.

Neither of you has made any attempts to talk to the other again. Not even a glance, as if pretending the other doesn't exist will make that fateful night disappear. But for Wanda, the more she tries to push it out of her mind, the more sharply it edges back in, refusing to be forgotten.

She can't help but wonder: Was it wrong of her to move like that in her sleep? And were you out of line for not waking her up right away?

And more importantly: Were you so repulsed by it that you chose a prison cell over sharing her bed?

All these questions keep swimming in her mind, to the point where she has considered going to whoever handles this sort of stuff at the compound—kind of like an HR Department, but for Avengers. Perhaps a course on understanding boundaries might help you both move past this and start anew.

But then again, addressing it means dealing with it, and right now, just avoiding the whole mess seems so much easier.

As Wanda turns a corner in one of the compound's sprawling hallways, her eyes catch sight of you and Daisy. You’re both laughing, heads thrown back, not a care in the world. Wanda's eyes involuntarily narrow at the sight, taking note of the negligible distance between you two. Daisy's hand is resting lightly on your arm, fingers dancing along the fabric of your shirt as she emphasizes a point in her story.

Wanda tries to walk past nonchalantly, yet can't seem to dispel the feelings that bubble up each time she sees you with Daisy.

It's maddening. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

But they aren't.

And she does.

Wanda's patience is tested to its limits one Saturday afternoon.

Tasked with joining Sam to whip up dinner for the team's weekly movie night, she's diligently chopping vegetables in the expansive kitchen when Daisy sidles up to her.

“Hey, uh, Wanda, right?” Daisy begins, a casual tone to her voice.

Wanda doesn’t even look up as she answers, “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something about Y/N?”

Wanda's grip on the knife tightens just a fraction, her posture stiffening. “I think it’s better if you ask Vision–he monitors all of us even more closely than the cameras we have everywhere.”

As the words leave Wanda's mouth, Vision, who’s been quietly tinkering with a device on the other side of the kitchen, looks up suddenly, his usually stoic face showing a hint of surprise.

“I assure you, I do no such thing,” he starts, his tone a touch defensive. “Monitoring everyone is not part of my programming or my personal interests.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Sure, Vis. Everyone needs a hobby, right?”

Vision clears his throat, looking somewhat flustered, “It is not a 'hobby' of mine.”

Wanda can't help but smirk slightly at Vision's discomfort, her attention briefly diverted from the awkwardness with Daisy. “It's just a joke, Vision. Relax.”

He gives a curt nod, turning his attention back to the device in his hand, though he remains noticeably quiet.

Daisy chuckles lightly, but her curiosity remains unsated. “Anyway, back to Y/N?” She prompts, looking expectantly at Wanda. “Steve mentioned that if anyone on the team knows Y/N best, it'd be you, considering you two shared a room.”

Fucking Steve.

Wanda takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She finally glances up to meet Daisy's eyes, her expression guarded. “What do you want to know?”

“Is Y/N... you know, single? And what do you think of them?”

Wanda's eyebrows shoot up, her eyes sharpening immediately. She places the knife down on the countertop with more force than necessary. “Why do you ask?”

Sam whistles softly, making it obvious he's eavesdropping. “Damn, getting intense over here,” he comments with a grin, making no effort to hide his amusement.

Daisy shoots him an exasperated look, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Trying to have a conversation here, Wilson.”

Ignoring Sam's teasing, Wanda presses, “I just want to know why you're asking.”

Daisy sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “We've been talking a lot, and I was just... curious.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chimes in, “Curious or interested?"

Daisy rolls her eyes. "Nosy much?"

Wanda reaches for the shredder and starts grating all the remaining vegetables rather aggressively.

Sam laughs before lifting the spatula to his lips to sample the soup he’s making. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”

“Why don't you focus on your soup, Sam?” Wanda retorts, though her eyes never leave her task.

Sam smirks, catching the hint of jealousy in Wanda's tone, and decides to push just a little further. “You know, Wanda, if you have something to say about Y/N, now's the time.”

Wanda's eyes flash red for a brief moment. Sam holds his hands up in mock surrender, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face.

Daisy looks between them in confusion.

Taking a moment, Wanda sets the shredder aside and faces Daisy squarely. “Y/N almost risked their life to save mine. If you're looking for a testament to their character, well, actions like that are rare to come by.”

“And as for Y/N’s relationship status,” she continues, a bit reluctantly, “I believe they're single.”

Daisy's gaze becomes gentle, a dreamy quality entering her eyes. “That's... truly heroic,” she whispers, almost to herself. Wanda feels a sudden urge to throw up.

She then flashes a grateful smile at Wanda. “Thanks, Wanda. That means a lot coming from you.”

Wanda merely nods before clearing her throat. “Well, now that that's settled, could someone pass the salt?”

It’s Sam who hands it over, but not before saying, “Try not to add too much. We wouldn't want dinner to be as salty as some people's moods.”

Tony is, unsurprisingly, first in line, eagerly eyeing the roasted vegetables. “If the taste is half as good as the smell, we’re in for a treat tonight.”

Steve chuckles, replying, “I think we can trust Wanda and Sam's culinary skills by now.”

Natasha and Clint are engrossed in a deep conversation about an upcoming mission, while Bruce discusses some new upgrades with Tony. Vision, for his part, is explaining to Peter the intricacies of using Wanda's food processor.

As the chatter continues, Wanda moves to retrieve the centerpiece of the dinner: a golden-brown roasted chicken. She feels everyone's eyes on her, awaiting the moment the chicken will land on the table. However, her gaze is involuntarily drawn to the table where she sees you and Daisy sitting next to each other, laughing about something.

In that split second of distraction, her fingers graze the scalding metal rack of the oven. A sharp hiss escapes her lips, the sudden pain evident on her face. Dropping the oven mitts, she mutters a quick “Excuse me” and dashes off to the nearest bathroom, intending to run the burnt area under cold water.

You notice her quick exit and, after a brief moment of hesitation, quietly follow her. As you near the bathroom, the sound of running water reaches your ears.

Without knocking, you enter. Wanda is cradling her hand, trying to soothe the burn.

Your voice is soft with concern when you speak, “Wanda? Let me help.”

Wanda quickly pulls her hand away from the water, her eyes widening as she registers your arrival. “I’m fine,” she snaps, her posture tensing further. Water drips from her fingers onto the porcelain sink.

You take a hesitant step forward, your intent clear. “I can heal it. Just let me—”

“I said I'm fine,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. “Sometimes it's good to feel pain, you know, heal the natural way. Not everything needs a... quick fix.” She glances pointedly at you, an obvious jab at your abilities.

Your eyes narrow slightly at her comment, but you keep your emotions in check. “It's not about the quick fix, Wanda. It's about helping someone in pain, even if that someone is stubbornly pushing everyone away.”

She sighs, her defenses visibly waning. “Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be out there with Daisy?”

“What’s Daisy got to do with any of this?”

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze. Even if she has an answer ready, she's not sure she'd want to voice it.

With a sharp exhale, your frustration bubbles over.

“Fine,” you say tersely, pointing at her burned hand. “Let it scar then. See if I care.”

Moving swiftly, you leave the bathroom without waiting for her response.

Wanda stays there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to steady herself. When she finally decides to rejoin the team for dinner, she notices the empty spot beside Daisy. You're gone, probably to your room.

Regret coils in her stomach. She didn’t mean for things to escalate like that, especially when all you were trying to do was help.

She hasn't felt this anxious in a long time.

It reminds her of the days after she lost everything that truly mattered.

Checking that everyone is probably asleep, Wanda takes a deep breath and heads towards your room. Her mind races, trying to figure out what to say, how to apologize.

She stops in front of your room and then gently raps on the door, listening intently for any sign of movement inside. “Y/N?” she calls out hesitantly. She doesn't expect the door to open immediately, and when it does, it's not you who answers.

Instead, Daisy stands there, looking a little startled too.

“You…” Wanda hisses slowly before she can catch herself.

Daisy quickly registers Wanda's reaction and raises her hands in a placating manner. “Oh, right. Sorry, this must be weird. My apartment had a plumbing issue, a flood actually. Since I'm joining the team permanently, I made a request for a new room. But until that's sorted, Y/N offered me theirs.”

Wanda's insides churn with a jealousy she can't quite place, but she masks it swiftly, painting on a polite smile. “And where's Y/N now?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.

Daisy bites her lip, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “They're asleep,” she admits. Stepping aside, she reveals you, nestled in a makeshift bed on the floor, blankets arranged around you for some semblance of comfort.

Wanda's eyes soften at the sight of you, but her heart also tightens in anger. You've given up your bed, your comfort, for Daisy. You’re doing for someone else what she’s done for you. It feels like an invasion of something she thought she exclusively shared with you.

Daisy shifts, catching Wanda's stare. “They wouldn’t listen to me,” she explains, a bit embarrassed. “Kept saying it's fine and that I should take the bed.”

Wanda just nods, a tightness in her voice. “Sounds like them, alright.”

Trying to ease the tension, Daisy adds, “Y/N always talks about you, you know. In a good way. Maybe you two should just... chat.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a little surprised. “They do?”

Daisy chuckles. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Night."

“Night,” Wanda murmurs, still looking at you.

Once Daisy’s gone, Wanda hesitates. Part of her wants to barge in, shake you awake, and have that long overdue talk. Instead, she absentmindedly touches the burn on her hand, its sting a reminder of how you tried to help her earlier. It's jarring to think that you, even after avoiding each other for days, were ready to heal her.

And damn, it hurts. Not the burn, but the realization of how much she misses you.

Wanda doesn’t get any chances to talk to you for the next several days because you–along with Natasha, Daisy and Vision are called away to a mission.

Each day you’re away, Wanda feels the weight of anxiety pressing down on her chest. She can’t help but worry, replaying every worst-case scenario in her mind. She catches herself multiple times pacing by the control room, asking for updates, or staring out at the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to return.

When word finally arrives that the quinjet is en route back to the compound, Wanda finds herself in the hangar before she’s even consciously made the decision to be there. Steve stands next to her, his face betraying his own relief. A few other team members have gathered too, all awaiting the return of their comrades.

The roar of the quinjet’s engines fills the air as it makes its descent. As the ramp lowers, Wanda's eyes scan the disembarking figures, and they lock onto yours. You look a little worn, a fresh bruise marring your cheek—oddly enough, one you've chosen not to heal. But beyond that, you seem okay.

Her heart swells with relief.

You seem to pause for a second, looking genuinely shocked to see Wanda amongst those waiting. For a moment, your eyes lock. She offers a tentative smile, full of hope, and it seems you're about to approach her. But then, as you step further out of the quinjet, Daisy appears at your side. The way she comfortably intertwines her fingers with yours sends a sharp pang through Wanda's heart and her smile falters.

Steve claps his hands together, attempting to reign in the team's focus. “Alright, debrief. How did it go?”

Natasha, with a deadpan expression, shoots back, “Could’ve gone smoother if you’d packed me a flask, Rogers.”

Steve smirks, shaking his head. “Alright, Romanoff. Just don’t make us wait too long.”

As you approach Wanda, your expression gives away nothing. “Hey,” you murmur, voice neutral. But Wanda’s eyes have darted down to where your hand is connected with Daisy's. Her eyes harden, and when she meets your gaze, they’ve become unreceptive.

Misreading the tightening of Wanda's features as coldness, your frown deepens. You'd thought some time apart might've helped ease the strain between you two, but guess not.

Just as you're about to say something to her–maybe an explanation as to why you’re holding Daisy’s hand–Daisy gives a playful tug on your hand, breaking the moment. “Come on,” she chirps. “Let's head in. I heard there's pizza, and I intend to eat more slices than you.”

You allow Daisy to pull you along, throwing one last glance at Wanda over your shoulder, wishing she'd say something–anything.

But Wanda's back is already turned to you. Her posture rigid, fists clenched at her sides, the knuckles going white. In that moment, Wanda is making a silent vow to herself, one of emotional self-preservation.

She walks away, her heels clicking against the ground with each firm and decisive step. Deep down, the walls she'd slowly been dismantling brick by brick in the face of a potential future with you were being hastily reconstructed.

She’s survived worse things.

Of course, she’ll survive you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #daisy johnson #vision #sam wilson

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welcome-to-green-hills · 18 days

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The Cinematic World of Sonic the Hedgehog!

Recently, Paste hosted an interview with Knuckles producer Toby Ascher about the mini series premiering in April and Sonic 3. Down below are some of the highlights from the interview with the online magazine:

The Knuckles series will focus on our favorite echidna warrior finding a new purpose in the world. He embarks on a personal self-growth journey with “hot mess” Wade Whipple to teach him some discipline/Echidna warrior training.

The mini-series is treated more as a character study. It focuses more on the growth of the characters and who they are.

Toby Ascher explains that there are some “bigger things” that the crew wants to do with SCU.

The “fish-out-of-water comedy” that came from Knuckles at the end of Sonic 2 is what inspired the series.

The series is meant to follow the same tone and direction of the movies in order to tie in with events for Sonic 3.

Character models have been refined and tweaked along the way in order to match the pace of storytelling. As time passes through the films (whether it’s months or years), we see the models of Sonic, Tails, Knuckles and more “grow up.”

Extensive character references have been made of Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles in determining how each one emotes depending on situations. Character study is key here.

There are roughly 1,600 model shots compared to Sonic 1, which had a little over 300.

Toby Ascher explains that if the Knuckles series is successful, then there is potential for more stories/mini-series with other characters. He also explains that the story will be carefully crafted with a purpose to serve the character(s) rather than to make something for the sake of making something.

If the series and the third film are successful in general, then expansion will continue in SCU.

To quote Toby Ascher, “We knew that, with Shadow coming into Sonic 3 and some of the bigger things that we want to do, the Sonic franchise on the movie side is going to be these Avengers-level events. They’re going to be these big, exciting stories that have a lot of different characters. And so what television did for us is it gave us time to go into some of the more supporting characters in depth and really build them out in cool ways.”

#sonic movie #sonic movie 2 #sonic movie 3 #knuckles series #sonic cinematic universe

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somber-sapphic · 3 months

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Snow Daze

〖Summary: Shoveling snow while sick is a nightmare combination.〗

〖Word Count: 2.1k〗

〖Pairing: Wanda x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: Sorry it took so long to get this done, I got sick and couldn't write for the life of me. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and feel free to send me an ask if you'd like to read anything!〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Waking up to fresh snowfall brought different reactions for everyone. Some felt joy upon seeing their ordinary world coated in white, they loved the whimsy that came with the weather. To others it was more frustrating. It was a chore that had to be dealt with as early as possible to make room for the day. You fell into the latter category.

When you woke up on what was supposed to be a lazy Sunday morning you were less than thrilled to see a blanket of snow covering the yard, driveway and cars. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy the snow, you loved watching it fall in large fluffy flakes and every so often you would have a snowball fight with the avengers. Really you loved the snow, but you hated the cleanup. You hated it more with a stuffy nose and a dull ache in your body that clearly indicated that you were getting sick.

There was this little competition among the heroes about who could shovel the most snow, it was their way of turning a chore into a fun workout. You didn’t find it nearly as fun as them. You would rather just get the damn job over with without all of the smack talk and teasing, but they insisted on it.

Wanda had gotten so tired of their antics that she’d dubbed herself ‘maker of the hot coca’ to get out of it. Natasha loved it, she felt great when she could beat the superhumans at anything and generally just enjoyed competition. You participated only because you were a relatively new member of the team (compared to the others) and didn’t want to make yourself look weak.

Staring out at the vast expanse that was the Avengers Compound driveway you couldn’t help but feel a bit of self-pity. You had just woken up and you were already feeling awful. Your nose was so stuffy that you couldn’t breathe through it, but it was also running. Your throat burned every time you swallowed, and you were sure that the cough that would be coming would make it hurt even worse.

It wasn’t like you had much of a choice though, you could hear Steve beginning to yell at everyone to get up and dressed for 20-degree weather. With a harsh sneeze you began to get ready, pulling on the warmest clothes you could find which included doubles of everything. Even with the two layers you were shivering hard, unable to get warm.

You stared at yourself in the small mirror, studying the dark smudges under your eyes and the sickly pallor of your face. Your nostrils were already rimmed red from rubbing them and your lips were badly chapped. Whatever this was it was hitting fast and hard.

A loud knock startled you out of your daze and back into reality. You shuffled to your door, hindered by the extra layers and your own dizziness. Opening it revealed an excited looking Steve with a big smile on his face and wearing winter clothes.

“You ready Y/n? It looks heavy!” He greeted, grinning at you. His joyful tone was baffling, but you were determined to prove yourself as an individual with no powers and far less experience than the others.

“Lets do this.” You croaked, confirming that you sounded as bad as you felt. Steve’s eyebrow twitched and his expression morphed into one of concern, but you brushed it off with a quiet cough and a smile.

“Sorry, my throat is a little dry. I think I need to talk to FRIDAY about increasing the humidity in here.” You said, offering an easy explanation for what could easily be a fluke. The cough had done wonders to clear your throat and you didn’t sound quite as awful. A bit nasally, but not like death.

Cap nodded enthusiastically, too focused on the idea of what he was sure would be an intense workout to really notice the state you were in. If you said you were fine, he was in no place to question you.

“Lets do this!”

You grabbed your coat and followed the superhero out of your bedroom where you practically ran into a very tired looking Wanda. The witch wasn’t sure why it was so important for her to be awake as she was only making cocoa for everyone, but the boys had refused to give her peace.

When she saw you, her eyes went wide, and you couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. The way she looked at you with worry and love, it was just something you’d never seen before meeting her.

When you first joined the team, she had been incredibly kind to you, she’d understood your fear and done everything to make you feel welcome. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall head over heels for her. Thankfully she could read your mind otherwise you never would’ve gotten the courage to ask her out.

“Y/n, are you okay? You look…not great.” She said softly, not wanting to attract the attention of anyone else. You smiled again and nodded slightly, wondering if she could tell that you were lying. You had always been good at it, but you knew that she could sense emotions without trying if they were strong enough.

“I’m fine. I just woke up, that’s it. Will you put marshmallows in my hot cocoa?” You asked, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. The brunette hummed quiet concern, but nodded after a moment and squeezed your hand.

“Of course, baby. Come inside if you need a break, okay? No need to put yourself at risk for a chore, it will get done.” She kissed you, her soft red lips brushing gently against yours. You did the best you could to return the kiss, but it was everything you could do not to fall apart. The last place you wanted to be was outside in the freezing cold, you wanted to be with Wanda who was comfortable and warm. Later you’d find yourself wishing that you gave into that want.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A chesty cough bubbled from your lips as you threw another shovel full of heavy wet snow over your shoulder, but this time you did nothing to suppress it. You no longer cared if someone heard you, you were tired and cold. It had been two hours of moving piles of incredibly heavy snow and you were barely halfway done.

Natasha glanced over at you but said nothing. She’d been watching you deteriorate for a while now but didn’t want to force you inside when you were being so stubborn. She had internally decided that if you didn’t go in soon, she would get Wanda to come get you.

The boys were getting even more competitive as they got bored, and Clint had started throwing snowballs. You were thankful that you were on the other side of the driveway away from that nonsense.

One thing your slightly feverish brain hadn’t considered was that the others might retaliate. What had started as one man throwing a few snowballs had turned into a full-blown snowball fight in less than a minute. You tried to avoid your teams’ antics and just continue with the snow removal, but it was too late for that.

Before you could think to react one very well packed snowball slammed you in the face and another hit the back of your head. You froze as icy slush slid down your back and chest, bypassing your jacket to soak into your soft cotton undershirt. You stared at Steve who had thrown the one that hit your face with an expression of shock and anger that was barely masking tears.

You threw the shovel down and whipped around, a wave of spots dancing in your vision as you began to march back toward the front doors. You glared daggers at Clint who had thrown the other snowball and flipped them both off as you trudged your way through the snow, hot tears beginning to drip down your freezing cheeks.

When you got inside you didn’t even bother taking off your boots, you just stomped through the foyer and to the elevator, pushing the button you knew would get you to the kitchen and your girlfriend.

“Mx. Y/l/n, your vitals indicate—”

“Shut up FRIDAY.” You snapped, coughing aggressively into your elbow as you waited the few seconds for the elevator to get to your floor. You didn’t care what the AI had to say, you knew that you were sick, and you were so angry that all you really wanted to do was scream.

When you finally made it to the kitchen the snow had begun to melt. You stood in front of Wanda dripping and shivering, doing everything you could to keep yourself from sobbing.

“Oh love, you’re freezing.” The brunette breathed, shaking her head as she rushed to comfort you. She began to take off your coat and you just let her. The tears coming faster as her aura of compassion washed over you, reassuring you that you weren’t alone.

The young Sokovian woman set your coat on a chair and pulled you in for a hug, giving you silent permission to break down. You did just that and buried your head in her shoulder as you began to sob out your frustration at the world. Wanda held you like that, crying coughing and sneezing for probably five minutes before she pulled away, seeming not to care that you’d ruined her shirt.

“Come on Y/n/n, let’s get you in bed.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When she said that you expected to be brought to your bedroom, but instead you found her leading you to hers. Once there she helped you change into her softest pajamas and tucked you into her bed without a second thought.

The whole thing happened so fast that your fever clouded brain barely had time to catch up when Wanda left you alone only to return a moment later with a mug of tea.

“Here you go sweetheart. Drink this for me, it’ll warm you up.” Wanda said gently, pushing a mug into your hands. She had never made you any cocoa, she knew that you were getting sick and decided that tea would be best.

“Thanks.” You rasped, not sure what else to say. You’d never really been taken care of before and being sick around your girlfriend was strange. The relationship was still on the newer side, so you were worried about doing something wrong and messing it up.

The witch kissed your forehead and took her seat beside you on the soft bed. She wrapped a blanket around your trembling shoulders and made quiet noises of concern as she fussed, something you found yourself enjoying. It was nice to feel cared for and she did it better than anyone else.

“How about we watch a show while you warm up?” She suggested reaching for the remote on her bedside table. You nodded silently and wiped your nose on your sleeve, your throat hurt, and you weren’t really up to talking anymore. Wanda tilted her head at your action and placed a box of tissues in your lap with a little smile.

“Use these instead.” She directed, turning her attention to the TV. You obliged and grabbed a tissue to blow your nose which was definitely better than just wiping it.

Wanda flipped through channels and began to play with your hair as she did so, dragging her nails in patterns across your skull. The effect was amazing, you instantly felt calmer and settled against her even more, practically melting into her side.

You focused your eyes on whatever show she had put on; it was brightly colored and animated. It didn’t really matter to you what she decided to watch, you were too sick to pay attention to it.

You took a sip of the hot tea, relishing the way it soothed your throat and warmed your insides. The snow had been hell, but you were finally able to relax thanks to your amazing girlfriend. You vowed silently to repay the favor the next time she got sick and go above and beyond to take care of her the same way she was doing for you.

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lokisgoodgirl · 10 months

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The Quickie [Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You and Avenger! Loki escape a work event for something more entertaining. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Language. Dirty talk. Dom!/Switch. Friends w/ Benefits. Squirting (w/c 2.1k)

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the hotel room mirror, cheeks flushed and hair mussed. "They'll be wondering where we are," you panted, as Loki walked you backwards.

“What was I supposed to do when you look like this?” Loki snarled, unbuttoning your flimsy blouse with unnatural speed. Saliva glistened on his chin, red lipstick rubbed in ombre smears against alabaster skin. “Wait?”

He had marched you from the downstairs Expo in full ceremonial battle leathers. Desperate kisses and moans and wandering hands had made the elevator feel more like a dive bar. Your bare cheeks had pressed against the glass as your skirt rode up, grinding against his hips while you hung on to the horns of his helmet. You gasped as your back met the wall, a thumb tilting your head back while he smouldered through half-lidded eyes. His headpiece glimmered in the low lighting, the gilded formality making your knees wobble. The god moaned darkly, one hand slipping between your legs, eyelids batting closed as dexterous fingers played over your soaking slit. “I knew you weren’t wearing anything under here. Knew it,” he groaned, bending forward with one bulging forearm pressed against the wall. The leather creaked. And you were sure you heard the plaster crack. His lips were an inch from yours, the sudden pause in his seductions reminding you of the moment before the predator makes its final, lethal, lunge. Hot breath flooded your nostrils, sweet and heavy with desire. Your fingers toyed with the side-zip of your skirt, raising your sultry gaze to meet his. “There she is, my good girl,” he rasped, as the fabric fell around your ankles. Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up the flat expanse of his triangular chest from the nipped waist to his shoulders. The leather was snug to every angle of his body, a vicious unit of power and sexual devastation wrapped in pure temptation. Just for you. You had learned that fucking Loki Laufeyson was like riding a bull. A girl needed to take control and harness the beast or risk being thrown off and trampled in the dirt. And to be frank, you weren’t sure how much of that was metaphorical. Without breaking eye-contact, you laced his fingers through yours. They were wet. “Come on,” you whispered, enjoying the narrow of his eyes and the clench of his jaw as he fought to contain a smile. On the way to the bedroom, you kicked off your heels. You turned, seductive demeanour turning to a frown. He was naked. “What happened to the-” “-Leather?” Loki cut. “You said it yourself darling, they’ll be wondering where we are,” he purred sarcastically. “And you far take too long undressing me.” His hand ran up your spine, tugging the blouse off with gentle precision. In one fluid motion, he knelt one knee on the bed, sweeping you to lie on your back. “Such a pretty tease, aren’t you?” he goaded, running his knuckles between your breasts. You shivered, feeling yourself melt within the burning pools of his darkened eyes.

The thick ropes of muscle layering his shoulders shifted as he leant over you, the slide of his hand up your bare thigh culminating in a brutal squeeze of your ass. Loki's immaculate cock twitched between his legs, a solitary pearl of wetness lingering tantalisingly at the crease. A macabre smile stretched on his lips, seeing your stare linger on his manhood as it always did.

“I often wonder if you wish to fuck me as often as I wish to fuck you,” he pondered casually as you shuffled backwards to the centre of the mattress. Loki stalked closer on all fours like a beast, his gigantic frame covering you in a cage of muscled, marble eroticism. Your legs widened, knees bent to the ceiling as he took up position between your spread thighs. Loki’s biceps strained under his weight as he lowered his face to yours, the veins taut and thick. And hard. Long tendrils of ebony hair caught against your lips. He sucked your earlobe, releasing it with a wet, licentious sigh. “But then I remember,” he continued smugly, “how you sound when I do...this-”

With a soft exhale of relief, his cock breached your soaking slit. On cue, your back arched in welcome; a melodic gasp of pleasure filling the air. Loki’s lips parted in a silent chuckle, hungry eyes flitting over every inch of your desperately horny features contorted with pleasure. “Ah, my faithful godslut,” he cooed, slurring while he bottoming out with a solid thrust that knocked you back several inches. “Always ready and willing to swallow what I have to give, in any hole...isn’t that right, darling?” You bucked violently against him in protest, pelvic bones thudding. Loki pursed his lips, a silent ooo searing the air while he clenched to deliver another earth-shuddering thrust. Your fingers scraped back his loose hair, letting one hand settle at the base of his scalp. With a sharp tug to the right, he rolled on his back with a guttural groan. His perfect cock’s brief absence was a torture, but a necessary one. Cheeky shit needs a reminder of who he’s talking to, you grit; straddling him and leveraging him back where he belonged. Loki’s huge hands gravitated to your breasts, palms ready to massage upwards with every targeted pump of his ass. You grabbed his exposed wrists, pushing them above his head to the pillow. “I think you’re forgetting something, Laufeyson…” you panted, clenching your cunt teasingly around the tip. Loki frowned, face screwed up at the delicious mischief in which he found himself. “Sure – I take what you give. But you only give what I want,” you sneered. His thick thighs jolted as you began to inch slowly down his shaft, feeling every protruding vein catch on the sensitive rim of your pussy. You smiled, watching him squirm against the mattress. “So just remember who’s really in control here, yeah?”

At your words he let loose a rattling sigh, feigning an escape against the hands gripping his wrists. With every achingly slow movement, the sinews of his neck bulged. His teeth, gritted. God, it was heaven. Breathy pants rumbled from his throat as you increased your speed, slamming back to his pelvis with every waving buck of your hips. “N-norns, kvinne du...avslutter m-meg, uhh-fu-ck,” he stammered, eyes rolling to the ceiling. Your hands slid down the bulge of his forearms, smile twitching. “The end of you, huh? My, my. It doesn’t take much to topple a god after all, then.”

Loki’s freed hands flew to your hips with a snarl, beginning to bounce you mercilessly on his cock. Air puffed from your lungs with every flick of his muscular hips, spread knees bent to the ceiling buffeting you higher; caught only by his iron grasp. The wet of your sex coated his length, sticky threads tangling in invisible strands from your heat to his pubic hair. Your fingernails scraped down his chest, making him hiss. They would mark. Loki snarled again, deep and low and primal as you slapped together. God, he looked so fucking mean. And so fucking sexy. “Just like that. Like that,” he growled with fiery madness. The squeeze of your muscles around his length with every dip of his ridden prick made you squelch. In the bright light of morning-afters, your trysts were nothing. A distraction. A way to pass the time. But at moments like this, in the heat and sweat and filth of erotic battle; the way the two of your moved as one. It was everything. Loki’s jaw hung open, his tongue twitching. His beautiful eyes were closed, proud brow creased as he lost himself inside you. Your clit ground against his pelvis with every shallow edge of his hips, cock pulsing rhythmically against the swollen bundle deep within. The god’s fingers slid possessively around the curve of your ass, the tips digging dangerously into soft flesh. You expected that tomorrow you would be painted once again in the purple and blue hallmarks of his affections. You hoped you would be. Your head fell back, spilling his name to the ceiling as you felt your cunt spasm with pleasure. “Baby,” you gasped, “F-fuck, baby – yes!-” You choked as the world was flipped upside down. Your back landed with a soft thump on the hotel mattress. Loki wasted no time in seating himself between your spread thighs, sinking home inside your sopping cunt with a ragged, cursing moan. “Don’t call me that,” he warned, eyes flashing. You batted your lashes in feigned innocence, trying to hide a smirk. “Don’t call you ‘baby’? Why?” you goaded, before Loki’s tongue jammed inside your mouth, shutting you up. He began to move in pulsating waves, heavy groans on both sides echoing between your open mouths. With a rasping grunt, he began to thumb your clit as he railed you, every powerful rut of his cock pushing you closer to the headboard. Loki’s hair swung around his jawline, glistening sweat misting his brow as his breaths became short. “Close. Going to c-come,” he growled, eloquence forgotten. Your fingernails scratched deep between his shoulder-blades, the warrior muscles tense and primal. “N-not before me, you’re not-” you gasped, bucking upwards. Loki snarled, pushing your knees towards your chin in malicious compliance. “Oh, god,” you howled, the new angle rubbing his thick tip directly against your g-spot. A sudden urge washed over you, the utter inexplicable, unstoppable need to wet yourself cracking through every tingling nerve in your body. You were going to squirt. Hard.

“Loki-” you gaped, arching upwards as he littered the air with dirty praise. The urge was becoming unbearable. Unstoppable, as his cock massaged your most primal centre. “Do it, pretty kvinne,” he spat, panting while a delicate strand of saliva clung to his chin. Dangling. “I can feel it, I want it-” The vein in his forehead bulged as his breaths grew short. “Make a mess, let yourself go, f-fuck min dårlige j-jente.” Orgasm flooded your veins as you squirted around his cock with a strangled cry, welling against your bodies. A scream erupted, forceful ecstasy howling like wind tunnel through your veins. You could feel the ferocity of your arousal swell around his girth, sheer galactic power soldering your bodies together in a swamp of pure sex. Thin liquid washed down your thighs, spreading warm and wild with his continuing shallow rocks against your mound. Loki followed with a thundering moan of your name, the mass of muscle above you shaking and spasming through his climax. Your mess dripped down his legs, smeared against his lower stomach as he rode his release with staggered, choked breaths.

He collapsed on top of you, bulging forearms in a protective triangle above your head before falling to the side.

Watching him breathing for a few seconds, you drew a lazy finger across the tip of his softening cock, collecting a thick trail of fresh cum. You sucked it from your finger, pausing for effect as Loki inevitably opened one eye to watch. He cleared his throat. “That was...relatively pleasing.” You smacked his shoulder. Loki smiled, before his features hardened the way they always did when duty beckoned. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Come, get dressed,” he sniffed.

“I’ll wait here, thanks. You have a better room.” You scooted back against the cushions, crossing your legs and reaching for the remote on the night-stand.

“You will not,” Loki huffed. Your eyebrows rose in reluctant appreciation as leather armour furled over his carved, glistening body, wrapping against his skin like a needy lover. “What’s the problem?” you smiled innocently, while the news channel sprung to life.

His stare cindered into your profile like cigarettes on tissue as you continued, looking ahead. “-you’re going to drag me up here in twenty minutes anyway, when you’re hard because I’ve sucked a straw or something-” “-I’ll be bored. I won’t have anyone to talk to.” Loki scoffed. The petulance was tangible. It was your turn to roll your eyes. “There are like, five hundred people downstairs. You’re a star, everyone wants to talk to-” “-Alright, no one I want to talk to,” Loki snapped, folding his arms. There was silence between you except for the irritating tap of one of his boots on the wooden floor. Wordlessly you turned off the TV, making a regal grasping gesture in the air. The god sighed in resignation, before kneeling to retrieve your discarded blouse. He turned on his knee, holding it aloft to your outstretched hand in a tableau that was almost gallant.

“Are we going to pretend that you didn’t just admit that you actually like me?” you smirked.

Loki frowned, rising to his full height. “I did no such-” You pressed a finger to his parted lips, widening the digits of the other hand against his cock still thick and delicious beneath the leather. “Okay, baby” you hummed, squeezing. His brows slanted, breath hitching as you grazed his lips with yours. “Whatever you say.”

Rough Norwegian kvinne du avslutter meg – woman, you’ll end me min dårlige j-jente – my bad girl

Tags (cont'd in comments) @meowmeow-motherfucker @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @kats72 @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @glitchquake @lokischambermaid @loopsisloops

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