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#avengers x miraculous
angellyslion · 1 year
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BioDad Steve Rogers
Une Marinette de six ans se retrouve devant l'assistante sociale en attendant de voir les résultats de son test d'ADN. Ses parents et ses grands-parents sont morts lors d'un accident de voiture et son oncle vivant en Chine ne veut rien faire avec elle.
La police mène une enquête pour savoir s'il s'agit d'un accident ou si c'est un acte délibérer.Sur sa chaise la fillette balance ses jambes et joue avec son doudou. Se retrouver dans un lieu inconnu et sans ses parents est effrayant pour elle.
« Marinette en lisant tes résultats tu n'es pas lié à la famille Dupain. Ton père biologique habite aux États-Unis. Il s'appelle Steve Rogers. Nous l'avons contacté, il est prêt à t'accueillir si tu acceptes de le rencontrer et de vivre avec lui.
- D'accord, elle murmure.
- Je vais le prévenir. Durant la semaine où vous allez créer des liens tu séjourneras dans un hôtel. Avant de te déposer à l'hôtel, nous allons aller à la boulangerie de tes parents pour que tu puisses récupérer des affaires personnelles.
En quelques minutes, ils atteignent la boulangerie. Marinette monte dans sa chambre récupère quelques affaires notamment ses carnets de dessins et ses stylos ainsi que quelques vêtements et des photographies de sa famille. Elle met le tout dans son sac de cours. Elle redescend sachant au plus profond d'elle qu'elle ne remettra pas les pieds ici et s'il elle devait le faire cela serait dans plusieurs années.
- Pour cette première nuit, je resterai avec toi, reprend l'assistante sociale. Une fois que ton père biologique sera là, je vous laisserai faire connaissance. Dans une semaine, nous nous reverrons et tu décideras si tu veux rester avec ton père biologique ou si tu veux être placée dans un foyer le temps que tu sois adoptée. Tu as compris Marinette ?
- Oui.
- Fais-moi un petit résumé.
- Je dormirai cette nuit à l'hôtel avec vous, demain mon papa que je ne connais pas arrivé. Je resterai avec lui pour quelques jours. Et après ces quelques jours, je choisirai ce que je décide. Soit rester avec ce nouveau papa soit être mit dans un orphelinat.
- Parfait.L'assistante sociale conduit Marinette jusqu'à sa chambre. Elle lui souhaite bonne nuit.
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Aux États-Unis, dans la tour des Avengers, tous les membres présents ont entendu la conversation.
- Félicitation Capsicle ! Bienvenue dans le monde de la paternité !
- Tout dépendra de son choix !
- Tout enfant rêverait d'avoir comme père un super-héros ! Elle t'acceptera !
- Je l'espère.
- Je te prépare le jet pour demain.
- Merci Tony !
- Je t'en prie Capsicle !
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- Marinette voici ton père, Steve Rogers ! Monsieur Rogers voici votre fille, Marinette  ! Je vais vous laisser entre vous. Je serai à côté au moindre problème.
- Oui madame !
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Une semaine plus tard Marinette prend sa décision.
- Alors Marinette que choisie-tu ?
- De vivre avec mon père biologique en Amérique.
- Es-tu sûr de toi ?
- Oui !
- Bien, ton père doit signer quelques papiers et vous serez libre de partir tous les deux
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Je ne suis pas fière de cet os, ça fait plusieurs semaines que je suis dessus. Je n'arrive pas l'écrire et surtout je ne sais pas où l'emmener.
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phantomstatistician · 7 months
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Fandom: Spider-Man
Sample Size: 62,342 crossover stories (all fandoms); 2,583 crossover stories (excluding Marvel)
Source: AO3
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wolfgiselle · 12 days
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Character Reaction Fanfictions (watching the show/movie or reading the books) -Recs -
One of my favorite tropes in fanfiction is characters being forced to watch/read/react to their own stories. Unfortunately, a good majority of these are crap. Readers looking for these stories often have to dig through a lot of coal to find just one diamond in the rough. Here's a list of the ones I’ve managed to find. Ones that aren’t just a written recreation of their source material.
Is This The Way It Ends Now? by Seastar98 (Death Note) (Finished) This is one of my favorite Death Note fanfictions for a reason. It doesn’t make us watch or read the dialogue or action of the show along with the characters; It assumes we’ve already seen it and focuses on the character’s reactions (what we’re actually here for) and gives more character development to some of its minor characters than the actual show managed to do (Mello, Near, and Matt being clear examples. I was happy about this in particular since my favorite characters in Death Note are Matt and Matsuda). L and Light end up together, but romance is not the focus.
Hunter x Hunter / Assassination Classroom by EternalQuestForGoodFics (Finished) Basically, Killua ends up in the Assassination Classroom world. To go home, he must eventually allow his classmates to watch the HunterxHunter series to learn more about him and where he came from. These two fandoms are a great matchup, and Killua is one of the best characters to end up in the AssClass world. Seeing Killua bond and make a new friend out of Nagisa made it worth reading alone. Their reactions are part 2 of the series. 
MHA X Hunter by makifinity (My Hero Academia / Hunter x Hunter) (In progress) This is a good fanfiction where the My Hero Academia characters watch the HunterXHunter anime together instead of their own show. What makes ‘this’ great is how different the two worlds are and the morals that hold them together. I love that the villains are also involved in this viewing room since, in most My Hero reaction fics, the villains are left out of the experience and don’t get to have their own voices and opinions about what is happening on screen.
The Journey of the Unholy Trinity by Arremi (Code Geass) (In progress) If you’ve been in the Code Geass fandom long enough, you’ve probably seen a few of these stories. This one is the longest, most well-written, and most complete I’ve found.
Code Geass: The Blame Game: by AllHailThe99th (Code Geass) (In progress) One thing I like about this Code Geass reaction fic is the author’s obvious and stated hate of the character Suzaku. Suzaku is on my list of most hated characters; I like reading people judging and calling him out constantly on his shit. It’s a very therapeutic read. I recommend it to anyone who felt a similar rage when watching the show.
Appearances by McKinney_Wylis (Marvel / Avengers) (Finished) This story has the Avengers going to Asgard to check on Loki when they find a weird video clip online that scares them into believing Loki may have broken free. It turns out the video clip was from a different universe (our universe), and they suddenly had access to the Marvel movies that were available at that time. They watch the Thor movie and learn things about Loki, unknown before. The watching of Thor actually doesn’t take up the whole fic, but this story still counts. It takes place during the Thor: The Dark World storyline.
In terms of pairings…well, I’ll read any pairing if it’s written well enough. Even a story with Loki and Steve shacking up. I don’t like Steve, but I like how he was written in this fic. The way he and Loki interact is cute enough that I can look past it.
Part of the Journey is the end by hunkahulkaaburningfudge (Marvel / Avengers) This series starts with the characters watching Infinity War and has been going through the continuing movies and TV shows; with great writing and lots of material, this is definitely one of the best. I loved the Wanda and Loki reactions. And the ‘What if?” storylines were hilarious.
Avengers Watch Snippets by Ifihadatardis (Marvel / Avengers) As advertised, the characters watch little snippets of scenes of each other’s lives. Sometimes, these fics are preferable because the characters can learn about each other without going through their entire movies.
All the Days of Our Lives Series by ElrondScribe (Marvel / Avengers) This series has the characters react to Captain America, Iron Man 1, and Iron Man 2. It takes place after Civil War and has them watching the movies in Wakanda. I like the Tony Stark and Pepper focus in these fics, and I thought the writer did well with the other character voices, even for the ones I didn’t like.
School Watches Assassination Classroom by TheSteinsGateFormula (Assassination Classroom) (Finished) This is not just one of the best reaction fanfictions of all time but one of the best, period. The author not only had the original class and teachers watching the show but the entire school (baring the Principal, thank god) yet still managed to keep everyone in character and give everyone a distinctive voice when trying to keep up with so many people.
Attention is given to situations that were mostly glossed over without consequence in the actual show, like the students who came from abusive households. My favorite characters, Nagisa and the younger Asano, get a good amount of attention.
The only negative of this fic is how long it is. Over 700,000 words. It takes some serious reading time, but it’s worth it. Trust me. But once you start, you might not want to stop. Make sure you have the time to dedicate to it.
Lucifer Reacts to Supernatural by SilverWolf7 (Lucifer/Supernatural) As much as I love Supernatural and wish I had more good recs for it, this is one of the best options I can offer in this category. I haven’t seen the show Lucifer yet (I’ve been meaning to), but it didn’t take away from my enjoyment of this fic. Seeing Lucifer’s love of Sam’s character and hearing him rage about many of the things in the show that frustrated me or he thought were inaccurate were giant highlights of this story. Warning: If you’re a Dean fan, you might get defensive about how much Lucifer bashes him (I live for it, but that’s me). One of the other characters that he’s watching it with even rage-quits on him for how much he was dissing her favorite character. If that doesn’t bother you, this might be the fic for you.
Watching You, Watching Me, Watching You by trippedandfellintopurgatory (Supernatural) This is one of the only good Supernatural watching-the-show fics I’ve found. So, of course, it only has 19 chapters, sits at 30,000 words, and has a slow updating schedule.
Blank Disc by TheFallenArchangel (Supernatural) Another of the few good Supernatural watch-the-show fics. This one hasn’t been updated since 2014 and has only seven chapters. Dean and Sam are teenagers, and their father and Bobby watch with them.
The Void by iAnneart (Yugioh: Duel Monster/ Yugioh Abridged) This fanfiction was one that I used to love, and I hate that it still hasn’t been updated and doesn’t look like it ever will be. The characters of Yugioh react to their own abridged series to hilarious effect. This fic was the entire reason I watched the Abridged Series by LittleKuribo - still one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and admittedly much better than the actual show. Another fanfiction is more popular and has them watch more episodes. But this fic was much better written with only ten chapters.
Under a Watchful Eye by my secret thoughts (Harry Potter) A story where the Harry Potter characters read the books. It focuses on Harry and Sirius. There is no actual recitation of the books (thank god), but it’s written well enough to tell what they’re reacting to. So far, this is the only reaction fic like this in the Harry Potter fandom I’ve liked. It takes place during their 5th-year, and the other characters are mostly Order of the Phoenix members.
Truth Revealed by Lucifer swift (Full Metal Alchemist) One of the first reaction fanfictions I ever read. It's been reuploaded on fanfiction.net. In this reaction series, the characters are forced to relive the pain they witness themselves having on screen. Any of you who have seen Full Metal Alchemist know that is leading to an agonizing time.
No such thing as a painless lesson by RoseJennison (My Hero Academia) The best My Hero Academia fanfiction that’s actually still going and might eventually catch up with the episodes…maybe. The characters in this are also forced to suffer the pain they see themselves experiencing onscreen. Think about all the times Midoriya breaks himself and imagine him having to feel all that again continuously.
In the Grasp of Schadenfreude by ThoughtSpinner (My Hero Academia) The parents and teachers/heroes watch the show and find out what's been going on with their children and at school. Needless to say, these parents have a lot of thoughts. 
Reaction Ritual by PreshByPyre (Naruto) This is only six chapters, but I hope the author returns to it. It’s a good idea, and well-written Naruto reaction fics are rare.
A number of fragments by eliscool (Naruto) Exactly what the title suggests. Instead of watching Naruto episode by episode, the characters are watching random fragments of the show and have to try and put together what’s happening. This occurs when Naruto and the kids are still in the Academy - but before Itachi commits the massacre.
Old stories, new discoveries by Daniablazin (Discontinued) (Miraculous Ladybug) This is my favorite Miraculous Ladybug reaction fiction. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go past the first season. It’s been discontinued because the author said they didn’t like where the show was going. A real shame. The writing on this was amazing, and it had serious potential.
What are our children up to? by o0Lithium0o (Teen Wolf) The parents of Teen Wolf from earlier in the timeline get to see what their children are up to and their future. The kids aren't actually in the room with them. Probably for the best. They are so grounded for the foreseeable future once they all get back.
As Above is Below by kswriter (Shadowhunter Series)The characters of the Shadowhunter series (pretty much all of them) sit down to read the books. This goes by the book canon, not the show canon. I mainly love this series for the Mangus and Alec content. This is the only reaction fic I've seen with these characters. 
Reaction: Six of Crows by error_404_gender_not_found (Six of Crows) Characters from Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone reading the Six of Crows books. This ignores the TV show canon.
Honorable Mentions: 1.Watching Hunter x Hunter by catnip_riceball 2.HxH watches Hunter x Hunter by bb_bubblepopb33 3.I Have Regrets, but this Just Might be the Worst of Them Series by by IzuochaRay (My Hero Academia) 4.Cheat code central by orphan_account (My Hero Academia)(Villains react to the show) 5. Mansion Of Time: Watching Season 1 by Perez_K (My Hero Academia) 6. Watching as Hope is Lost by GeorgeFredSlytherin (Code Geass) 7. The Trials and Tribulations of Spider-Man, the People's Hero by ironfidus (Marvel/Spiderman) 8. Glee meets Glee By: babeitscoldoutside (Glee) 9. when the teacup shatters by SolusMormont (Hannibal)
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Lol 😂
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hopefully-u-see-this · 2 months
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Hi!
I'm writing a fantasy novel and would like to know what themes/characterisations/tropes you like or wish there were more of.
I've made a super quick Anonymous survey. 5 questions (multiple choice and short answer) and it will only take 3 mins!
Also tell me which cultures, architectures and character ethnicities you would like more of!
Please reblog or repost to spread the survey to me people!
Thank you!
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Merry Christmas to my favorite fandoms!!
🩷🌿🌷💛💙💗💮🪻💜💝
Happy birthday to Jesus!! :)))))
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latinokaeya-moving · 2 years
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sorry that i’m a hater but i was able to flesh out my opinions out more earlier today while making dumplings and infodumping to harry abt genshin again and like. kaeya’s dad and pierro being the same person doesn’t make sense even just basing it off the very little we know abt them as characters im sorryyyy (and especially not with their implied ideological goals when it comes to what they want wrt khaenriah either)
#x#gi posting#why would a man who’s 500+ years old and has the power title and prestige granted to him from being the leader of an organisation backed by#a literal godamn archon be in the position of relying on a literal child to being the ‘last hope’ of a nation he saw destroyed himself and#now seeks revenge against celestia for… like he doesn’t need to do all that lmao#he’s a Fatui Harbinger…. he’s got better things to do w his time#the actions of kaeyas dad read more as a fringe group clinging to n grasping at straws bc they think a little kid is their#miraculous last form of salvation somehow#also ideologically they don’t even have the same goals kaeyas dad clearly still views khaenriah as something that’s still alive/worth trying#to preserve. pierros lore in the trailer n the mocking mask tells us he’s far past thinking abt khaenriah the nation in that way#he wants to get his revenge against the gods/celestia for what they did to khaenriah but to him khaenriah is already gone#there’s nothing to save. only really avenge#it’s 2am sorry if this doesn’t make sense but like i just really don’t think they’re the same person LMAO i’ll gladly eat my words if hyvs#goes through with it but it would just be really lame#the one way theoretically that it could work would be taking into account weird time shenanigans and pierro being a weirdo deadbeat which.#plausible. but i hate it#just make him the uncle/distant relativeeee pleaseeee if u must#hell they don’t even have to be related like that is also a possibility i’m just saying lmao
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witchofstarss · 1 month
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Olá, há um tempo atrás minha vó acabou fazendo um empréstimo com uma amiga dela para pagar o tratamento de saúde da minha irmã e atualmente estamos com um débito enorme com essa pessoa pois ela cobra juros abusivos. Fiz uma vakinha, quem puder me ajudar
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Anyone want to help me adjust the code on my blog? Or sell me a new layout?
I just want to change the color for the sidebar, but I seem unable to do so. If anyone has/knows a cheap, multi-column layout I can buy, I'm willing to do so.
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peachyjinx · 7 months
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Sunday Morning
Relationship: Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader
Word Count: 2700
Summary: You and Loki finally have some time to yourselves
Warnings: 18+! Smut! Domestic quickie, lots of praise kink, biting, bruising, possessive Loki, affectionate yet intense fucking
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A sliver of warm sun peers between the curtains as you stir awake. You blink your eyes, coming out of your sleep, and take in the comfort of Loki’s expensive bed sheets, letting out a sigh.
Your eyes fall on your lover sleeping peacefully next to you. Normally he was awake before you, but last night was especially tiring for him. You smile as you think about how ravenous he was for you last night, and what an insatiable lover he is. You feel warmth of affection in your chest, and pride that he chooses to be with you. 
The two of you don’t get many moments together alone. A lot of his time he is off world doing God knows what, or you were on missions all over the world with the Avengers. You never knew how long you’d have together before one of you was called away for duty. But miraculously, you were both in New York on a weekend, not having to save anyone. The two of you had a moment of peace to just be together. So naturally, you fucked like rabbits all night long. 
You roll out of bed, the soreness in between your legs becoming more apparent as you make your way to the luxurious bathroom. A low grumble rolls through your stomach, and you realize you’re very hungry. You step into the large shower, turning on the water with a contented sigh.
You think about how nice it is to be at Loki’s apartment as the hot water with perfect pressure pours down your back. Just to exist in his rich world compared to your small apartment at Stark Tower is like a vacation. It feels almost domestic. You don’t know how long you have before you are called back to duty, but you know you want to enjoy every moment you have with Loki. 
The smells of the exotic Asgardian soaps fill the air as you shower. You love using Loki's shampoo, then you smell like him all day- warm spices, hints of pine, and that one scent that you can never quite identify.
Another, angrier stomach growl reminds you your body needs food ASAP. 
You remember the great bakery a block away, and get excited as you increase your speed lathering your body. They have these incredible red pepper bagels that are a favorite in the neighborhood, and you resign yourself to leave immediately after your shower, and share this breakfast experience with Loki when he wakes up.
As you dry yourself, you notice your reflection in the mirror. Small bruises are beginning to form on your hips and arms from where Loki was holding you down last night. You feel a wave of warmth to your core, remembering the night before, and a proud smile spreads across your lips. He did not hold back last night, and you both loved it. 
 You make your way out of his bathroom quietly, so as not to wake him. Your eyes peer over to see him still serenely passed out. What was he doing last week while he was gone? You’ll have to ask him when you get back. 
You quickly dress and scurry out of the room, in search of your purse. His apartment is ridiculously large- he has the entire top floor of the beautiful pre-war building. Large floor to ceiling windows give you a gorgeous view from out of the living space. The building is old, and Loki has changed his surroundings to his liking. It feels like a mix between a palace in Asgard (you assume), and an old mansion in New York.
You chuckle to yourself as you enter the kitchen, remembering you dropped your purse there when Loki picked you up and carried you to his bedroom bridal style. The kitchen was the one room that remained the most untouched. Maybe because Loki wasn’t a cook, and he was used to others making his food. And he could just magically create his meals, which must be nice. 
As your hands grab your purse carelessly thrown onto the counter, a voice calls from behind you, making you yelp in surprise.
“And where do you think you’re going?,” Loki asks while his arms cage you against the counter from behind. He nuzzles his nose in your hair, letting out a low hum.
“Well, I was going to sneak out and get us breakfast. There’s this little bakery and they have the most amazing…”, Loki pushes his body flat against yours, and you feel his hardness against your ass through his silk pajama bottoms. 
Loki begins to place gentle kisses on your neck, making you moan quietly as a shiver runs down your spine. You can never resist him, and he knows it. 
“Nooo Loki, I’ve gotta leave early or the good bagels will sell out..” you cooed as your hips thrust backwards against his hard length. His hands are now wandering up your sides, and gently cupping your breasts. A wave of arousal washes over your body, and your knees are beginning to feel weak. 
"Well I’ve got to sink my cock into that beautiful cunt. And then you can procure all the baked goods you desire", he huskily murmurs in your ear. You let out a breathy whine as you feel yourself getting wetter with need, despite the tenderness in your core. 
“I’m still a bit sore from last night….”. You would definitely let him have his way, but your body is not cooperating. 
“Oh? Was my cock too much for your tiny mortal body? Let me help with that,” He slowly reaches his large hand to your cunt, and you feel a warmth spread over it. The discomfort is gone, and all that’s left is your aching need for him again. Are you even wetter than before? Maybe it was just the pain preventing you from realizing how turned on you already are. You feel the slick soaking your panties and you feel your pulse quicken through your body. 
“That’s convenient,” you giggle, tossing your purse to the side of the smooth quartz countertop. 
“I want to make sure my lover is comfortable….most of the time,” he nips at your neck, making you gasp. His hands are beginning to gently pull your shorts off, and you try in vain to resist him again. But you know you don’t have the strength to not bend to his will at a moment’s notice. 
“Seriously, Loki, I have to go, the bakery opened already and the line is probably around the corner,” you attempt to push yourself away from the counter, but Loki grabs your hips and spins you to look at him. 
Your body is flush with his, and you try to give Loki a serious look while ignoring his naked chest and throbbing cock pressed up against your stomach. You know you’re not fooling him, with the way your body moves against his, your hips betraying you by gently bucking into his thigh. 
He looks beautiful in the morning light, his hair gently tossed from the wild night the two of you had. His eyes look so bright blue, and you find yourself mesmerized because there’s something more this morning. Adoration, affection. It’s not just the pent up lust from two lovers last night. You feel your cheeks burn under his intense stare and you try to look away. He gently reaches his hand towards your chin, holding it in place so his piercing gaze meets yours. 
“I will let you go, but first I need to come inside of that delectable cunt”, Loki purrs with a sinful grin, showing his perfect teeth. 
His head moves downward, and he takes a sharp inhale of your chest while digging his hands into your hips. You feel the hard countertop press into your backside as he presses against you harder, pinning you with his strength.
“Right here will suffice,” a wave of cool rushes around your hips and legs, revealing yourself to be totally naked from the waist down. 
Before you can protest, he lifts you onto the countertop. It’s over, and you know it- you give in and wrap your arms around his neck and bury your fingers into his soft black hair while he skims his nose on the soft curve of your neck.
“You’re insatiable,” you let out a deep groan as Loki runs his fingers through your hair, pulling your head back gently so he can continue to nibble and suck your neck.
“Only for you Darling”, Loki purrs as he nips at your ear. He takes a sharp inhale of your hair, groaning as he pulls his swollen cock out of its confinement and lines himself up at your entrance.  
“I love when you smell like me,” a guttural moan escapes his lips as his cock pushes into you slowly, easily. He pushes into the hilt, as deep as he can bury himself inside of you, and you both let out a loud gasp. Loki’s head falls backwards, exposing his strong neck, showing the veins under his porcelain skin.  He looks so beautiful when he’s fucking you. 
Your hips shift, and your legs wrap around his strong hips, sinking his cock in deep, the angle making you feel completely full. You whine at how good it makes you feel, you never want this to end. He fits you perfectly, like the two of you were made for each other. 
"I fucked you for hours last night and yet I still need you. Your body calls to me like a siren song. I’m so proud of you, you took me so well,” he commends you with a strained voice as he tries to maintain a slow pace. 
Loki thrusts slowly and deliberately as he looks back down at you with eyes filled with possessive desire, his hair falling around his face. He leans down and kisses you deeply, his tongue gently, slowly, exploring your mouth. You return his kiss with intensity, tasting as much of him as you can. 
Your hands claw at his back, feeling the strong muscles move as he holds your legs up and pistons inside of you. You can feel the sweat building between the two of you as your chests touch, the slick building from the heat of your bodies. 
“Oh Darling, I could stay in this beautiful cunt forever,” Loki groans as he tightly grips your hips while his hips snap into you, increasingly harder. He’s trying to savor the moment, but you know he's desperate to cum inside you. 
His compliments intensify your desire for him, to please him, and you can’t get enough of it as you whine under his powerful thrusts.His cock hits that perfect spot deep inside, as he always does. Pressure is building in your core, and you feel your thighs getting sore from the position. He’s been fucking you nonstop since you got here last night, and your body is weak but you just can’t stop- he’s perfectly intoxicating, like a drug you can’t get enough of. You moan loudly at a particularly hard pound of his hips, a lusty haze settling in around you in the atmosphere. 
Loki leans his head to your shoulder and begins to bite more, tasting the area afterwards. You hiss as Loki bites down harder on your shoulder, nearly breaking the skin. Your pussy clenches around him and he gives a dark chuckle.
“You love that, don’t you pet? When I’m rough with you. And you’re so good for me, always pliable and ready. Keep being good for me,” Loki’s pace increases as his possessiveness stirs him on, driving you both wild with desire. 
You feel yourself getting closer to climax as Loki continues to talk, telling you how much he wants you and reminding you who you belong to. He holds your body tight to his, as he begins to pound harder into you. 
“Mmmm you need my marks so that every person whose eyes cast over this perfect body knows that you belong to me,” he bites harder onto your neck and you let out a squeal. He is deliberately trying to bruise you now, while he ruts into you harder and faster at a frenzied pace.
The sounds of your passion echo off of the hard surfaces around you, his kitchen filled with your whines, slapping of wet skin, and Loki's moans and grunts and lurid words sending you over the edge. 
“Loki..oh God..”, you cry, feeling the heat wave all over your body. You can feel the coil tightening in your belly as his throbbing cock massages you deep inside, the angle making it overwhelming, you can’t hold back anymore.  
“Good. Fucking. Girl.”, Loki enunciates each word with a rough thrust, making your toes curl. 
“Look at me, I want to watch you while you come on my cock,” he growls, grabbing your chin to force you to look into his commanding eyes. 
As if your body is at his command, you come, watching him watch you with his pupils blown wide. You grasp at his shoulders and close your eyes tightly as you tumble over the precipice, moaning in a guttural tone you hadn’t heard before. You whine and writhe on him, and Loki bucks erratically into you, losing his rhythm as his firm grip on your hip and back tighten and he desperately seeks his climax.
"You look so beautiful when you come undone on my cock. All mine,” he spits out in a strangled voice, his face contorted in intense pleasure.  Loki plunges his aching length into you as deep as he can, his last powerful thrust sending him over the edge. He shouts as he comes deep inside you, his whole body shuddering as the electricity courses through his veins, his hips still as he empties his seed inside you. 
You both pant and he gasps for air, as he begins to gently pump himself inside of you again, sliding over your overstimulated g spot. You feel yourself tighten around his cock as it massages you, the pressure building again. The sight of Loki coming, and the heightened arousal between the two of you is too much to bear. 
“Oh my….Loki…,” you choke out, your nerves on fire as your cunt aches for him, for more release. 
Loki flashes you a charming grin and continues to slowly roll his hips and sighing, relishing in your cunt still tightened around him. 
“That’s it, my good girl. Give me one more,” he leans forward and whispers huskily in your ear. Your body heats up as you cry out, shockwaves spreading throughout your body while you come again. 
You choke and gasp for air, every cell of your body on fire for Loki. Your dripping cunt aches from overstimulation, your thighs sore from the tension. Loki removes his cock from you, tucking it back into his silk pajama bottoms. 
Loki caresses your nose with his while you both pant quietly, while he rubs your back gently. It feels amazing, his large hands taking such good care of you as always.  
"I love you Loki," you huff quietly and look into his beautiful eyes, which are softened by angled brows and sparkling with affection in the afterglow. 
"I love you, too," he kisses you sweetly on your cheek. He helps you off of the countertop, and holds onto you as you hobble and stretch your legs. 
"Now, hurry up! I want to try these "bagels" you've been speaking of” he raises his eyebrows and grins at you while he waves his hand, your clothes appearing back on your body. 
“I think I’m ready for a nap,” you tease him back as you glance over your outfit. 
“Oh, but you were a woman on a mission, and now I’m hungry as well. You can’t deny me the pleasure of one of your favorite breakfast delights!,” he shakes his head as he looks over your body, waving his hand again over your clothing. You look down and see that your shirt is now ripped, revealing the red marks and bruises that are blossoming on the top of your skin. 
"Mmmm. That's better,"  Loki smiles proudly to himself as he turns and walks towards his favorite chair by the window, conjuring a book in his hand. 
You roll your eyes and grab your purse, feeling sore but thoroughly sated and loved as you head out the door. 
------
Peachyjinx Masterlist
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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months
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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 6 all chapters
TRIGGER WARNINGS - I'm so bad at these, feels kinda redundant in a yandere fic, BUT this chapter mentions violence against women, NOT between u & john.
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-It's not two days later that a teenage girl goes missing. The town rises up in a tizzy. Everyone volunteers in search parties in the woods. But deep down, you know they should be looking for a beat-up Dodge van. You tell the police, and they take it down, though you doubt they're taking you seriously. The tip lines always go crazy when something like this happens. They’ll have mountains of information to comb through.
The very next day she appears at the police station, bruised, traumatized, but miraculously alive. A burned-out Dodge van is found later in the woods on the other side of town. The girl can't remember much about how she got free, just that someone saved her. She didn't get a good look at him. It all happened so fast.
The next day, Mr. Wick comes into the coffee house with a nasty scrape on his cheek. His eyes have a hard glint to them, sharp as obsidian. 
Somehow, you just know. 
On your break you slowly lower yourself into the seat across from him. 
He doesn't look up at you. 
“What happened to your face?” you ask quietly. 
“Tree branch.”
He's probably telling the truth, but you know there's more to it. You're not sure what you want to ask. You don't want to out him. You wouldn’t have evidence even if you did. You're glad someone was able to find that poor girl, and whatever happened to those men...good riddance.
You realize you are just sitting there staring at him with your lips parted when finally he lifts his eyes to you. 
You feel utterly pinned by his piercing gaze, and your question about the van and what happened to the guys in it dies on your lips. Even you know it would be stupid to mention it, here. Somehow, you’re still brave enough to ask a different question burning in your mind.
“Before you retired... were you a cop?” 
He snorts a little at that. 
“Hardly.” 
You nod, mostly to yourself. With a house like the one he lives in? Of course he wasn’t.
“Ok.”
You realize, you don’t really want to think on it too hard. It doesn’t matter, anyway.
You stand to go, but he touches your hand, ever so lightly. Still, it’s enough to make you freeze in your tracks. If you had any sense, it would be out of fear.
When it comes to Mr. Wick though, you’re afraid you have no sense.
 “Y/n?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we good?”
“Yes.”
You answer emphatically and you mean what you say. You listen to the news and probably to too many true crime podcasts, but it’s still easy to forget sometimes in your little town that the world's a big bad place. You're glad there's someone who can balance it out a little bit in the right direction, even if that someone has to go a little bit outside the law. You squeeze his hand, and it seems like that's enough assurance for him.
He goes back to his book, and you go back to work.
Later, you bring him a pastry, the coffee cake you’ve noticed he likes on occasion.
“What’s this for?”
You don’t know why you find the suspicion in his tone endearing.
“For taking care of us,” you answer. It’s hard not to fancy Clear Forks has gained its very own avenging angel in black. Whether he came from Up Above or Down Below doesn’t matter to that girl, and you find, it doesn’t matter to you.
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angellyslion · 2 days
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Descendante Steve Rogers | Captaine America
Il y a quelques mois j'ai fait un test ADN. J'avais besoin de m'éloigner de Paris et le plus vite possible. Papillon était vaincu et il s'avérait être Gabriel Agreste. J'ai récupéré le miraculous du chat noir et j'étais étonnée d'apprendre que derrière le masque du héro se cachait Adrien Agreste mon ancien béguin.
Pour revenir sur mon test d'ADN j'avais reçu mes résultats par mail et je l'imprime. Je supprime le mail pour effacer toute preuve de ce test dans mes affaires. En les lisant j'étais surprise d'apprendre que mon arrière-grand père du côté paternel est affilié à captaine America. À part Steve Rogers je n'ai pas de parent proche. Les personnes qui m'ont élevé ne sont pas mes parents biologiques. Je n'avais pas envie de les confronter sur cette situation. D'après le papier mes parents sont morts quand j'étais encore qu'un bambin. Les deux étaient des enfants uniques. Mes grands-parents des deux côtés aussi étaient morts. Je n'avais aucun moyen de m'éloigner de la Ville Lumière et de son drame.
Et je me vois mal envoyer un message à Captaine America pour lui annoncer que je suis son arrière petite-fille. Surtout maintenant qu'il est devenu un héros mondialement connu. Je sais que si cette nouvelle s'ébruite j'aurais une cible sur le dos.
Je souffle et enflamme mon résultat au-dessus de ma poubelle à l'aide d'un briquet. Je me prépare pour les cours sans réelle motivation. J'arrive plutôt pour une fois dans ma classe et elle est déserte. Je m'installe au fond comme à mon habitude depuis le retour de Lie-la et sors mon carnet de commission. Je dessine la prochaine tenue de Clara pour son prochain tournage Je dois le finir pour demain au plus tard et terminer de la concevoir d'ici une quinzaine de jours. Heureusement pour moi j'ai déjà les tissus et ses dimensions.
Je vois la Martiniquaise se rapprocher de moi d'un pas énervé. Je peux apercevoir Lie-la avec ses larmes de crocodiles aux coins des yeux. Je me demande quel mensonge elle a bien ou inventer encore. Je le serai bien assez tôt.
« Qu'ai je fais à la pauvre Lie-la cette fois-ci, Alya ?
Ne joue pas l'innocente Dupin-Cheng !
Je ne sais pas! Je souffle. Je suis arrivée la première en classe se matin. Il n'y avait personne, je souligne piur lui faire comprendre que je ne n'ai croisé personne. Et hier je suis partie en dernière. Je ne sais pas à quel moment j'aurai pu m'en prendre à la pauvre Lie-la ? -…
Tu peux me répondre Alya s'il te plaît ? J'ai besoin que tu me rafraichis la mémoire !
Laisse tomber, elle grogne.
Elle repart. J'ai échappé à un drame. Voyant Miss Bustier rentrée en classe, je range mon carnet dans mon sac et sors mes affaires de cours.
Les enfants, j'ai une bonne nouvelle à vous annoncer ! Les Avengers vont venir nous rencontrer. Ils ont décidé de rendre visite à plusieurs écoles du monde. Ils viendront demain. Ils aborderont le sujet du harcèlement et du cyber harcèlement.
C'est moi qui est demandé d'intervenir. Je leur ai parlé du problème de la classe sans citer de nom. Ils ont voulu m'aider.
Tu es géniale Lila, s' extasie Alya. Dis tu penses que tu peux m'accorder une interview sur comment tu les as rencontré.
Bien sûr Alya, tu es ma meilleure amie !
Merci Bestie ! Et je pourrais avoir celle des Avengers ?
Je ne sais pas Alya ! Ils sont très occupés. Et ne penses pas qu'ils puissent se libérer de leur emploi du temps chargés.
Oh ! je comprends, elle répond déçu.
Le reste de la journée se passe tranquillement. Lie-la ment sur les Avengers et m'ignore. Je ne vais pas m'en plaindre. Le soir, je m'occupe rapidement de mes devoirs pour pouvoir achevé le croquis qui est ma principale priorité. Je le termine tard le soir ou tôt le matin, j'en ai aucune idée. Je dors quelques heures. Avant de partir, je bois une grande tasse de café et prépare un thermos avec ma précieuse boisson. J'arrive cinq minutes avant la sonnerie. Je profite de ce laps de temps pour envoyer la tenue dessinée au manager de Clara pour voir si cette dernière convient.
Notre professeur arrive avec le sourire au lèvre.
Bonjour les élèves, comme vous le savez aujourd'hui les Avengers viennent. Je compte sur vous pour être sur votre meilleur comportement !
Bien sûr Miss Bustier ! Répond la classe d'une même voix.
Merci tout le monde ! Ils ne vont plus tarder à arriver.
Quelques minutes plus tard le groupe de héro rentrent dans la classe.
Bonjour classe de Paris, nous sommes les Avengers, vous le savez d'ores et déjà. Votre professeur si elle a fait son travail, a dû évoquer le sujet de notre intervention ! S'il reste du temps vous pourrez essayer de soulever le marteau de Thor. Commence Tony
Avant que nous débutons, vous allez tous vous présenter.
En cinq minutes toute la classe s'est présentée au et c'est à mon tour.  Je me lève.
Bonjour je m'appelle Marinette Dupin-Cheng. J'ai treize ans. J'aime concevoir des vêtements. Je me rassois, rassurée que ce moment gênant se termine.
Pendant les deux heures et demi suivante, ils nous parlent des effets , des conséquences du harcèlement et du cyberharcèlement. Les premiers signes de ce phénomène. Les choses à faire contre ces personnes et comment les dénoncer sans en avoir peur et ainsi éviter de subir les représailles.
Puisqu'il reste du temps avant que votre sonnerie sonne. Comme dit au début, vous pourrez essayer de soulever le marteau. Toute ma classe a échoué surtout leur précieuse Lie-la. C'est mon tour, je m'avance sous le regard noir de la classe. Je saisis le marteau. Je le trouve léger. J'arrive à le soulever. Je regarde rapidement le dieu et il sourit. Et j'observe ma classe folle de rage que je puisse le porter alors que je suis une "tyrante". Je retourne à ma place, l'attention me met mal à l'aise.
Elle est digne ! Je l'emmène avec moi sur Asgarde.
Tu ne peux pas Thor ! Elle a des parents ici sur terre ! Surtout une personne ne te laissera pas faire. Déclare Tony en regardant mon arrière grand père. Ils n peuvent pas être au courant ? Ce n'est pas possible ! Mademoiselle Dupin-Cheng serait-il possible de vous parler en privé à la fin ?
Bien sûr Monsieur Stark.
Elle à dû tricher ! S'énerve Alya. Elle intimide Lila ! C'est même pour cela que vous êtes venue ! C'est pour soutenir Lila !
Désolé mademoiselle Césaire. Nous ne connaissons aucunement Lila Rossi. Elle nous as jamais aidé. Et d'après ce que je l'ai lu sur votre blog, tout n'est que mensonge. C'est pire qu'un tabloïd !
Ce n'est pas vrai. Je roule des yeux. Tout ce qui est écrit est véridique.
As-tu fait des recherches ? Interroge Tony assied sur le bureau du professeur.
Bien sûr que non. Je sais que ce que dit Lila est vrai !
Tu aurait dû ! Jaggen n'a jamais eu de chat, il en ai allergique. Clara invente ces propre pas elle-même. Elle 'e les a volé à personne. Le Prince Ali défend la cause des enfants malades et non de l'environnement. Je continue mademoiselle Césaire ou c'est bon ?
Je pense que ça ira Monsieur Stark. Réponds mon professeur.
Mari pourquoi tu as fait ça ? Les mensonges de Lila ne font de mal à personne. M'agresse Adrien.
Agreste, je n'ai rien dit et rien fait. Je les ai prévenus plusieurs fois. J'ai dit à Alya qu'elle devait faire des recherches, elle même m'accusait de ne pas en faire quand je voulais prouver mon innocence. J'ai souffert de cette situation au moins ça m'a ouvert les yeux. Les personnes que je pensais être mes amis étaient amis avec moi que par intérêt. Merci Lila pour cette révélation. Je n'ai pas besoin de personne toxique dans ma vie. Et venez pas me voir pour vous excuser. Je ne les accepterais pas. La sonnerie clôture la discussion.
J'attends que toute la classe sorte avancer de m'avancer vers le groupe de héros et de m'asseoir sur un banc de devant. Quand la classe était là, je n'étais pas stressé mais maintenant que je suis face à eux c'est une toute autre histoire.
Que voulez-vous savoir ? Je demande pour terminer au plus vite cet entretien et me libérer de cette pression.
Pourquoi avoir fait ce test.  Demande Natasha.
Espérer que j'avais un parent éloigné qui pourrait m'emmener loin de Paris et de Lie-la. C'était stupide de ma part de faire ce test. J'ai eu mes résultats hier et ça ne  m'a rien apporté. Je vois le regard blessé de Steve.
Comment peux-tu dire ça ?
C'est vrai. Même s'il est mon arrière grand-père, il n'aura aucun droit sur moi. La filiation est un peu éloignée pas sûr que les tribunaux acceptent qu'il est ma garde. Vous pouvez toujours essayer. Ça ne me dérangerait pas qu'il est ma garde.
Vraiment, demande le Captaine America avec de l'espoir.
Oui je penses que si vous êtes là c'est dù aux résultats du test. Je ne savais pas comment vous contacter sans me prendre une folle. J'avoue que vivre à New York sera un bon changement de rythme. Je me doute vous avez mon numéro, vous savez comment me contacter. Si cela ne vous dérange pas, je vais rejoindre ma classe pour manger.
Je n'attends aucune réponse de leur part et quitte la pièce. Je me dirige vers le self. Je prends un plateau et juste un des deux plats principaux du jour. Ma faim n'était toujours pas revenue. Je vois que ma classe désire s'approcher de moi. Un simple regard noir les en dissuadent. En moins de quinze minutes je finis mon repas et débarrasse mon plateau.
Je retourne en classe et constate avec satisfaction et grand soulagement que les héros sont partis. Je n'avais aucune envie de leur faire face une nouvelle fois.
Cap, ton arrière petite-fille à dû culot ! Je l'aime déjà. Je t'aiderai à obtenir sa garde. Cela sera simple si elle le veut déjà.
Merci infiniment Tony ! Remercie le héro de guerre.
Je t'en prie Cap ! J'ai jeté un coup d'oeil sur son site. Je l'embaucherai en tant que ma styliste.
Une semaine plus tard, je reçois une lettre du tribunal et le motif de cette convocation est qui obtiendra ma garde. Le procès est dans trois jours. Je sais que mes tuteurs ont reçu cette notification aussi. Pendant une heure les Dupin-Cheng me font une leçon de morale sur tout ce qu'ils ont fait pour moi depuis des années. Je l s coupes.
Ce sont les Avengers qui l'ont découvert. Ils m'o'tben parlé. La seule chose que je veux c'est de m'éloigner d'ici. Les Avengers me donne cette opportunité. Je l'ai juste saisie !
Comment ose-tu ?
Vous avez cru tous les mensonges de Lila. Je vous ai prévenus vous n'avez pas voulu me croire comme le reste de la classe. Vous récolter ce que vous avez semez ! Cela fait longtemps que vous n'avez pas agit comme mes parents Dans tous le es cas j'ai besoin de m'éloigner de Paris et de tout son drame. Et j'ai déjà pris ma décision dans tous les cas suo est de partir avec les Avengers !
Après ces paroles je retourne dans ma chambre. Je ne l'ai pas quitté durant ces trois jours à part pour me nourrir. Je fais tout pour éviter mes parents et me laver. Je n'ai pas pris la peine d'assister à mes cours.
Le jour du procès arrive. J'ai eu un avocat commit d'office payé par l'état.
Le verdict est que Steve Rogers récupére ma garde. J'en ai profité pour changer de nom avec l'accord du juge. Je suis passée de Marinette Dupin-Cheng à Marinette Rogers.
Cela fait un an que j'habite avec les Avengers ma filiation est restée secrète. Je m'entends bien avec tout le monde. Ils ont découvert comme quoi j'étais Ladybug. Même si je n'étais plus une héroïne. Ils m'ont entraîné sur les bases de l'autodéfense. J'ai rencontré Peter Parker alias Spider-Man, le protégé de Tony. Nous nous sommes rapidement rapprochés, cela fait quelques semaines que nous sortons ensemble. J'ai tourné définitivement la page sur Paris.
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xoxoavenger · 3 months
Text
Try Me
pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
summary: Y/N has powers that can heal any illness or wound through her cooking, which comes in handy when Matt gets hurt.
word count: 2279
warnings: small mention of wounds but not graphic
12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist
"Matt, oh my God." Y/N said as she walked into the office to see Matt all bruised, a cut above his eye. "What happened?" She asked, walking closer to see it closer. He looked away, but she was already sitting on his desk, moving his glasses away.
"I, uh, I fell down the stairs." He told her, but she just shook her head and clucked her tongue. She reached into her bag to grab the pastry she packed that day. She always packed one everyday just in case, but she didn't think she would have to use it this early.
"Did you eat breakfast?" She asked, trying to keep herself from running a hand through his hair. Because of course she had to fall for him, her coworker.
"No, but I-"
"Come on, Matt." She smiled as she got off the desk, pulling her skirt down. "I can practically hear your stomach growling from here." With that she walked to her own front desk, Karen's old one. Y/N had taken over the blonde's position of secretary, and she was good at it.
"Good morning you beautiful people!" Foggy practically yelled as he walked through the door. The man had way too much energy for eight thirty in the morning. "Y/N, here's your coffee." He grabbed a cup out of the cup holder and placed it on her desk before winking at her.
"And here's your breakfast." She handed him a pastry, because she always gave one to him even though she knew it wouldn't do anything.
The truth was, Y/N had a power. It wasn't one she flaunted, hell, she hardly ever used it, but she practiced it just incase. She could heal people with her food; how, she wasn't sure, and she had only found it out ten years prior, when she made food for her friend. A couple minutes later, the small cat scratch on her friend's cheek was miraculously gone. After that, she continued to test her theory until there was no doubt in her mind that she had powers.
Just like the Avengers.
But she didn't want fame. She didn't want to be in an elite team of super heroes. She wanted the life she had, working with Foggy and Matt and Karen when she was in the office. It was a fine life.
Plus, she was totally in love with Matt Murdock.
"You're telling me I'm not the only one you make breakfast for?" Matt asked, causing Y/N to smile. She looked over to see Matt eating, which made her happy. She was glad he would be healing, and her heart was hurting slightly at the fact that Matt had to live all alone. Obviously he could take care of himself, but she wanted to be able to take care of him, to heal him when he did things like fall down the stairs.
"Fine, from now on, I'll make breakfast for both of you." She smiled as she looked between the two boys.
"That isn't fair! I bring you coffee, which means Matt has to bring you something too. You cannot just give your baking talents out like that!" Foggy complained, making Y/N roll her eyes.
"I'm sure I'll think of something. Until I do, just keep track." Matt smiled at her before going to his work, grabbing his glasses and putting them back on. Y/N stared for a few seconds before going to work filing and sorting.
~
"Matt," Y/N said in surprise when she walked in the next day. It wasn't surprise of his presence, he had often been in the office first now. Foggy told Y/N that he used to never come in, that Nelson and Murdock had once been done for because Matt never showed up, but he was obviously over it now. No, she was gasping because she was so in shock at his state. He didn't look any better from her pastry - in fact, he almost looked like he'd fallen again.
"Y/N," Matt smiled, but she could tell it was strained.
"Matthew, what did you do this time?" She sat on his desk once more, giving him the pastry. She took his glasses off before he could protest, and looked at his wounds.
"What do you mean?" He chuckled, shying slightly away from her. "I fell down the stairs."
"Twice?" She wiped her finger over some of the dried blood off his face.
"No, I fell the night before yesterday." He told her, wincing as she touched a fresh cut.
"No," She fought back, frowning. "That's fresh blood." She wanted to say that she knew it was new because the pastry should have accelerated his healing enough that he shouldn't be bruising this bad.
"Must've reopened a cut." Matt shrugged, but he made no move to move her hand. She rubbed her fingers over his bruises, hoping the pastry she brought today was enough to help him.
"I'm fine, Y/N. Don't worry about me." He waved her off and she stood, not wanting to annoy him.
"Have you figured out a way to repay me for the pastries every morning?" She asked, trying to find a topic he'd be comfortable talking about.
"Not yet. But, I promise I will." He looked in her general direction, eyes unfocused. She stared, not out of confusion or disgust, but out of wonder. Why would he hide his eyes? They expressed so much emotion, and they were beautiful. He must have sensed her staring, because he quickly felt around for glasses before putting them back on.
"Well, keep me updated." She said as she went to her desk.
"Morning!" Foggy was opening the door a couple seconds later, which put Y/N back in a good mood.
"Good morning, you beautiful person!" She said, referring to his greeting the day before.
"The usual, my fair lady." He said in a strange accent, and she tipped her imaginary hat to him.
"Thank you, kind sir. Whatever would I do without you?" She smiled as he went to his own desk.
"So, Matt figure out what to pay you with?" Foggy asked, bringing out his computer out of his bag.
"Not yet." Y/N shook her head, looking through the company emails.
"I know what he could pay you with." Foggy looked up and smirked at Matt, who began to talk at the same time of Y/N.
"What?"
"Shut it, Fog." Matt had temporarily paused his work, but he got back to it when the conversation dropped. Y/N looked between the two, but Foggy only smirked at her before going to do his own thing.
"Did you forget my pastry?" He asked, making her eyes widen. She had forgotten, and she felt slightly guilty. She reached into her bag to get Foggy's pastry, standing and bringing it to his desk.
"So sorry, sir." She joked, bowing and going back to her work. She couldn't help but sneak glances at Matt all day however, watching his bruise start to fade.
She smiled to herself when she left and his cut was almost fully healed.
~
She still made Matt pastries every morning, however he hadn't come in with any injuries that she could see.
Until he didn't come in a week later.
The door wasn't open, and even after she tried knocking she didn't hear any movement. So she tried calling him.
No answer.
"Hey Matt, I'm at the office and apparently you're not here, because you didn't answer the door, so if you could just let me know if this is a holiday or something?" She chuckled at the end, but her heart was beginning to pound. She called Foggy next.
"The time hasn't magically warped forward, has it?" He joked as he answered the phone.
"Where's Matt?" She felt bad but she needed to get down to business.
"He's not there?" Foggy began to get worried now as well.
"No, and he's not answering his phone." She told Foggy quickly. "Ya know what, I'm just going to check on him." She said, walking back out of the hallway and going down the stairs.
"Don't worry about it! I'm almost there anyway." He rushed out, but Y/N shook her head.
"I'm coming too." She wanted to help if she could, wanted to be there incase he happened to be injured. Foggy was quiet for a moment.
"Fine. I'll meet you there. He may be sick."
"He's not sick." She said. He had been eating her pastries every day, and she knew that was all someone needed of her cooking and baking to keep away from the common cold or viruses.
"He could be." Foggy pointed out, but Y/N shook her head as she walked down the street. Matt didn't live super far away, so it didn't take long for her to make it. Luckily, Foggy was also pretty close.
"I'll be there soon. Wait outside - the doorman is a stickler. He won't let you in alone." He told her, so Y/N confirmed and hung up. Foggy was there a minute later, and the two walked into the building together, hearts racing.
"He does this all the time." Foggy assured her, but she could tell he was freaking out, even if it was slightly less than her. "He probably just overslept." His voice seemed to give away more than his actual words.
"Right." She nodded as they began to climb the stairs. They got to Matt's floor and walked quickly to his apartment, Y/N banging on the door as soon as she could.
"Matt?" Foggy called out from her side, both of them going quiet to try and listen to what was going on.
"Matt, are you okay?" Y/N yelled, heart getting lodged in her throat as she couldn't hear anything.
"That's it," Foggy reached into his pocket to grab his keys, picking through them to find a key that Y/N assumed was Matt's. She stood back to let him open the door, and the two walked in, their worries for their friend outweighing the fact that they had just actually broken into Matt's apartment.
"Matt? Matt are you alright?" Y/N yelled, following Foggy in. She heard a groan from the living room and rushed with Foggy through the small hallway to see Matt on the couch, only in his underwear. She was about to look away when she noticed that he was covered in cuts and bruises, the blood wet around the cuts but drying down his body. There were at least four thick, deep cuts and dark, almost black bruises.
"Shit," Foggy muttered. He thought that Matt would be bruised from his after work activities, but he was hoping it wasn't this bad. He didn't want Y/N to come with him, but he couldn't exactly tell her no.
"Oh my God," Y/N made her way to his side, assessing the damage.
"I was hoping you'd find me." He muttered as he opened his eyes slightly. "I need your help." He grabbed her hand, shifting with a groan.
"With what? I can't stitch you up! I don't know the first thing about medical aid." She muttered, instinctively reaching up to push his hair out of his face.
"Maybe not," Matt chuckled but then ended up coughing, causing Y/N and Foggy to wince. "But you do know a thing or two about healing." Y/N froze, her heart stuttering. How did he know?
"What?" She whispered, but Matt squeezed her hand. "How did this happen? This is worse than falling down the stairs." She tried to change the subject, but Matt moved in pain again.
"I notice things." He said, as if that would explain everything. Before Y/N could answer, he was speaking again. "Could you make something while Foggy helps me clean up?" All she could do was nod and look in her bag, taking the two pastries she always brought for the boys out.
"If you can get these down, it'll help, but I'll make some soup." She smiled at him and got up, squeezing his hand before letting it go.
"What is going on?" Foggy whispered to Matt, making him chuckle slightly.
"Let's just say Y/N's soup is special." Matt closes his eyes and tries to ignore the pain while Y/N works. Foggy looks between them quickly.
"What the fuck does that mean?" He cries, making Y/N chuckle.
"It's alright, Foggy." Matt has a tired smile, one that worries his friend.
"You need medical attention." Foggy tries to convince Matt, who just shakes his head.
"Try to eat the pastries!" Y/N calls from the kitchen.
"What the fuck are pastries gonna do?" Foggy screams, wanting to rip out his own hair.
"Foggy, how many times have you gotten sick in the past six months?" Matt asks softly.
"That has absolutely nothing to do with you dying on the couch." Foggy gets up to grab a cloth to wipe at the blood on his face.
"I am not dying." Matt mutters with the roll of his eyes. Foggy returns and gets him to shut up by wiping at his mouth.
"The soup just has to heat up." Y/N comes out of the kitchen and kneels next to Matt. "Foggy, can you run to the store to grab some bandages?" She asks, taking the cloth.
"When I get back, you guys are telling me what I'm missing." He says very seriously before he walks out the door.
"How did you figure it out?" Y/N whispers, wiping his blood away with one hand and his hair out of his face with the other. "How did this happen?" She changes her question while shaking her head.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He muttered, causing Y/N to scoff.
"The food I make can heal people. Try me." She smiles.
"Well, you know Daredevil?" 
//
tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace @punzoquack @mcueveryday @icequeen1371
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talesofadragon · 5 months
Text
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐞
Synopsis: Steve Rogers was looking forward to Halloween. Not because of the costumes, the tricking and the treating, or Tony’s meticulous party planning—he was looking forward to spending some quality time with his Y/N. But a cozy night in with pumpkin spice lattes and that Halloween Town movie he needed to catch up on was soon abandoned when the mysterious house on Easton Avenue called for his attention.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Civilian!Reader
Genre: SMUT | Fluff | Some scary stuff
Warnings: Unprotected sex, P in the V, oral sex, temperature play, sex toys, kegel balls, blindfolds, bondage, pussy slapping, object insertion, deepthroating, shoe humping, degradation, dacryphilia, sex tapes, mirror sex, breast fucking, orgasm denial, edging, squirting, overstimulation, should I go on? It’s shameful sex, basically.
Word Count: 12K
A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN, FOLKS! This is my very first time doing a kinktober special, but I really wanted to submit an entry to @jtargaryen18's Halloween Special! So, I hope you all like this. And forgive me, because I just finished it, and didn't triple-check for typos. Enjoy 🧡🎃
All Masterlists | Steve Rogers Masterlist
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𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘 𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 of red surged from within the fifth house on Easton Avenue, sending a chaotic ripple across the entire neighborhood. At least, that’s how you pictured it in your head. That house had a vicious and ominous aura, topped with a polarizing effect that both dared you to come closer and urged you to stay away. 
Something about that house wasn’t right ever since its residents claimed it a week ago. It had been a solid year since you moved to Brooklyn to live with Steve, and as far as you knew, that old and frail house had been vacant for the better half of seven years. Yet now, all so suddenly, someone decided it was the most miraculous idea in the world to step through the broken fence and make do with whatever crumbs the beaten structure had to offer—with little regard or effort at fixing it. 
“What in the name of God are you doing?” 
Lost in the abstract aura of your neighbor’s house, Steve had crept up on you, and you were none the wiser. You whipped your head to the back, hands firmly clutching the binoculars. It was not a sound decision on your behalf because Steve’s majestic blue-green eyes were now tenfold bigger, almost as if they were about to devour you whole.
You shrieked, fingers still gripping the binoculars for reasons unknown. Your startled expression made Steve stiffen and look around.
“Why are you screaming?” he asked, taking the binoculars away from your face. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when he caught the letter “A” engraved on the side. “Did you take these from my mission bag, Y/N?” 
You sheepishly gazed up at him, giving him your best pout. Steve didn’t particularly mind if you rummaged through his things, but the reason you lived on Easton Avenue and not at the Avengers Compound was that he tried to keep you away from his “alter ego,” as you liked to call it. So, snooping through his mission bag might have contradicted the boundaries you had previously set.
“I was birdwatching,” you blurted out without a second thought. 
Steve regarded you skeptically. “Birdwatching,” he repeated, his tone heavy with doubt. 
“Yes. This time of the year brings very colorful birds.” 
He didn’t respond, only subtly arching an eyebrow. Placing the binoculars on the nearby couch, his slender and long fingers pushed the curtain aside—enough for him to peek out the window. And because Steven Grant Rogers was God’s perfect human creation, he didn’t need even a monocle to catch sight of the fifth townhouse down your street. 
“Yeah, you’re right. That ashen plumage does splendidly reflect the beauty of this season.” 
“At least you are a gentleman enough to feign belief,” you remarked, indignantly rolling your eyes. 
Knowing what was going to follow, you picked up the binoculars and headed to your shared bedroom. But Steve was right behind you with the same retort he used when he caught you so much as thinking about that house. “Dove, you need to stop investing so much energy into that house. There’s nothing wrong about it.”
“Everything is wrong about it, Steve!” you defended, picking up his bag from the closet and putting the binoculars back. “It’s creepy and morbid, and I can’t believe anyone would willingly choose to settle in it.” 
“It’s a nice house. I’m sure, with some attention, anyone would want to settle in it.” 
“Well, that’s the thing! Why aren’t the new owners doing anything about it? It’s sitting there like the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. The only missing part is the werewolf.” 
Steve looked somewhat perplexed and unconvinced. His lips parted then closed until he was ready to speak again. “Werewolves don’t exist.” Of course, he’d focus on that part. “And, maybe the owners haven’t had the chance to refurbish the house yet.” 
“That’s a great suggestion, Stevie! Why don’t we go and lend a hand.” 
It was not, in fact, a great suggestion at all. What it was though is a ruse.
You didn’t give him the time to answer, immediately bolting outside the room. You knew you had him in a corner because Steve Rogers might’ve been a master strategist, a renowned captain, and a fearless leader, but you could always uncover the cracks in his façade, and you were certain something about this house didn’t sit right with him either. He just didn’t want to admit it out loud.
“Uhm, maybe you should sit this one out, dove. You’ve never been good with a paintbrush.” 
“Maybe so,” you replied with your back still to him. You didn’t need heightened senses to catch the shy curse that left his mouth. “But I’m good at baking. I can offer the new neighbors some pumpkin pie while you help them with the paint. You’re the artist, after all, baby.” 
Steve caught your wrist before you could open the fridge to “search” for the ingredients for your pie. 
“You mean like right now?” 
“Yes! We may not be able to do much, but maybe enough to not have the trick-and-treaters scurry away at the sight of that house.” 
Releasing your wrist from his grasp, you reached for the fridge. Steve’s veiny hand collided with the metal door, forcing it to close. With his hands on your hips, he spun you around and placed your body against the fridge. 
“Y/N.” The coldness of the fridge’s metal door against your fingertips did little to appease the flames burning in your soul. God damn Steve Rogers and the effect he had on you. “Don’t make me say it.” 
“Say what?” 
“…I hate that house.” 
“The nice house down our street?” 
“The morbid one that looks like Azkaban.” 
“Aha!” You joiced, finger digging into Steve’s chest. “I knew I wasn’t the only one who found that creepy old building ominous.” 
“Of course not. I’ve been pestering Tony for over a week, trying to find out who bought that place and see if they’re a security threat,” Steve admitted. 
You tilted your head to the side, lips pursing in thought. “I mean, I don’t like the house. But is it a security threat?”
Sensing the shift in your voice, Steve’s hand found purchase in your hair, twirling a strand in his index finger. It was a familiar habit he had developed since you’d gotten together. Partly comforting and partly grounding—for both of you. 
“According to Tony, it isn’t. But, you know me. Your safety is always at the forefront of my mind. And I don’t like how that house is so close to us.” 
“Me neither,” you replied, now playing with Steve’s hands. You traced the veins protruding from his skin, marveling at the difference between his large hands and your petite ones. “But with you here, I don’t care about a silly old house.” 
“So, can we forget about your little stakeout missions and go back to planning our private party this evening?” Steve smirked, tugging you closer by your waist. 
“It was one time!” 
“For five days.” 
“Shut up,” you said with feigned indignation. “Or else no private party. I’ll force you to attend Tony’s.” 
Steve’s eyes widened at the mention of Tony’s infamous party. This year, the theme was something along the lines of "Halloween of Doom." And since Steve wasn't a fan of the usual wild parties Tony would throw every chance he got,  he wasn't looking forward to the Halloween shenanigans.
Just as you took his hand in yours and pulled him toward the hall, a sharp tap against your window sounded across the room. Bemused, you turned to Steve. He immediately stepped in front of you, keeping an ear out to identify the source of the sound.
Incessant in its pursuit of attention, the sound boomed louder. Steve motioned for you to stay where you were while he investigated. Five seconds later, he called your name, albeit hesitantly. 
“Y/N,” he said, gaze unwavering ahead. “I think all that birdwatching you did called the attention of an angry bird.”
“Is that an owl?” You hadn’t realized how loud your voice was until the owl in question shrieked behind the glass window. What the hell was an owl doing at your house?
“It looks like it,” Steve answered. 
Neither of you tried to open the window, which agitated the owl. It ruffled its feathers and tapped the glass, clearly demanding entry. You studied the nocturnal creature, which obviously lacked a sense of orientation since you were nowhere near the evening. Something on its leg caught your eye. You gasped, pointing at it. “There’s a rolled-up letter attached to its leg!”
The moment Steve noticed the letter, he rushed to open the window. The owl flew in, forcing you to step a couple of feet back—you were a sane person who didn’t go out of their way to look for owls, let alone ones that appeared in broad daylight.
Steve plucked the letter from its leg and opened it. “It’s an invitation.”
“For what?”
“A Halloween feast,” he said, eyeing the letter suspiciously. “At House 5 on Easton Avenue.” It was the same morbid house you two had been discussing. 
You carefully approached Steve, mindful of the owl on your coffee table. You took the letter in your hands, reading it aloud. 
We’ve Caught Your Unblinking Eye Through the Ashen Veil We Know You Are Curious. We Feel It in Our Veins.
To Uncover the Macabre Truths Shrouded by Our Shadows  Join the Halloween Feast Tonight 
And Embrace a Chilling Night at Doom’s Manor House 5 - Easton Avenue - 9:00 PM
“This is worse than our phones when they display targeted ads because of whatever they heard us talking about,” you exclaimed, hands tightly clutching the piece of paper.
Steve’s eyes widened significantly, pure horror crossing his features. “Our phones do that?” 
"Yeah," you replied with a matter-of-fact tone. You've most likely added one more item to Steve Rogers' “X Things I Hate About the Twenty-First Century” list. "They pick up on our search history too. So, maybe they'll know why that owl still hasn't left yet because it's starting to give me the creeps."
The owl with brown feathers and round yellow eyes hooted, hopping on the table and looking between you and Steve. It definitely did not like you.
“Maybe it wants something?” Steve guessed.
“Like what? Dollar bills or a treat in exchange for its postal services?” you scoffed. The owl wasn’t privy to your cynicism, but you still crept closer to Steve in fear of it deciding to attack you or something. 
“A confirmation, maybe?” The owl hooted, seemingly agreeing with Steve. You quickly grabbed his arm, giving it a tight squeeze. “Dove, I don’t think it’s taking ‘no’ for an answer.”
As if on the same page, the owl moved away from you both and flew to the outside of the house. You and Steve just stared at the open window, House 5 right there, teasingly close.
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Steve was on high alert. His fingers dug into the edges of the wooden window as he fixed his eyes on the mysterious house down Easton Avenue. You’d think that there would be bustling activity considering the owners had only recently moved in, but he never saw anyone walk in or out of that house. He didn’t even recall catching sight of anyone by the window. 
And although the Halloween feast was barely ten minutes away from starting, no one had approached the house yet. 
“Dove,” Steve called, pushing away from the window and adjusting his suit. “I’m gonna head out now. I know that Tony and the others overlooked the invite and didn’t want to interfere, but to be on the safe side—”
He was about to tell you to activate your security system and connect to the emergency line of the Avengers Initiative if he didn’t update you within twenty minutes of entering that house. But his words were stuck on the tip of his tongue when you walked into view.
“Why are you wearing your stealth suit?” you asked, almost glumly. Steve just blinked, looking completely flabbergasted, like a deer caught in headlights.
“I can ask you the same thing.” He pointed at your outfit, his tongue poking out and wetting his lips. “Why do you have a stealth suit on? Where did you even get one?” 
The saccharine surprise in Steve’s tone fueled your heart with desire. You chewed on your lower lip, twirling a strand of your hair to draw Steve’s attention to your ponytail. His breath hitched, his eyes running a marathon across the expanse of your neck. You relished the lust that crossed over his features when you swayed your hips and sauntered to his side. 
“Do you like it?” came your ardent whisper. Steve’s hands circled your hips, fingers burying in the leather of your suit, squeezing your side in affirmation.
You loved Halloween, making it your October resolution to find the best costume. But it was always hard to find one, considering there were so many options to choose from, and you were as decisive as a Gemini. After some time, an Avengers stealth suit popped up during your search, one which sinfully complimented your ass and curves. So you knew, right away, that getting your hands on it was a must if it would drive Steve crazy. 
“Why are you wearing it, dove?” Steve asked once more.
Innocently batting your eyelashes at him, you answered, “Because we’re going to the Halloween feast.” 
“Absolutely not.” And there it was. “I told you, I’m going in to check it. Alone. It’s a mission, Y/N. And you stray away from those.” 
“It’s not an official mission if Tony didn’t approve it.” 
“I’m the Head of the Avengers.” 
“You’re Head Strategist, yes. But we both know that if Tony and Fury don’t give the green light, you can’t treat whatever this is as a mission.” 
You had him there, and you knew it. While Steve Rogers had a knack for defending any argument and finding a way to assert his stance, this time he faltered for an answer, and only managed to say, “You’re still not going.” 
“Don’t you think it’s going to look a tad bit suspicious if you walk into that house alone? And with your suit on?” 
“No,” Steve shrugged. “Besides, that’s why I’m leaving my shield here.” 
“And your common sense.” If his glare was any indication, he didn’t appreciate your commentary. “If I go with you, it would look like we’re genuinely interested in their stupid feast. You can snoop around while I stick to the activities.” 
“That’s too dangerous.” 
“So, why do you assume I’d let you go there on your own?” 
“Because I’m enhanced, Y/N.” 
“And I’m a SHIELD agent for the night, Steve.” 
“And you judge me about my common sense?” 
“Steve,” you stressed, catching his attention. “If that house is not as safe as the Avengers claim, I am not letting you go there by yourself. You can either go against me and leave me here, alone, well aware that our loony neighbors are watching. Or, you take me with you. It’s your call.”
It’s been yours since the beginning, and you’re not the least bit surprised when Steve mumbled something incoherent before he ushered you out of the house. 
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The neighboring houses, much like your own, were modestly decorated for the occasion. The Barbers, your neighbors from across the street, had a couple of skeleton bodies strewn across the yard and fake bats hanging from the large tree in their backyard. The Adlers went with carved pumpkins and flickering lanterns, which created a warm, inviting ambiance. Meanwhile, the Hansens had embraced the theme with scattered tombstones and heinous, life-sized witches tending to their boiling cauldrons.
Although the fifth house on Easton Avenue was barren and devoid of even a string light, it stood as the most intimidating and menacing of them all. The sinister atmosphere grew more palpable when you and Steve approached. The wind carried an unsettling chill, and the ancient trees lining the path creaked like ghostly sentinels. It was as if the house was an isle of malevolence adrift in a sea of darkness.
“Why is it the only house with fog surrounding it?” Steve noted. You both stood by a withered fence, the imposing structure casting long, foreboding shadows.
“I don’t know,” you replied, glancing around nervously. “Maybe it’s just a fog machine, but this place is terrifying enough as it is. It doesn’t need any more decorations.”
With a heavy breath, Steve stepped forward, the fog swirling around his boots. You watched in apprehension as the entrance loomed ahead. Steve paused for a moment, turning back to you. His eyes, usually full of determination, now held a flicker of doubt. “I have a bad feeling about this, Y/N.”
The atmosphere turned even more chilling when, suddenly, a low, dissonant hum echoed from the depths of the house, making your hair stand on end. It was as if the very walls themselves held their breath in anticipation.
Without breaking his gaze from the looming house, Steve extended his hand toward you. You clasped onto it, anchoring yourself to this distorted reality. He spared a glance your way, one that was brief in time yet abundant in intensity, and you responded with a nod, your nerves on edge. With a deep breath, Steve raised his clenched fist to knock on the door, but before he could make contact, it swung open on its own.
You both cautiously crossed the threshold, never releasing each other's hands. You were met with a dimly lit room, paintings strewn across its walls, each with a calculating pair of eyes narrowing on you.
"Welcome, Steve Rogers and Y/N Y/L/N," a commanding voice boomed, rattling the portraits on the wall. You jumped in your shoes, trying to catch a glimpse of the source. You were left bewildered, staring at the void that surrounded you. "Welcome to a chilling night at Doom's Manor!"
You didn’t have time to ask questions—you barely had a chance to think before the front door swung shut and the blinds closed, engulfing the sinister house in even more darkness. 
“What the hell?” you cried as an oppressive silence descended. It was like you were sucked into a black hole with only Steve’s touch tethering you to earth. “Steve! Turn on your flashlight.” 
“I don’t have a flashlight, Y/N,” Steve tersely replied. 
“You have a phone, which has a built-in flashlight. Turn it on,” you urged, your voice tinged with desperation. “Then we can discuss why you brought a gun and no flashlight to this place!”
You heard him groan in frustration, palms smacking against the leather of his suit as he fished out his phone. He pressed it, fingers less than graceful when it came to touchscreens. For a moment, you thought he had forgotten how to unlock the device. Until he said, “My battery’s dead.” 
“Our brilliant Head Strategist venturing on a mission without the means to communicate! What kind of expert overlooks that?” you chastised, fishing out your own phone. You tapped it repeatedly, but the screen remained blank. A sinking feeling washed over you as you pressed the side button, yet it refused to light up. “I swear it was charged,” you whispered in disbelief.
“I’m afraid that your phones won’t work here,” the same disorienting voice said. 
Unexpectedly, a blinding white radiance cut through the darkness, forcing both you and Steve to shield your eyes. As the light faded, it started to flicker intermittently, weaving through the walls and mingling with the torchlights.
Despite all the courage you tried to manifest, your voice brokenly whispered, “Steve, is this a bad time to tell you that I was never fond of haunted houses as a kid?” 
The lights were still flickering when Steve ripped his hand from your firm grasp. Your breath hitched, thinking the worst. But he was still there next to you, eyeing the door. “No one is, dove. And I’m not forcing you to like ‘em now.” 
With all the super soldier strength coursing through his veins, Steve lunged at the door, attempting to force it open. It broke your heart to see it stubbornly clenching its hinges no matter how many times Steve flung himself against it.
The mysterious voice tutted, inundating your being with fear. You held your breath, praying that Steve would get you both out of here fast.
“You should learn to treat even inanimate objects kindly, Captain Rogers. Or does all that strength chip away at your humanity?” 
Ignoring the voice, Steve continued his assault on the door. What he didn’t expect was an incorporeal force that lunged at him without warning. The unadulterated strength in its grip sent him hurling through the air until he crashed to the ground with a loud groan. 
“Steve!” you called apprehensively. 
“Should I have warned you not to do that? Thought it was self-explanatory?” the same voice commented. 
You heard your heels clicking against the tiles before you could even think about moving. Steve was rubbing at his temple, eyes forcibly closed after the fall. You were almost by his side when you felt a hand grab your hair and fling you into the air. 
You shrieked, the quiver in your voice igniting Steve’s anger. He raced forward, arms stretched out. But unlike the pale, ghastly form that manhandled you, tangible vines stemmed from the recesses of the house’s tiles and walls, aiming at Steve. 
“Get off him!” you commanded as you kicked your feet and threw a punch. Your forceful gestures vaporized into the thin air, torpid against the vice grip of the spirit before you. You gasped hard when the misty form wrapped itself around your neck—constricting the air around and molding you and the wall as one. 
“Y/N!” Steve grunted, desperately trying to pry himself out of the vines’ steel grip. “Hold on. I-I’ll get it o-off.” 
The morbid atmosphere was getting worse as dark spots clung to your vision’s periphery. The incorporeal assault remained relentless, slamming you once more against the wall. As you forced your eyes to meander, searching for a solution, you focused on antique torches, each with a blue flame in its grasp. 
The same torch hung from the wall you were trapped against. With a growl and a hell lot of hope that Ghostbusters had taught you something useful, you snatched the torch and incinerated the elusive monster. 
One less than graceful descent later, you braced yourself against the floor with a thud. Steve was still struggling against Mother Nature’s prodigal offspring. He’d gotten a dagger out, but the more he cut through the vines, the more they multiplied. 
You staggered your way to him just as the plant lunged at his face. “Don’t even think about it!” you warned, attacking the plant with the iridescent flames. Steve inhaled sharply as the vines, which were wrapped around him, turned into ash. 
“Dove, I don’t know if I should be in awe or fear of what just happened,” Steve admitted as you helped him up. You were too busy inspecting his body for injuries to answer. 
“We need to get out of here,” you said in one breath. “This place isn’t safe.” 
Steve was about to answer when the eerie voice interjected, “Safe is boring.” 
You sneered, wanting so badly to punch whoever was callously commenting. Steve grabbed you tightly and maneuvered his way through the house. Luckily, nothing else attacked you two as you navigated the narrow corridors except for the thick dust and the cobwebs. 
Steve had found a door, which he immediately opened. As he stepped into the room, large and foreboding, a sense of apprehension gripped him. Shadows danced along the walls, playing tricks on his vision, while a musty scent of decay lingered in the air.
You both tried to find a way out, but to your utter horror, the same door you had opened to run into this room disappeared. 
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Steve asked, bewildered. He ran his hands over the wall, fingers tracing the edges of the now-invisible door. “How is that even possible?” 
You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t know. But the werewolf would have been better.” 
“Well, that could be arranged,” the mysterious voice announced. 
In hindsight, you should’ve thought twice before giving your two cents. But how were you supposed to know that the sentient house didn’t only manipulate nightmares but could also manifest them?
Steve turned toward you, distress visibly carved across his forehead. He reached out for his gun just as a violent wind attacked the isolated room. Your hair flailed, falling victim to the assault. 
You tightened your hold on the torch despite the wind’s ministrations. It was thrashing within the borders of the room, incessantly clawing at you and Steve. The bright azure flames wavered from where they were perched on your torch, despite all your attempts at keeping them tamed. They tumbled down and crashed into the ground. 
The moment the flames met the tiles, they burst into a fit of undiluted anger. The blue orbs separated, each tracing its brittle path and leaving destruction in its wake. The flames circled you and Steve in a dance of tantalizing grace—rising beyond the surface and falling back into the ground’s arms. 
You and Steve were each pushed to one side. You stood there, him with a fully loaded gun and you with an empty torch, silently watching as the translucent flames birthed a werewolf. 
“I don’t think the situation can get any worse,” you pointed out, taking care to not step into the line of fire. Literally. “So, is it too late to ask for a vampire instead? At least we have a stake.” 
Steve looked appalled by the suggestion. “This isn’t the Edmond-Jason debate, Y/N! Both options are worse for wear!” 
The werewolf wasn’t fond of Steve’s vernacular; at least, that’s why you assumed since it decided to lunge at him first. You slumped back just as Steve ducked his head and rolled to the side. The beast was relentless in its movement, clawing and growling at your soldier—canines salivating with excitement, eager to dip into flesh. 
“I know it’s not the time, but it’s Edward and Jacob! And what I meant is that we at least have a stake! A viable weapon against a vampire. What means of defense do we have against a translucent werewolf?!”
“The same thing we have against a translucent vampire,” Steve grunted, firing three consecutive shots at the luminous creature. All three of them pierced his hollow frame, leaving him unscathed. “Nothing!”  
Despite the fear that inundated your body, you still looked for a weapon to fight the beast with. Unfortunately for you, the room was desolate with nothing but mold and fractured walls holding it on their shoulders. Steve was actively trying to retain its attention, steering it clear from your path, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to last any longer. 
“Well, maybe the house can conjure a non-translucent vampire,” you thought aloud. Truthfully, you weren’t really thinking straight, but what other choices did you have at the moment?
Needless to say, Steve disagreed. “Vampires aren’t real!” 
“Well, what do you know?” you shrieked, all modicum of common sense out of the non-existent window. “There is a Spider-Man and an Ant-Man. Who's to say there is not a.. a Bat-Man that’s willing to make this situation a little less complicated!” The wolf finally caught your voice. It growled as if to show its dissatisfaction at having to hear you speak, craning its head and baring its teeth when its silver eyes landed on you. “Mysterious house, please!”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” 
If you could take a wild guess, you’d say the werewolf wasn’t particularly fond of the creepy voice. That, or it was crestfallen at the idea of losing its chew toys. 
Its blue glow intensified, switching from deceitful calm to voracious hunger. Your heart hammered in your chest, assaulting your ribcage as it sensed the looming danger. You tried to step away, but the wolf spied on your meek attempt. It prowled, ferocious and murderous in its pursuit. 
Just as you raised your arms to shield yourself from him, Steve’s body collided with yours. “Y/N!” his scream ricocheted across the walls. 
Was it so vehemently loud? You wondered. Or were your ears easily susceptible to noise? 
As soon as Steve’s arms wrapped around you, you fell gracelessly into the void. The blue of the wolf fused with the paleness of the room, making a torpedo of vivid, interloping colors swirl before your eyes. The fall was like a dwindling spiral—long, endless, and tiring. And then you landed somewhere more stale; much more dark.
“Y/N!” Your name was the first thing you heard and the light that pulled you from darkness’ heavy lull. Hands roamed your body, gentle yet firm, unrelenting despite the groan that escaped your throat. “Y/N, please. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me that you weren’t hurt.” 
You lifted your head, now aware that you were lying on Steve’s chest. The perilous haze only barely dissipated once you opened your eyes. “I’m okay. Are you?” you asked, eyes raking over Steve’s figure to see if he had been hurt in that fight. Besides his frightened and concerned eyes, he looked alright. 
A long breath escaped his pink lips. His large hand cradled your face, magically bringing your pulse back to a languid pace. “As long as you’re alright, I’m fine. But I’ll be better once we get out of here.”
You stood up, holding your hand out to Steve, which he gratefully took. Lacing your fingers together, you carefully examined your surroundings, noting the hollow room you were in. Once again devoid of light, air, and a way out.
“How are we gonna get out?”
“Through that door.” By now, your senses had been attuned to the house’s tricks, so you weren’t jostled by the resounding echoes of the mysterious voice. True to its words, a large blue door materialized at the far end of the hallway. It rattled against its hinges, almost as if something was trying to break free on the other side. “Better hurry up, angel wings. Or else you’ll miss it.”
The voice dissolved softly like snowflakes giving away to the sun. And yet, its resolve bellowed across the room, the walls and ground shattering against its whispers. 
“Maybe the vampires weren’t such a bad idea after all,” Steve remarked. You knew his Captain's brain was on overdrive, actively searching for the best escape route. But you knew it was there, right in front of you. So, mustering up all the courage you had in you, you tugged Steve’s hand and bolted toward the blue door. 
The walls wailed, angered at your choice. They began to move, closing in on you at a menacing speed. Steve pulled you closer, almost molding both your bodies into one. He gained momentum, and your feet were about to give up from the unbridled force of his movements. 
The walls were at a measurable distance, and you couldn’t believe you’d made it unharmed this far. Steve reached out, trying to push the silver loop that would open the door. But you should’ve known better than to trust the mysterious house. Of course, it wasn’t going to make it easy. 
“Of course, I wasn’t going to make it easy,” the voice parrotted the words inside your head. 
“What do you want?” Steve seethed, looking over his shoulders as the walls picked up their pace. 
“O Captain! My Captain! To enter Doom’s lair, you must first answer my question.”
“What question?”
You heard someone clear their throat, and you could’ve sworn the bastard was smirking before it answered,
“Forged by fears and entangled in thoughts, 
Within the breadth of darkness, I reside. 
Devoid of soul, I grasp control,
In my distorted mist, your will subsides.
I am concealed within deceit and unseen with eyes, 
Tell me, soldier, who am I?"
“Son of a bitch!”
“Language, Captain. And that’s not the answer.”
Your feet quivered, bouncing in place. Steve had lost his patience, now alternating between throwing answers and attempting to knock the door down. He was spewing some more worthless answers while you stared at the walls. Barely 10 inches separated you from your ultimate demise, and nothing but a correct answer would save you from this situation. Despite your fears, you took a deep breath, knowing you needed to answer that question. Now.
“Nightmare!” you yelled. Steve had stopped the assault on the door, looking at you with a perplexed gaze. “The answer to the riddle is  a nightmare.”
A weighty silence gripped the helm of the foreboding atmosphere, lingering until the awaited response finally emerged. “That is correct.” 
The locks turned, the door creaking as it offered you the solace you’ve been so desperately seeking. Steve practically pushed you inside, following you soon after. The door closed shut behind you, ushering you into a misty room. The wind picked up once again, and before you, a cloaked figure emerged. Its head was down, edges of the onyx fabric it wore blowing with every single caress of the wind. 
“Welcome,” the figure said in the same gruff and deep voice that you’ve been hearing since you entered the house. “Welcome to a chilling night at Doom’s Manor!”
“Who the hell are you?” you inquired agitatedly just as Steve ordered the figure to lift its cloak. 
The cloaked figure revealed its pallid hands, previously concealed. With a tantalizing motion, the fingers encircled the edge of the hood, slowly lifting it. Your eyes widened, mind barely comprehending what you saw. And before you know it, you and Steve were saying the same thing in the same affronted tone. “Tony?”
“Oh, god. You should’ve seen your faces!” Tony clapped his hands together, the force of his laughs making him bend down and clutch his knees. 
As he did that, the creepy atmosphere eroded, mist evaporating to reveal the large room behind it. Contrary to the other areas within the establishment, the room was full of life and spacious, with neon lights and a large disco ball illuminating it. All of the Avengers were there, and you even spotted Peter Parker in an Iron Man costume tearing Bucky’s ear off with one of his stories. Judging from the number of waiters tending to the even bigger number of guests, you knew what you walked into. 
“Did you seriously rent out a spooky house just so that you can throw a secret party in its basement?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 
“No,” Tony huffed, seemingly offended by the absurdity of your claim. “I bought it.”
Behind you, Steve was rolling his eyes while you raked your fingers through your loose ponytail. You were never going to understand billionaires and their logic. 
“I thought you were throwing a party at the Compound,” Steve finally spoke. And thank God he did before you ripped Tony a new one for the scare he’d just cost you. You were most certainly going to have him cover your health insurance for the next eon and the one after.
“I was. But then you bailed to play house with your girl—great costume, by the way, Y/N. We should talk to Fury about making you a SHIELD agent. And they say your boyfriend’s ass is America’s ass.”
“Tony!”
“What? Fine, don’t get jealous. You still are America’s ass but in a less sexy and more annoying way.”
“Would you just tell me what the hell was all this?”
“Man, if I knew all it would take me is Wanda’s freaky manipulation magic to get you to curse, I would’ve done that a long time ago.”
Feeling your headache on the verge of expanding, you put your hand on Steve’s arm and interceded, “It’s clear that you're high on mindlessness right now. So, once you’re down from the Tony Stark Clouds of Wonder, we’ll talk about you and your ridiculous behavior.”
“Geez Louise, you’re not dressed as a shield agent, but the female counterpart of Captain Stern over here.”
“At least I’m not one less nose away from looking like Voldemort,” you spat as you trudged toward the party, Steve a step behind you.
Tony scoffed, his voice softer compared to the blaring music. “I’m dressed as the Grim Reaper.”
“Yeah, well, your stick seems to have been lost somewhere up your ass!” 
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When you and Steve joined the party, you headed immediately toward the bar. You weaved your way across the dance floor, giving Sonic-dressed Pietro a quick wave and catching the eye of a disinterested Bruce in an Ultron costume. 
Natasha was at the bar, dressed as a ballerina with a pink tutu and a lot of pearly pins in her hair. You shot her a questioning look, which quickly dissolved courtesy of the menacing glare in her eyes. ‘Don’t ask,’ she silently communicated, and you were content with sitting there on a surprisingly comfortable barstool instead of running away from a wolf. 
“I can’t believe Tony did all of this?” Steve voiced out, shoulders hunched and laced with tension. 
Natasha handed him a signature fix she’d just made, passing you your drink of choice. “It’s not just you two. He did it to plenty of people.”
“Like who?”
“Bucky and Sam,” Natasha replied to your question. “They couldn't answer the riddle, so they got stuck outside cursing at one another until Strange had enough of their arguing and portalled them in. They were pretty pissed. Thor made it out, thanks to Loki. He enjoyed it, though. Loki? Not so much. He turned into a snake and tried to bite Tony the moment he got to the other side of the door. Pepper and Happy are next.”
You shook your head at the thought. “She’s going to kill him.”
“Exactly. Which is why he has a surprise for her, under lock and key, somewhere around here.”
Dissatisfied by the piece of information, Steve snatched his drink and faced the other way. “Of course, he’d try to get out something without facing the repercussions.” His attention focused on Tony's exaggerated gestures as he iterated his previous morbid speech to the new guests. 
Your eyes narrowed at Tony, thoughts errant as they dug up a hundred ways you could get back at him. Honestly, a part of you was willing to get Snake Loki to bite him or convince Dr. Strange to send him halfway across the universe. But you wanted to hit him where it hurts. You wanted him to feel the fear he inflicted on you and Steve, even if it was for just a moment. But Tony Stark didn’t fear anything. Well, apart from Starbucks running out of his favorite coffee and Pepper ignoring him. 
“Pepper!” you shouted in glee. Steve and Natasha looked between you and the door, thinking that Pepper had already crossed all the obstacles and made it safely to the party. A crease lined up on their foreheads when they didn't find her there. “Nat, you don’t happen to have a key to that room, do you?"
At the drop of a hat, Natasha caught on to what you were saying. She shook her head but deviously smirked, green eyes flickering to the space behind you. “I don’t. But Wanda’s been regretting helping Stark on this. It shouldn’t be hard to convince her to help you get back at him.”
You jumped from your seat, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The intensity of your excitement and the tug on Steve’s arm made his drink fall and spill on the countertop. It took you a minute to find Wanda, who was sitting in the corner with downcast eyes, nursing a drink. She didn’t hesitate to help you, literally jumping at the chance. 
Moments later, she led you to a room down a few halls and flicked her wrist, materializing a key and unlocking the door. Her 30s-inspired dress swung as her figure retreated. You looked at Steve, took a deep breath, and entered the room. But where you expected to find shopping bags, jewelry, or even a giant Iron Man teddy bear, what you found was something entirely different. 
“Steve,” his name came out as a whisper. “Please don’t tell me I have to explain what I’m seeing. Because I don’t think I can.”
Your gaze was fixed on your surroundings, unable to be torn from anything else. You didn’t see Steve’s unblinking eyes or the tingles that danced across his fingers. It took him a while before he composed himself and answered you. “It’s okay. I already know.”
The room was red, a deep, rich shade of scarlet red. And if you had been careful enough to read the plaque by the room’s door, you would’ve figured it was Tony’s Halloween version of the red room. But what was beneath the mirrored ceiling, which quite frankly made you hyperventilate at the thought of the glass possibly falling on you while sleeping on that astonishingly spacious king-sized bed, was not a welcoming ballet class with metal bars and pink pointe shoes on the side. It was red walls with metal cuffs and chains attached to them and a widespread table with three silk blindfolds, floggers, ropes, and a whole lot of other things that made heat rise to your cheeks. 
“We can’t destroy anything,” you breathed out with a voice that was too airy to be your own. “We can’t even hide anything with that wide selection Tony has. He’s not going to miss a blindfold, and he’ll just ask for another bottle of champagne.” 
Steve didn’t answer, his mind preoccupied with something else. You couldn’t fault him; it was exceedingly hard to look at the room around you. And when you chanced a glance at the corners, you had to bite your lip at the sight of the cameras and lighting. Tony went all out, and to be honest, you didn’t know if this was his “genius-philanthropist” side, who was investing in a sexually healthy relationship with Pepper, or if it was his “billionaire-playboy” side, who decided there’s no shame in indulging in a variety of pleasures and give Pepper the liberty of choice.
You were so lost in thought, you were surprised to find Steve examining one of the cameras. He flicked on the lights and turned the camera to your side. Your brain finally registered his actions, and you were sure he didn’t know what he was doing since he barely even knew how to answer a video call. But before you could say anything, Steve beat you to it.
“Why destroy when we can take advantage?”
The camera turned on. You could tell from the twinkle of mischief in Steve’s irises that he caught the stagger in your pulse before you even did. He turned around, his sculpted and perfectly molded back replaced with the sight of his chiseled jaw. You gulped, blood rushing to your ears while shivers rushed down your spine.
You watched as Steve glided across the room, footsteps light and noiseless compared to the harsh speed of your heartbeats and the fray within your every vein. You wanted him. And he knew because with each step he took to get closer to you, you didn’t falter. You stood right where you were, waiting for him to devour you.
His cerulean eyes transformed, ebbing and flowing in a sea of blue and green. Until his waves crashed against your shore, and you met them somewhere in the middle.
“Steve.”
He didn’t reply. He inched closer even though there was no more room for his body to creep to, forcing his knee between your legs and giving you no other choice but to open them. You almost stumbled but quickly understood what he wanted.
It was like a dance. Every time Steve moved closer, you found yourself stepping back until your back hit the door, leaving nothing but locked gazes between you. With a bated breath, you studied Steve’s movements, whimpering as his left arm rose and nestled against your head. His palm was pressed against the cold door, whose color burned with desire. And somehow, Steve absorbed that hunger and set your entire body ablaze with it. Without a single touch.
“I can feel you,” he murmured on top of your lips, his velvety breath claiming rights to a first kiss. Steve leaned his body closer, almost engulfing you whole. His index and middle fingers made contact with your skin, and you swore you could’ve exploded. He traced the distance between your fingers and forearm, leisurely exploring the smooth surface that framed your veins. Involuntarily, your head craned, exposing your neck as he inched closer and closer, cheekily exhaling against your pulse point. “I can smell you,” he almost moaned, or maybe that was you. “You smell so tart, so fresh. So, deliriously scrumptious.”
“Steve,” this time, you did moan, implicitly begging him to touch you. You heard the lock on the door click, but you didn’t dare move your eyes.
In the next few seconds, Steve pulled the key out of the keyhole. You exhaled loudly, head banging against the wooden door when he moved the metal keys against your clothed heat. Sparks ignited in your soul as you began to take the fast lane to heaven, and Steve’s voice didn’t help the ache recede. It only fanned its flames.
“So wet.” He knew it without feeling it for himself. “So inviting.” He moved the key from your center to your navel and then to your sternum. You hadn’t realized how hot your body was until the keys touched your collarbone. It was a clash of hot and cold—an explosion of the senses with Steve’s breath hovering against your shoulders to add the final and delicious touch. With tantalizing grace, the key danced across your throat and chin, lifting your head to meet Steve’s breathless whisper, “So beautiful.”
Your eyes met, and you couldn't tell if his pupils were dilated or if his typically clear blue eyes were merely mirroring your own. He trapped your cheeks in his hold, applying the slightest bit of pressure on them. You couldn’t help but gaze at the camera that recorded the way Steve tapped the key against your lips, almost pushing it in.
Within the next second, his fingers loosened around the key, making it fall into the open space of your suit. You moaned aloud, the sound stretching over a minute when Steve stuffed his index and middle fingers in your mouth while bringing his prominent bulge closer to your heat. “My mistake, little dove.” He thrust forward, his clothed dick deliciously humping against your pussy. You whimpered around his fingers. “Be a pretty little girl, Y/N, and suck on my fingers while I get back that key.”
You nodded your head, vehemently following his order. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked his fingers inside your throat—lost in the simple pleasures Steve Rogers was known to give.
He planted wet, demanding kisses on your neck and just below your ear, not too far from your earlobe but not close enough. His other hand caressed your cheek until it retreated and began to reach for the zipper on your suit. It was at the forefront, making it easy for Steve to find it and lower it down. His hips met yours just as you pushed his fingers away from your throat. You pulled them back in, keeping the rhythm going while your tongue swirled around his fingertips.
Your zipper lowered, slowly and placidly, yet there was nothing peaceful about the way Steve trailed his thumb across your exposed skin. A fire consumed you whole, a sinful moan escaping when he found the key and cupped your pussy, with it still in his hands. You could’ve cried then and there, and frankly, there were tears on the edge of your lashes. In your lustful delirium, you hadn’t noticed your hiked leg on Steve's waist, which was pushing him closer to your body. He massaged your heat, his fingers and the key playing with your clothed folds until he backed away completely to cup your cheeks.
“Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me, dove?” he asked in a sultry voice that made your core weep.
He took his fingers out of your mouth, keeping his eyes on parted lips. You wet your them eagerly, needing him to satiate your thirst. “Yes, Captain.”
Steve smirked, the key long forgotten but the desire ever-present. “When I sit down on the edge of that bed, you’re going to take off your clothes. I want you to keep that sinful bra, these terrible excuse for panties, and those high heels on. Nothing else, alright?”
“Yes, Captain,” you affirmed.
Steve leaned forward, his pink lips above yours. You chased them, greedily wanting a kiss. But the only thing you got was a smirk in return. He took a slight detour, heading toward the camera on the right to make sure it was on, too. His broad shoulders looked even more breathtaking in the softly lit space.
Then, he sat down on the large bed, legs open and inviting. You took it as your cue. Gracefully, you slipped the suit off your skin, sighing in exaggerated relief as the fabric released its hold. You were filled with a sense of accomplishment when Steve shifted in his seat, his throat bobbing. You grabbed at your sides, making sure your thong was at a perfect angle before lowering the rest of your suit down. Steve’s breath was caught in his throat, eyes examining you as you slipped off your shoes to peel the rest of your stealth suit off.
Remembering Tony’s previous remarks about the suit, you turned back, purposely bending over as you grabbed your shoes. You kept your back at the same lowered angle, giving Steve a front-row seat to your round ass, temptingly framed by the thin black thong you had on.
Despite your bubbling anticipation, you took your time. And you were not disappointed by the sight before you. Steve was already cupping his clothed erection, playing with himself because of your actions. You glanced at him, moving one heel in front of the other, but he put up his hand before you could move any closer.
“St—?”
“On your knees,” he ordered. You were surprised by his command but quickly composed yourself, setting yourself on your knees with your hands flat on your thighs obediently. “Crawl to me, little dove. Come and show me how good you can make a man feel.”
It was like you were moving on autopilot. All your brain could muster were thoughts of Steve. On top of you, underneath you, and facing you. Every single image was of him losing control and moaning your name without abandon. So, you crawled like the good girl you want to be—his good girl.
When you got to his side, you touched his ankles, hands skimming across his legs and fingers teasing the area behind his knees. Choked sounds escaped his parted lips, egging you on. Your lips landed on his clothed erection, and you stilled for a beat, then two. You could feel him twitch as a result of your gaze.
Hands on the inside of his thighs, you gave him a gentle squeeze. You puckered your lips and peppered kisses on his clothed erection, going as far as to whimper. There was soon pressure on your head once Steve carded his fingers in your hair. “Y/N,” he murmured. “Don’t tease.”
Your doe eyes met his in a luscious glance, his eyes never leaving yours. Not when you bit down on his belt, not when you untangled it with only your teeth, and certainly not when you helped him out of his suit, yanking down his boxers and sucking on his tip. “Yes, that’s it, dove. That’s it,” he said, head thrown back.
And you took the chance to make him crumble even more. His dick was large, exhilaratingly captivating. You felt dirty at the thought of wanting it inside of you—inside your mouth and your pussy. Hell, you even loved having it between your breasts. You just wanted Steve’s dick so bad, and you were not shying away from mentally admitting that Steve turned you from his little dove to his good little whore whenever his dick was involved.
You hollowed your cheek and took as much of his dick as you could in your mouth. You had been practicing, some nights trying to deepthroat him thrice to get every bit of him in you, tattooing your every essence on his cock. 
Steve moaned, loudly and pornographically, bucking inside your mouth. You accepted him, moving even further down across his shaft, the wet noises only spurring you on. Greedily, you used your hands to grip his base. When your mouth thrust deeper, your hands moved higher, creating a polarizing rhythm that left Steve throwing himself back against the bed. “Good God,” he practically screamed. “Take me. Take all of me in your little mouth and tiny hands, Y/N. Wet my dick with your mouth, baby girl. Make me cum just for you.”
You obliged, taking him even deeper and relishing his moans. Your lips moved lower, tongue circling around his balls before you sucked each of them in. His grip on you tightened, eliciting a slight pain in your head. But you didn't care. “Fucking good girl of mine,” he cried out breathlessly, fingers fisting your hair. “Fucking perfect mouth that’s made to take no one but me. To swallow no man’s cum but mine. To have its walls and roof painted white by my dick and my dick alone.”
Your pussy ached, and you found yourself desperately humping against the floor while you took his balls in your mouth, moaning like a fucking porn star. You were surprised your lustful sounds hadn’t attracted anyone yet, and you quickly realized that the room must’ve been soundproof. The realization made you rub your pussy harsher against the parquet floor, hands now gripping Steve’s thighs for dear life. 
In your peripheral vision, you saw Steve move his shoe-clad feet closer to your core. You whimpered, heart beating frantically against your ribcage. Steve was a gentleman, and while he could be feral in the bedroom, he could never find it in himself to humiliate or degrade. But he knew that when lust took over, you desperately wanted to be his slut. His whore. Nothing but a hole for him to abuse and fill at his leisure.
The first time you asked him to degrade you, he froze. And when he wasn’t comfortable with doing that, you didn’t ask again. But Steve would sometimes do something. A small gesture to appease the both of you. He’d reach out for the drawer and silently look at you with a soundless question: can I use toys? He’d put three fingers in your pussy and wait for you to ask for more before he fisted you.
And tonight, he was giving it to you. The chance to be degraded—to be his perfect little whore. And you took it, crying out loud, practically sobbing at the feel of your wetness coating his shoes. He didn’t move, but you did, swinging your hips back and forth while taking all of his dick in your mouth. You hadn’t noticed how utterly filthy and lewd you looked until you raised your eyes and met your reflection in the ceiling’s mirror. Steve was looking at you too. He watched the way you humped his shoes and took his cock in your mouth. He pushed you against his dick, and you choked. Your breathing became erratic the more you moved against his shoes, tears spilling down your eyes accompanied by the symphony of your satisfied sobs. And that did it for him. He exploded with a scream of your name, cum invading your mouth and taking over your entire senses.
He slowly shifted you back, freeing his shoe from your hold. You were a sight for sore eyes. Thong wet and askew, bra hanging low with pebbled nipples almost peeking out, eyes blown wide with desire. He devoured the painting in front of him, committing your disheveled hair and the cum dripping down the side of your red, swollen lips to memory.
“Captain.” Though he wasn’t too far off in his dreams—because they couldn’t rival this reality—Steve had to admit that he got lost in his thoughts. Your voice called out to him like a devious siren luring him to his demise. “Please. Take me.”
You gasped when his hands were suddenly on your ass, but you barely had the chance to think about it. In the next second, Steve placed you on the mattress with his lips perched above your own. They were like the forbidden fruit: enticing, delectable, and there. Just there, only slightly out of reach. He lightly caressed your lips, each time pulling back before you could reciprocate, repeating the motion until he finally yielded to you.
“Let me taste myself on your lips, little dove,” he breathed in your mouth huskily. “Prove to me I’m only appetizing on your tongue.” You obliged. Your lips captured his own in a violent assault, claiming his tongue as a hostage. Trapped within the walls of your mouth, it explored the edges and the roof, clashing against your own tongue.
You caressed his face, fingers grazing over the beginning of his stubble. A sigh escaped your lips, both from his seductive ministrations and the thought of his stubble against your wet pussy. The image dissolved as soon as his lips left your own. You yelped, finding Steve’s hands entrapping both of yours. “Stevie,” you whimpered, every syllable begging him for his attention. His other hand slithered down your body, gliding across your inner thigh. You thought this was it—he was finally giving you your heart’s desire. But instead of the moan you expected to flee from your throat’s confines, you heard yourself yelping. A sharp and blazing sensation overtook your core, forcing your head back.
“What do you want, dove? You gotta be specific for me, little one?”
“Your hands,” you moaned. It was quickly replaced by a sharp cry when Steve slapped your pussy again. “In me. Inside of me, please,” you begged, gasping when Steve landed another slap across your lower lips. Your clit ached, swollen and inflamed, showing Steve exactly where you needed him.
He slithered his fingers across your pussy lips, moving them up and down. You mewled, alternating between looking at your reflection in the mirror and looking at Steve. His fingers quickly found your entrance, and he put the tip of his fingers in. But the bane of mischief that Steve Rogers was in the bedroom, he took them out of you, replacing them with a harsh slap.
“Not yet,” he practically growled. Leaving you fighting for composure, Steve reached out to the table by his side. The first thing you saw was the handcuffs he diligently wrapped around your hands and secured against the bedframe. The second was the silver silk blindfolds, which he wrapped around your eyes.
You willingly slipped into the darkness, mesmerized by the sea of possibilities before you. Your senses amplified when Steve’s fingers traveled down the expanse of your body. You felt the bed dip, Steve’s bulky frame nestled on top of your stomach. And you melted in a pool of unbridled hunger when he tapped his index finger against your lips with a single command, “Don’t swallow.”
You half expected him to be jerking and ready to unload his load in your mouth. Or maybe he wanted you to take him once more down your throat. But you almost gagged at the feel of the cold liquid inundating your mouth—the taste of the bubbling champagne asserting its dominance.
Steve set the bottle down, leaving you unsure whether he had taken a sip or not. His earlier ministrations resumed, this time hands tugging at your bra. He cupped your breasts, weighing them in his hands. You wanted to moan so badly, but you didn’t want to defy his orders.
He reveled in the way you whimpered, sounds oppressed by the force of his command. He continued playing with your breasts, keeping your left one in his hand and drawing special attention to your right one. He peppered both of them with kisses, using his tongue to circle the area around your nipple and make your pussy clench around nothing but the air that surrounded you.
You bucked against his tongue, hands tugging at the restraints, but they refused to budge. Not that you expected them to. Breathing through your nose, you tried to reach for your impending release. You were no stranger to nipple orgasms, and Steve was trying to draw one out of you—you were sure. A fire built up inside of you, leaving your body temperature rising. You thrust your hips in the air. Sadly, nothing caught their movements.
Steve alternated between both nipples, giving each of them an equal amount of attention. You cried louder, trying to hold the champagne in. You were about to come when Steve pulled away.
A high-pitched whine reflected your displeasure, gaining you a slap to your pussy. “Patience,” Steve ordered, and you reluctantly obliged. Even though you ached to be ravaged by him, whether by his hands, tongue, or dick, you had to admit that you were enraptured by his movements and were always more than eager to lose yourself in his lustful tempest.
You let some fresh air fill your lungs, still breathing through your nose, while Steve adjusted himself on your body. Though blindfolded, your senses were elevated, and you could sense Steve’s body heat creeping closer to yours. True to your suspicion, he loomed over you. One of his hands slithered across your neck, trapping you in a chokehold. You embraced his untamed gestures, craning your head to hopefully meet his face. 
Without so much as a clue, Steve crashed his lips against yours with such fervor it left you reeling. You couldn’t keep the champagne in anymore, feeling Steve steal some of it from your mouth to his, letting the rest fall down across your chin and chest. Steve didn’t kiss you at that moment. He consumed you, engulfed you with his mouth, greedily taking in everything you had to offer. 
You were an instrument, and he was the musician, releasing one string to play with the other. With a loud pop, he let go of your mouth, licking a long stripe down your neck and nibbling at the shell of your ear. “Mine,” he roared, one of his hands moving to your center.
“Yours,” you confirmed, eyes misty with lust and heart lost in the haze of Steve’s ardor. “I’m yours,” you barely managed to whisper before you cut yourself off with a loud yell. Your head hit the pillow, your body forced down by the weight of Steve’s palm on your stomach. You felt something enter your drenched pussy, seething itself to one side. You breathed in deeper now that your mouth had been free of the champagne’s grasp. 
You winced, something else entering the right side of your pussy. Steve played with your clit, easing the discomfort. As the pain ebbed and passion rose, you quickly figured out what had Steve done: he’d put Ben Wa balls inside of you.
“You’re such a perfect little dove, Y/N. Letting me do anything and everything I want to do with you, knowing I’ll make you feel so good. Make you feel so perfect.”
“Yes,” you nodded vehemently, restraints rattling in harmony. “Yes, Captain. You make me feel so good.”
Steve smirked, and you just knew it from when he cupped your breasts and covered them with his mouth. “Just as you make me.”
He pulled your tits apart, and you hopped that meant he was going to fuck you. To fuck the brains out of you and the desire that’s nestled deep within your core. But of course, a super soldier like Steve wouldn’t be done yet. You didn’t know how much time had passed, whether it was an hour or an eon, but time always seemed inconspicuous when Steve was involved.
“Do this one little thing for me, baby doll. And I promise, I will let your pretty princess pussy milk my cock.”
“Anything,” you replied. Steve kissed you then, short but passionate. He pulled back and gave you one more peck before you felt him squeeze your tits once more, this time putting his dick between them. “Oh God. Oh God, Steve!”
“You like taking my cock any way you can, little dove,” he stated matter-of-factly, thrusting himself in the space between your tits and toying with your nipples at the same time. “You like having me as yours. Being the only woman in the world who can take my cock in a dozen different ways. The only woman who I can paint with my cum.”
“Steve,” you mewled loudly and sinfully. His movements, your thoughts, and the added pressure of the Ben Wa balls deep inside of you did so little to appease your heat. You cried and cried, moaning louder than any porn star in existence. And when you felt Steve grunt in pleasure, you gave it to him.
“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he cursed when you spat at his dick, drool dripping down your lips and mixing with precum. “You’re so shamelessly beautiful like this. My favorite piece of art.”
He thrust faster, lifting one breast and lowering the other to create an earth-shattering friction that left his dick twitching by your mouth. You knew what was coming, and you didn’t care whether Steve would allow your release or not. You opened your mouth, counting down his brisk breaths. He grunted twice, moaned once, and nestled his head in your neck to bite down on your shoulder. He was coming. So, you opened your mouth and took as much as you could while the rest of him mesmerizingly decorated your face and chest.
Steve released your tits, but the pressure in your core only barely subsided. He kissed your forearms, wet lips trailing your hands until he reached your wrists. Finally, after so much waiting, he released your hands and untied the blindfold. You squinted at the invasive light. Steve took this as a chance to kiss your eyelids, thumb caressing the curve of your mouth. “You’ve been so good to me, little dove. I think it’s time to get your reward. Would you lay on your stomach for me?”
You opened your eyes, seeking the warmth of his irises. “Uh-huh,” was all that you said before Steve helped you to the position he wanted. He unclipped your bra and slowly discarded your thong. Your pussy clenched, and he kissed your ass cheek when he noticed. “I’ll give you everything you need and more, my Y/N.”
Steve reached out for a pillow, placing it on your pelvis. “Stevie, please. I can’t wait anymore. Please, baby.”
“Don’t beg, little dove,” Steve told you while moving your hair to the side and positioning himself above you. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m yours. Take all of me.” 
You whimpered, teary eyes looking at him to relieve you of your ache. Steve immediately moved his tip along your folds to collect your essence. Yearning for you as much as you yearned for him, he began to slowly sheath himself inside of you. You cried out at the sheer size of him, hands fisting the sheets beneath you. 
Steve inserted himself slowly, bottoming out with a deep, guttural moan. “Fuck,” you breathed, grinding your hips against his—the friction amplifying his passion and yours. The Ben Wa balls intensified your lust, making you feel full and empty all at once. 
Slowly, he started to move. His thrusts were sharp and deep, reflecting his need for you. But the more you moaned, the more he faltered, digging his dick further inside you. “You feel so good,” he admitted, knowing this position was a favorite of yours. You both had quickly discovered that it made for the best sex—giving Steve a clear route to your g-spot and an earth-shattering orgasm.
“More,” you demanded, seeking out his unbridled hunger. “Please, more!” You wanted to feel him lose control inside of you. You adored feeling him lose control inside of you. Steve obliged, thrusting in and out of you at a maddening pace, deeply embedding himself within your heat. “Fuck, Steve. Fuck!” you cried, his balls hitting your skin, adding to the lewdness of the scene.
“Tell me I can go faster,” Steve almost begged. You tilted your head, finding him with eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration. There was a thin layer of sweat on his face, and you sought his hand to interlace your fingers, finding ways to mold into each other further. “Tell me I can ravage you. Tell me that I can give you all of me, Y/N.”
You squeezed his hand, and he reciprocated your touch. His thrusts were on the precipice of control, as were his actions, this close to tipping over the edge. He had taken your neck hostage in his large veiny hands, thrusting his tongue inside your mouth in tandem with his dick inside your pussy. “Lose control,” you told him. “Lose yourself in me, Captain.”
And lose himself he did. His thrusts became irregular, and it was hard to tell where exactly his hands were on your skin. They were squeezing your breasts, roaming your stomach, tightly pressing against your ass. He was everywhere. You looked up at the ceiling, salivating and burying your face in the mattress at the beautiful portrait you and Steve painted together. You both moaned louder than ever before, the cameras eagerly commemorating your actions. 
“Steve, I’m so close,” you warned him when he kept on repeatedly hitting your g-spot. His response came in the form of short but sweet-sounding kisses planted from your collarbone to your neck. He nibbled on the shell of your ear, licking the skin there and sucking on it.
“Cum, little dove,” he said huskily. “Cream my cock.”
You moved faster against his dick, taking all of him in until you collapsed in on yourself, every part of you stealing Steve’s affection. You clenched hard against his dick, feeling yourself squirt and cream his cock. It didn’t take him seconds before he exploded inside of you, emptying his load for the third time with a scream of your name. He didn’t relent, though. His sporadic movements picked up again. At this point, you were far too lost in the haze of your unabashed engagements to notice. It didn’t take you long to feel another orgasm building up.
You were about to warn Steve when he flipped you over on your back, dick salaciously pounding into your pussy. Determination itched on his brows, and undiluted want lined his irises. He put his hand on your mouth, and you wailed, back arching, pussy squirting (again. How is this even possible?), and your entire surrounding collapsing on itself.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING?” you heard a high-pitched scream. Too far gone in the throes of passion, you weren’t aware that Tony had opened the door, leading Pepper inside the room. But oh, Steve did. Judging by the smirk, he had heard them coming in.
“Do I really need to explain to you the birds and the bees, Tony?” he mocked, securing the sheets around you both and hiding you from view. His dick twitched inside of you, making it harder for you to breathe.
Tony looked furious. “What I need to you to explain, you ungrateful ass, is what are you doing in this room?
Steve arched an eyebrow. “Procreating,” he answered. You had to cover your mouth and hide behind him so as not to laugh. You could barely move from all the previous activities, and Steve’s dick inside of you, trapped between your overused pussy and the Ben Wa balls, wasn’t really helping the situation. “What are you doing here? Is that why you made comments about Y/N’s ass? Were you hoping to watch us or something?”
“OH MY GOD.”
“Pepper. No, I swe—”
“Is that your idea of making it up to me? Watching Y/N and Steve go at it. Tony—”
“Absolutely not! Do I look like I have a grandfather kink or something?”
“Then, why are we in this room?”
“Well, I was hoping we could engage in—”
“ENGAGE? With Steve and Y/N??”
“NO. I don’t even know what they’re doing here!”
“What every two consenting adults do,” you added with a raspy voice. Tony’s expression was almost as good as the sex you just had. He was utterly dumbfounded, desperately raking his brain to persuade Pepper that this wasn’t what she thought she was. “Nice costume, Pep. I’m sorry. We were told there was a surprise waiting for us for the emotional trauma caused by your genius playboy.”
“Yeah,” Pepper exhaled. She was dressed in what you assumed was an Asgardian dress, and you felt guilty to have ruined her night. “Well, it was a surprise for all of us. I’m sorry on behalf of the idiot playboy.”
Pepper glared at Tony, heels digging into his shoes. He cursed, his frustrations matching hers. “Pepper,” he begged breathlessly. But she was already gone. “I’m getting you two back for this. I swear.”
“No, Tony. We will not send you a copy of our sex tape,” you teased, purposely raising your voice. You swore Tony’s arc reactor was going to malfunction.
“I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING. PEPPER, I SWEAR. SHE’S LYING!!”
And with that, he left, leaving you and Steve hysterically laughing. He kissed you breathlessly, hands holding your face like you were the most precious thing in his life. “Halloween wasn’t that bad.”
“No. I kind of like this house now, too.”
“Me too, dove. I love every place I make happy memories there with you.” And happy memories you continued to make with Tony and Pepper’s squabble long lost in the background.
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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year
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Final Bids [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]
Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (19) Stakes are high and mischief is rife at Stark's charity auction. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Auction trope. Smuttish. Language. Mild Angst -> Fluff. (w/c 4.7k)
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Loki hadn’t shown up fighting his way through customs at the airport. There was no dramatic kiss on the runway, and no hint of his theatrical presence at the other side when you landed at JFK. He’s never text you before, he won’t start now; you thought, staring at the blank phone screen resting on the bar of the Tower’s event suite. You stared at it, hoping for a miraculous flash. This is mad.
“Hey.” Wanda said, sliding into the seat beside yours. “Hey.” you replied flatly. She was dressed to the nines tonight, cleavage bursting from a sinfully red strapless dress. “You better be careful in that thing, Thor will get the wrong idea.” you muttered, taking another sip of your drink. “Oh, I’m counting on it.” Wanda winked. “Have you seen him?” she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder as she scanned the room.
“No...I need to talk to him, actually.” you said, joining her in scouting the bustling crowd. Wanda hummed, distracted. Needing to talk to Thor, you chided yourself; say you’re desperate without saying you’re desperate. “I still think you should have given Stark a pair of used panties for this thing.” the redhead mumbled coyly as she turned back to you, satisfied her audience of choice was not in the direct vicinity. “I don’t think anyone wants my dirty underwear, girl.” you laughed, happy for the distraction. “Please.” she scoffed. “Whatever pheromones you’re pumping out had two gods fighting over you. Lit-e-ral-ly.” she said, emphasising with four slaps of her palm on the bar. “People would pay good money to wear that shit like perfume. Mark my words.” You shrugged, seeing Wanda’s eyes narrow. “I think my pheromones are officially out of business, honestly” you sighed, “Rome didn’t exactly go to plan. I think we’re done.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “You always say that. And then the next time I see you, the hair’s all fucked out and you have a big dopey smile on your face and something new he’s said or done that’s driving you crazy. It’s your thing. Your couple thing.” “We’re not a couple.” you snapped.
“If you say so.” Wanda murmured coyly, manoeuvring the tiny straw hanging off her cocktail into her mouth.
There was a pause as you both ran your eyes over the elegant guests returning from intermission. So far, the charity auction had been a roaring success. Your combat belt went for a respectable forty-eight large, while a pair of Banner’s ripped shorts and Bucky’s unwashed sweatband had both garnered over fifty thousand. You knew the world had gone officially mad when Rogers’ notebook of patriotic mindfulness ramblings reached double that. Tony was working his magic on a group of shareholders near the head of the hall, raucous laughter splitting the gin-soaked air. Steve stood at the podium, frowning. As expected, he was taking the duty of auctioneer very seriously.
“What did you hand over to Tony’s fund, then?” you said, crossing your legs on the barstool. “A bra.” Wanda shrugged, as you spluttered on a mouthful of diet coke. “What?!” she postured innocently, “it’s for charity.” The two of you burst into peals of laughter, your gaze drawn back to Captain Rogers squinting at his cards on the stage. “Oh, Steve’s gonna love that.” you gasped, wiping a tear from your eye. Wanda shrugged again. “They said a personal item that people would want – so I complied.” Clint peeled away from the edge of the crowd, leaning on the bar beside you. “Ladies.” he said solemnly, letting his stare wander from a distance over the pulsing mass of people. “Have either of you seen Laufeyson?” Wanda shook her head. “I don’t think he’s coming, he’s not on the auction list – hasn’t even submitted anything.” she said casually, fiddling with her straw. Your stomach dropped, as Clint grimaced. “Good.” he said, letting out a sigh of relief. You frowned. “What’s the problem?” A forced smile stretched across Barton’s face. “Oh nothing! Just...trying to lay low that’s all. He and I had a little...never mind.” You shifted your handbag on the bar, feeling the weight of Loki’s seal rolling gently against the sides. He wouldn’t want to lose it, you thought; remembering the awkward conversations with airport security in Rome. A flash of green caught your attention out the corner of your eye. Whipping your head towards the entrance, you watched as a polished and preened Amanda sashayed around the edge of the crowd like a shark. Green, you scoffed. She’s really laying it on thick. Amanda teetered on her heels before pausing, forehead creased as she plopped down on a chair and hoisting one leg over the other. Clint cleared his throat. “They’re starting again, Tony sent me to get you guys. Shall we?” The next forty-five minutes went by in a haze as your gaze flickered intermittently to the main doors. Loki never missed a chance to schmooze with the higher echelons of Midgardian society. He enjoyed the look of abject terror on Steve’s face too much. You clapped dryly with the others as each lot was closed: Thor’s silk nightcap, Natasha’s make-up case, Lang’s personalised hip-flask and of course...Wanda’s bra. Where is he? You couldn’t help but notice Amanda glancing over her shoulder, meeting your eyes each time before quickly turning away. She made no bids, you noticed; but her stare wandered to the main entrance with suspicious regularity. The same as your own. Steve rumbled on, pausing for laughter as the crowd graciously indulged their host for the evening. Tony heckled from the side-lines, making the captain’s cheeks flush pink on each occasion. As he began the speech he had rehearsed for the closing remarks, you saw his blue eyes widen. The tell-tale shuffle of bodies parting behind you was the only other sound you registered as whispers ran through the crowd like the rustle of leaves. “Good Evening, Agent.” a low voice drawled softly over your shoulder. Wanda elbowed you teasingly in the ribs, her hands still folded on the high circular cocktail table. You elbowed her sharply back.
Tilting your chin casually to the side, you saw the blurred edge of Loki’s profile as he hovered at a respectful distance. “You’re late.” you hissed, heart thundering in your chest as the scent of him infused the air. You could have sworn the holy incense from the Roman church still clung to his hair. Loki chuckled lightly under his breath, hot air ghosting your ear. “I think you’ll find I’m right on time.” he purred, before peeling away to a space at a standing table to your side. Suddenly your mouth felt dry, flickering your eyes to the side covertly. Loki was wearing a suit tonight, but not just a suit; you whined internally. Never just a suit. Snug trousers of darkest forest green clung to his legs, the straight hem tailored flawlessly to the tongues of his dress shoes. A jacket of green sateen was wrapped around his exquisite musculature, biceps bulging beneath the glossy fabric as he conjured a drink to his open hand. You ran your eyes over the black lapel, his strong chest flat beneath the trussed layers of propriety you wanted to rip from his body.
Beneath the jacket, a silk waistcoat hugged his broad torso; the buttons glinting in the low atmospheric lights. A matching cravat wound around his long neck, fastened with a peculiar brooch you could only assume was Asgardian.
His hair was drawn back in an unkempt bun, messy strands hanging by his carved cheekbones. The contrast between his refined ensemble and the muss of his hair was not coincidental. It couldn’t be. A gentleman in the streets, a ravenous Asgardian whore in the sheets; it screamed. In his free hand, he held a cane; the tip heavy and ornately carved. Completely unnecessary, of course. Of course, you thought – watching him sip his drink with a knowing smirk. People were staring. And among them, Amanda. Steve cleared his throat pointedly, trying to recapture the section of the crowd engrossed in the unexpected late arrival. Your gaze swung back to the blushing blonde just as a stagehand crept sheepishly to his side, handing him a note.
“-and so in conclusion we would like to thank...to...wait wha-?” he raised his hands towards Tony, waving to the note with undisguised irritation. You saw Stark shrug, closing his eyes as his eyebrows raised. Just go with it, the gesture said. Steve frowned. “It seems we have one final item for auction, folks.” the captain said sourly, his feelings on the matter abundantly clear. “Courtesy of Loki Laufeyson apparently...which is..is-” He trailed off as he flipped the prompt card in his hand over, before waving it subtlety to the man who had delivered it, hidden offstage. The stagehand shrugged, making Steve purse his lips. “Well...I’m sure whatever our newest member has submitted for tonight’s fundraising efforts will be top notch. Why don’t we get the man himself up here to tell us about it, since he’s being so coy?” Steve looked smugly towards towards the god in the crowd, before he frowned. Loki was already sauntering towards the stage, tipping the ostentatious cane to excited applause before he began to climb the steps. You could see Steve’s lips moving, the rest of his face a stoic warning. He spun on his heels towards the audience, whipping the microphone cable once. “So, why don’t you tell the generous people here what they’ll be bidding on?” he announced through gritted teeth, an air of joviality barely masking his anxiety. Rogers gaze ran suspiciously over the god's placid features before turning back to the crowd with a showman smile. Loki clasped his hands behind his back, leaning forward to the microphone clenched in the captain’s fist. “Me.” he said, slowly.
There were gasps as the guests leaned to each others ears, hands impulsively travelling to the bidding paddles discarded prematurely. “Ha-ha-ha he’s only joking folks. Let’s not get excited.” Steve chuckled, extending a hand to pat down the enthusiasm on the air. “Why don’t you tell them what they’ll really be bidding on.” he said with a maniacal fake smile that looked like it hurt. Loki’s smirk was a masterpiece of mischief, flirting at the dimples at the base of those devastatingly high cheekbones. He bent forward to the microphone, and you saw the exact moment that Steve realised it was too late to pull it away. “Me.” Loki repeated with a growl, his voice even richer and more seductive the second time. His long fingers wrapped around Steve’s white knuckles, holding him steady. “For one night, for the highest bidder; I will show them what it is to be brought to the precipice of sanity through pleasure. My complete and utter carnal devotion. An unlocking of your basest and most debauched desires. That is my submission to this affair.” He straightened, his eyes flickering to Steve’s face now pinker than his fuchsia tie. The poor captain’s eyes were watering. You felt sick. “What the fuck is he doing?” Wanda hissed, before downing her drink. “This is ridiculous, how dare he... he needs a knee in the nuts-” You turned, shushing her. “No, just...I need to..think.” you muttered. On one hand, if he didn’t go above fifty thousand...you could probably afford it. Just. But then, why should you? The arrogant, cruel prick that he was. If there was ever a way to show you that he was over it, over you – then this was it. Fuck him, you thought; blood thundering as you saw Amanda twirling the paddle between her fingers. And he’s definitely going above fifty-fucking-thousand. You saw Tony begin to squirm as Steve took a few tentative steps to the front of the podium. “You know...ladies and gents I gotta say this is pretty heckin’ unorthodox right here and I’m not sure-” In a handful of frantic bounds, Tony was on the stage; his arms spread wide before he clapped Rogers harshly on the back. “-OK, thanks Cap.” he announced playfully. “Captain Goodtimes over here doesn’t think it would be proper to support tonight’s great cause with this...fine specimen on the bidding block.” He motioned up and down Loki’s long body, his endless limbs wrapped in the exquisite green suit that shimmered like blackbird feathers in the light. “Do you agree with him?” Tony yelled incredulously, winding up the baying crowd with a circling fist as chants of No filled the air. Steve was incandescent with embarrassment, redness flushing down beneath the collar of his shirt. “Are you ready to get a piece.of.this?” Tony roared, as Loki spun slowly on his heels, hands clasped behind his back before he raised them outwards with faux sheepishness. A smile tugged his lips, eyes smouldering across the crowd becoming steadily unsettled as friends became adversaries in the face of competition. Chaos was brewing.
You suddenly felt yourself jostled, Wanda’s hand grasping at your forearm before it slipped away. Swathes of guests crowded forward, each trying to be subtle and failing miserably. Men and women crushed together towards the stage, elbows popping dangerously close to eyes as they readied their paddles for action. “Let’s start the bidding at...twenty thousand.” Tony postured towards the fizzing audience, casting an appraising glance back towards Loki who met his stare with a tilt of his head. His lips pursed, a silent 'ooo' sliding between his lips as he feigned offence.
Tony grinned, pressing the microphone innocently to his chin. “Number seventeen, I see you.” he pointed. “Twenty five thousand.” a strangled voice shrieked behind you. “Twenty-five, not bad.” Tony mumbled, beginning to pace. Loki swung the handle of his cane casually, before making it flip in the air and land expertly back in his grip. The crowd groaned in unison, the scent of mass arousal beginning to hang heavy in the air. You felt your pussy clench beneath your party dress, beads of sweat beginning to form on your collarbone. In a flash, the cane disappeared, as Tony let his forefinger trail down the silk of Loki’s waistcoat, toying with a chain hanging from the pocket. “It’s a nice suit Laufeyson – you’ve got quite the wardrobe, but I think your bidders are more interested in what’s underneath all that slutty satin am I right?” he said coyly, raising an eyebrow. Feral roars of approval sounded around you, as you were shunted back and forth. The man beside you shot up his hand. “Thirty-five!” he yelled, waving the paddle in the air. The increments came like bullets as Loki’s fingers toyed with the silk cravat wound around his neck, sliding the material teasingly from the curve. He threw it into the audience, two women falling to the floor as they became a squabbling mess of bare legs and dishevelled Chanel.
This can’t be happening, you thought with a wave of panic. You clenched the paddle in your fist to your chest, watching the smouldering sweep of Loki’s gaze run like treacle over his captive audience as he began to shrug the satin jacket from his shoulders.
“Fifty!” you heard yourself gasp, arm straight in the air. Tony’s face scrunched, his amusement palpable as he acknowledged the desperate bid with a nod. But it was white noise. “Sixty-five!” the man beside you blurted immediately, shouldering you roughly to the side as he squeezed forwards. You cast a pleading look towards Wanda, who shook her head in disapproval. Tony didn’t have to say a word, pointing to each bidder as they continued to come thick and fast. Loki held his waistcoat with one long finger, dangling it teasingly to the side before letting it drop. It vanished before hitting the floor. Seventy. Eighty-two. Ninety-five thousand. The devastatingly erotic god treated each button of his shirt like an act of foreplay. His fingers caressed the curve before releasing another sliver of fair skin to the sound of baying moans of desire all around you. Beginning to force your way against the tide of bodies to Wanda, you collided with Scott. “Oh hey.” he grinned, eyes wide with excitement. “This is fucking ca-ray-zy right?” Another wave of squeals told you Loki had reached the end of the line of buttons. Suddenly Scott raised both arms, throwing his head back. “A HUNDRED N’ FIFTY BIG ONES!” he yelled, returning to his previous stance as if nothing had happened.
“What?” he quipped casually, giving a shrug of resignation as he was immediately outbid. “Just shooting my shot. Plus, this is legend already. Iconic. No way I ain’t gonna be part of that.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to press against the mass of bodies to the side. “We should get t-shirts. ‘I bid on Loki Laufeyson’…” he joked to no-one. “’And all I got was this stupid semi.’” he added wistfully as you finally reached Wanda. “I saw your bid. It was kind of lame.” she drawled. You shook your head. “I don’t know what to do Wanda.” you whined, wringing your hands. You heard a commotion as the crowd parted over near the doors – a woman had fainted. Loki’s smirk was pure drama as he showed off the endless length of his body with finesse, bare chest glowing beneath the stage-lights. His legs were wide – a perfect triangle wrapped in tight, luxurious cotton that creased against his thighs. The bulge of his cock was clearly visible, every subtle sway of his hips making the fabric stretch against the outline. The bladed angles of his face flashed tantalisingly beneath heavy-lidded eyes as he reached for his belt buckle. Five hundred thousand. Five-fifty. Six hundred.
Wanda rolled her eyes again. “Look – if he doesn’t say it back? Well then he’s the same asshole he’s always been. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that.” she mumbled, taking another sip of her drink. “But the auction-” you whined, feeling Wanda’s other-worldly grip tighten on your wrist. “You’re an Avenger, dumbass.” she growled. “Fuck the auction.” “Fuck the auction.” you repeated unconvincingly under your breath, turning to face the source of your undoing. Loki’s eyes met yours across the room as he ambled forwards, ignoring the hordes of guests who had lost all sense of decorum scrounging at the stage’s edge. They were feral. Over the chaotic din, you could swear you heard the clunk of metal as his graceful fingers toyed with the metal fastening at his hips. He slid the leather out of its loops slowly. Tony wolf- whistled. “Hoooo-eee folks, do I hear seven hundred thousand for a night of debauchery with this actual...real life...bona-fide sex god. Think of the orphans, people.” he jibed, working the crowd into a frenzy. Eight hundred, eight-fifty, nine hundred. You watched the constant flash of frenzied paddles rise and fall, your breaths becoming ragged under duress. “Do I hear one million?!” Tony smarmed, unfurling his arm towards Loki who had placed his hands on his hips, working the waistband of his trousers down to reveal the V of his muscles. “Come on, we’ve all seen the Twitter photos...don’t pretend you haven’t read the tabloids - you know he’s worth it.” Loki flicked a strand of hair back from his eyes, throwing Tony a slow wink as a paddle for the one million bid rose tentatively in the air. Fuck, Tony. you thought, slamming your paddle down to the bar table. “Are you gonna use that?” a woman behind you mumbled inaudibly, before sliding it away. Your frantic eyes found Amanda, still seated elegantly at one of the high stools. There was something different about her tonight, you pondered; as she waited with a look of unbreakable concentration. Waiting to pounce.
There were gasps as Loki reached one arm up, the mouth-watering curve of his bicep matched only by the tight stretch in his obliques. He tilted his chin down, the coquettishly slutty pose making you realise a flood of wetness had begun pooling traitorously between your thighs. He slowly dragged the hair-tie from his messy bun, letting waves of curls fall around his collarbone. “Final bids, folks.” Tony sighed. “I don’t think Laufeyson can take off any more clothes without Steve-y boy going into cardiac arrest.” he quipped, fighting to contain laughter as he glanced at Rogers concealed off stage. Final bids. A wave of nausea rolled in your belly. Who had bid last? Was it the stockbroker, the mayor’s wife? Obama? You couldn’t tell, the mass of jostling bodies melding into one horrible sludge of jealousy. “Two million.” a clear-cut voice called over the carnage. Every head in the room turned to gape at the owner, but you didn’t even need to look. It was her. Tony released a low whistle, spinning on his heels and patting Loki on the shoulder with a commiserate shake. “Two million. No pressure, bud. Hope the royal sceptre has been resting recently.” he mumbled with feigned secrecy into the microphone. Loki chuckled, leaning over. “A veritable bargain, I assure you.” he smirked. “That’s my boy!” Tony chuckled gleefully, spinning to the front. “Two million going once…” Your eyes were wide, turning to Wanda who nudged her head frantically to the head of the room. Tackle him, it said. “Two million going twice…” - “Where’s my paddle…?” you gasped, not thinking straight, “I..fuck.” “Sold!” Tony yelled, to moans of disappointment and reluctant clapping. “To the beautiful Amanda Goldberg for two...million...dollars. Come get your prize, m’lady.”
You saw red, the room starting to spin as the applause grew louder. The flow of Amanda’s dress swirled towards the stage, a bare-chested Loki down on one knee to welcome her with a kiss on her outstretched hand. “Loki, no!” you gasped quietly– pushing the crowd to the side as you elbowed forward. His arm slid around Amanda’s shoulders, planting a lingering kiss on her cheek with a secret smile. “Loki!” you yelled, shoving the final obstacle from your path. Tony. He spluttered, waving his hands dramatically as you hopped onto the stage and took three stumbling steps to where Loki waited with hands clasped behind his back. Even in his stripped state, messy curls hanging devilishly around his chiselled features dark with the lust of baying adoration – he was a prince. Your prince. The crowd began to whisper, awkward murmurs of dissent bubbling like lava at your back. You could feel the heat of their confusion wafting against your skin as it rose in your cheeks. Loki stared unblinking, his eyes narrowing for a split second as he analysed your stricken features.
“Can I help you?” he purred innocently, drumming his fingers around Amanda’s bicep. She gave a loud, cartoonish giggle. You swallowed harshly, throat dry. Loki tilted his head, feigned-confusion painted on his ethereal features. You grasped at your clutch bag, feeling it click open with a fumble of your moist fingers. “I wanted to give you this...back.” you stuttered, arm outstretched with his ancient seal in the flat of your palm.
Loki looked at it for what felt like an eternity, before his eyes finally rose.
“Are you sure you wish to return this to me?” he murmured, arm dropping from Amanda’s shoulder. His chin was tilted to his chest, ropes of muscle flexing at his neck. The growing whispers of the crowd faded to nothing, the beat of your heart the only sound as it thudded in your ears. “No, actually.” you heard yourself say, voice trembling. Loki inhaled sharply. His chest puffed, hard abdominals clenching as he braced himself. Reluctant tears stung your eyes, fingers shaking as the heavy seal began to quiver in your outstretched hand. You tried to blink the impending flood away, glancing to the side. Steve stood behind the wings, wringing his hands with a deep frown. Your eyelids fluttered shut, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. You could hear Tony trying to clear the crowd, tempting them to the bar with the offer of free booze, before Loki’s warm breath fanned your forehead. “Then do not return it.” he said, carefully wrapping your fingers around the cool metal. His hand clasped your own, squeezing gently as he lowered to your ear. “It is yours.” he whispered. It is yours. Maybe it was the scent of him, maybe it was the heat of his naked skin so close, the warmth with which his fingers intertwined with yours, holding his sacred mark. Maybe it was the faint plead in his voice. But as your eyes rose along the carved lines of his chest and up the curve of his neck, savouring every inch – you somehow knew what you would find. Loki’s eyes shone with nervous anticipation, brows slanted upwards as he licked his bottom lip. His teeth caught the curve, pulling gently. They swam with worlds unseen and words unsaid, long lashes framing the endless chaos you had lost yourself within. Hopelessly.
A rogue tear rolled down your cheek, making you look away. “No, darling...no-” Loki murmured, confusion lacing his tone as he wiped it softly with his thumb.
He cupped your face, drawing it towards him. “Please, Loki...don’t.” you gulped, swallowing the force threatening to humiliate you in front of the whole of New York high society. He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. Tendrils of his hair grazed your cheeks, curtaining you from the crowd at your back as his fingertips slid from your jaw to your shoulders; gently at rest. “Agent, I…” he started, breath trembling. His grip tightened, a staggered exhale making his stomach clench. Three loud slaps sounded by your feet, making you jump. Loki released you with a growl, as you spun towards a very pissed-off looking Tony resting casually on the side of the stage.
“Can you guys hurry up? Trying to save this thing, here. Thanks, Laufeyson, by the way, for the added theatrics. Very amusing, as always.” he scoffed dryly, inspecting his nails. “Will you desist?” Loki hissed, crouching forward. Tony shrugged. “Better get the two mill for the orphans. That’s all I’m saying. Little Loki’s got his work cut out tonight.” “Little?!” Loki snarled indignantly, sweeping his hair back from his forehead as he rose to his full height once more.
The vein in his temple twitched, anger flashing across the sharp profile you knew so well. You grasped his bicep, feeling the tight bulge soften as his breaths steadied. Nerves twisted in your belly like acid, the room beginning to swim as you felt the moment begin to pass. Not again. You took a deep breath; “Loki, what were you going to-” The god whipped round, jaw set in a grimace as he swiped against your forearm with his own. Your hand was swept from his bicep, caught in a millisecond by the warrior grasp of his long fingers. “That I love you, you infuriating woman.” he yelled ferociously, brow furrowing as he realised he had said it aloud. You gaped, frowning as you fought lacklustre against his iron grip. Breaths quickened in your chest, panting as you looked at the abject fear beginning to creep into Loki’s eyes. The gazes of a hundred confused spectators became nothing but a blur, their mutters fading. You stilled, letting your hand become limp. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Suddenly, you lunged towards him - hooking your free arm around his shoulders. Loki swallowed a gasp as your lips met his with force, a low sigh breathing into your mouth as he melted into you. The god’s hands travelled to your ass, hoisting you around his hips as his tongue massaged your own with wild intensity. A palm slid up your back, winding in your hair as he pushed your face roughly to his. You could hear the PG-curses of Rogers as he frantically hoisted the stage curtains closed, his inane blustering audible over the gasps of intrigue from the crowd beyond. Loki’s feral kisses had moved to your neck, the desperate adrenaline coursing through him as he devoured your soft skin in messy sucks. You found your fingers curling in his lengths, pulling his head back gently. Just like the old days, you thought with a thrill. He frowned, panting. Loki wet his lips, preparing to speak before you covered his mouth with a flat palm. “I love you too, you infuriating whatever-you-are.” you enunciated slowly, lips feeling heavy with the force of his affections. The god’s brows slanted, deep lines appearing in his forehead as he shook his head from side to side; making your hand slip away. “Truly?” he growled incredulously, peering up through ebony lashes. “Truly.” you whispered, watching a smile as radiant as an April sunrise creep slowly across his face. “What happened to ‘I know you love me, Agent’…” you coyed, impersonating the timbre of his voice as he lowered you to the ground. His arms wound around your waist, pulling you flush to his bare chest. “Knowing and feeling are two different things, Agent.” he purred, before placing a languishing kiss on your forehead. “What would be the point in your love for me...” he murmured, muffled against the skin, “if you did not believe it yourself?” There was silence as Loki’s fingertip tenderly grazed your collarbone, steady breaths rising and falling between you as he nuzzled into your temple with a low sigh. You opened your eyes over Loki’s shoulder. “Oh – shit, what about her?” you groaned, giving a small, awkward wave to Amanda several meters away. That’s weird, you thought; frowning. She’s smiling. Smiling like...
Loki’s hand rose, a click of his fingers making the emerald skirts of Amanda’s dress begin to smoulder with bright green flame. “My brother owed me quite a few favours, Agent…” he murmured apologetically with a smile against your cheek.
Your eyes widened as a bulky frame peeled into view behind the mirage of Loki’s magic. But the grin – the grin was still the same. Thor flicked his hair, running his palms down his torso. “That’s better.” he rumbled, throwing you a wink. “Sorry about that…” he chuckled. “Motivation was required, apparently.” He folded his meaty forearms. “I still think you’re mad for being in love with him, by the way. But there’s no accounting for taste.” “You better not have started another Oath of Most Ass-yoor-red Recompense scenario.” you muttered dryly to your dark-haired lover, making another smile stretch across his face. He pulled you tight. “No, darling. This was purely fraternal reparations. Isn’t that right, brother?” he growled. “I have been reliably informed that I have been, what you call, a dick-head.” Thor grumbled penitently, scuffing his foot on the floor. “Indeed.” Loki hummed coldly, before his voice softened. “But tonight has gone some way to mending said wrongdoings. Along with your agreed donation to the orphan-fund, naturally.” “Naturally.” Thor grumbled, averting his eyes. Loki’s fingers toyed with the shell of your ear, the tips exploring the angle of your jaw lightly as if for the first time. “I believe that we should..talk? As is the custom I believe? If you’ll permit it.” You nodded, giddy disbelief still coursing through your veins. “As long as it’s not in this fucking ballroom.” you scoffed, before squealing as Loki gathered you effortlessly against his chest bridal style. “Gods, no.” Loki purred, capturing your lips in a wet kiss before his tantalisingly moist lips grazed your ear. “I think it’s time you finally saw my chambers, Agent -don’t you?”
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Continued in Final Bids: Love Wins Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection
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gigglingtiggerv2 · 6 months
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Chapter Four: Tender loving care
Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character (Neurodivergent)
Warnings / Tags: Jealousy / Teasing / unsolicited dick pics / Humour / Mild smut / Slow burn / detachable penises
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 2.5k
Summary: Lex is left penis-sitting as Loki departs for Asgard
(A/N - My eternal thanks to @lokisgoodgirl and her incredible photo-shop skills, which created the ultimate dick pic. Miraculously, one we might all be happy to receive!)
Chapter List
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Later, in the Avengers' Tower
Loki’s final preparations passed in a blur and before she’d had the chance to fully process everything which had happened, Lex found herself alone in the bedroom, the giant Sigil of Asgard burned into the carpet in front of her and the princely penis lying heavy in her arms.
The remaining part of Loki had twitched violently as its owner departed but seemed to recover almost immediately and was now nudging hopefully at Lex’s cleavage as she stared into space.
As the prodding grew more insistent she gave a sigh and tried to decide what to do with her uninvited house guest.  Lex had never owned a pet, more importantly she’d never wanted a pet and now found the weight of responsibility sitting heavily on her shoulders.
“What am I going to do with you?”  
Despite the question being entirely rhetorical, the penis nuzzled harder, clearly eager to steer the conversation towards the bed behind them. 
Lex gave a wry smile.  “Nice try, sunshine.”  She frowned, sunshine seemed an entirely inappropriate nickname, since he was clearly happiest ‘where the sun don’t shine’, but she found the idea of calling him ‘Loki’s dismembered penis’ far more disturbing.  
He needed a name.  Mini Mischief sounded like a cartoon character and The Royal Prick sounded rude.  She gave a sigh.  “I shall call thee Richard,” she said, “because we both know you’re going to be an enormous dick, in all senses of the word.”
Lex groaned as she got to her feet.  It has been a brutal day and all she wanted to do was sleep.
“I think we can forgo the royal bathtime for one evening,” she said,  “I’m sure he took care of that before he left.  So we just need to decide where you’re going to spend the night.”
Richard made another concerted effort to peer past her arm towards the canopied bed but Lex forstalled any arguments with a snap of her fingers.  “I know the perfect spot!” she said, opening her underwear drawer and placing him carefully on a pile of lace and satin lingerie.  “You’re always keen to get in my knickers, now you can spend the whole night there.”
Careful to leave an inch gap as she pushed it closed, there was an audible thump from the depths of the cabinet and the sound of disgruntled rummaging.
Lex sighed, it was going to be a long night.  As the noise levels of the mini tantrum increased until they began to reverberate through the room she rapped sharply on the side of the cabinet.  “Pack it in, or I’ll close the drawer fully!”
She knew she was imagining it, but was almost certain she heard Richard huff in response, but he did, at least, fall silent.
After a restless night in which Lex tried to get comfortable in a bed that had clearly been designed for someone twice her size, she was roused by a loud knocking at her door.  Fumbling for her glasses, she pulled on a robe and found Thor waiting in the corridor outside.
Thor leaned against the wall opposite and gave her an encouraging smile.
“I thought I’d stop by and see how you were feeling this morning,” he said, “did you sleep well?”
Ushering him inside, Lex found the bright lie she’d been trying to summon dying on her lips at the soft look of understanding in his eyes and instead she gestured to the rumpled bed.  “About as well as you’d expect,” she admitted.  “It’s an awfully big bed when there’s only one person in it.  And everything in here smells of Loki, so I just miss him all the more.”
There was the sound of scuffling and before Lex could slam the drawer closed, Richard peered over the top.  
Thor gave a grunt of recognition. “But I see Loki left his best part behind to keep you company,” he said.
Lex blinked in surprise.  “You recognise him?”
“I should think so,” Thor replied, “Loki left it lying in wait for me in my chambers enough times when we were growing up.”  He gave a shudder at the memory.
“Oh… so he does this a lot?” For some reason, Lex felt disappointed.
“Not like this,” Thor said, a frown creasing his normally sunny expression.  “In truth, I’ve never known him let it out of his sight before.  When he was using it to torment me, he would always be hiding in a closet nearby, just in case I decided to take a hammer to his intimate parts.”
Feeling slightly cheered, Lex smiled, “Oh!”
“He must trust you very much.”
Lex felt a sudden stab of guilt at how she’d been ignoring her unexpected visitor and resolved in that moment to do better.
An hour and half later, having attempted to follow Loki’s neat instructions to the letter, Lex wrapped Richard in a large warm towel and gently patted any remaining moisture away.  His head peaked out the top and she suppressed a giggle.
“You look like you’re cos-playing a Sith Lord…” she trailed off as an idea occurred to her.  “Come on,” she said, grabbing a large square of silk that Loki had given her which she had no idea how to wear and carefully bundled Richard into her backpack.  “Field trip!”
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In the Labs
“Whatcha doing?” Tony asked, leaning over her shoulder and peering at the small piece of gold coloured metal she was soldering.
“Oh, you know, keeping busy,” Lex replied, hunching further over her bench to hide what she was working on.  But Tony would not be diverted.
“Is that a miniature of Loki’s Helm?” he asked.
Lex grunted, and then yelped as he snatched the tiny, horned helmet from her fingers. “Hey! I was working on that!”
“This is really good!” Tony said, the surprise clear in his tone.  “Maybe we should do a line of Avenger’s collectables?  We could do a helmet for me, this helm for Loki, a hammer for Thor and then there’s Steve’s shield, Bucky’s arm….  I’ll talk to my factory in South America -  if we can get the prototypes to them by the end of the week, we might be able to get these into shops in time for Christmas.
Lex muttered something non-committal as she reclaimed her craft project and got to her feet, clutching the miniature replica of Loki’s helm so tightly, the horns dug into the palm of her hand.
Back in her rooms, she recovered ‘Richard’ from where he lay swaddled in her rucksack and placed him on the desk.  Once she’d petted him a few times to ensure he’d stopped sulking and  was standing to full attention, she produced the tiny helm and accompanying green cloak.
“Now hold still…I don’t want the glue to get anywhere it shouldn’t….”
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On Asgard….
Loki was readying himself for the state banquet, when his hands suddenly jerked to a halt and his eyes flew wide.  What in the Nine was she doing? he asked himself with a wince.  It felt like his most treasured possession was currently placed in a vise - sharp edges of metal digging into the delicate skin.
He was already aware that Lex had taken several shortcuts with the recommended ablutions, but he couldn’t believe she would stoop so low as to actually cause harm to such a vulnerable and treasured part of himself.
Fishing his cell phone he stabbed at the keypad and sent a terse message.
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Meanwhile, back in the Avengers' Tower
Half an hour later, hands shaking so hard from giggling so much that it took three attempts to draw the firm line of Loki’s mouth with a fine sharpie, Lex sat back on her heels and admired her handiwork.
She’d definitely captured a certain mood.  The helm, the cloak, the smirk.  Alright, the menacing effect was somewhat spoiled by the googly-eyes, but overall, it had far exceeded her expectations.
Her phone pinged and Lex swiped into the message center.
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Tapping her fingers on the desk, Lex eyed her creation thoughtfully.  The activity had merely been a way to pass the time, she had never intended to share her creativity with anyone, least of all Loki.  But damn!  Richard looked good!  And she’d put a lot of work into that outfit: it would be a shame if she was the only one to see it.
She mentally weighed exactly how pissed off Loki would be -  on a sliding scale from ‘Oh Oh OHHHHHH’ to ‘OW OW OW!!’  On one hand, he would undoubtedly take it as a massive insult to his Royal Personage, which probably meant  the more ‘OW’ end of that spectrum, but there was a chance he’d be annoyed enough to call his trip short to deal with her insubordination immediately.
That would definitely be worth the risk of not being able to sit down for a few days, she decided.
She picked up her phone and tapped into the camera app.  Once she’d adjusted the lighting from the desk lamp she waved an encouraging hand at Richard.
“Time for your close up!  Tilt your head back a bit for me, and find your light.  That’s it… now imagine it’s your coronation, the whole of Asgard gathered to see you in all your finery…. The assembled throng slowly sinking to their knees before you…. and …. THRUST!”
Before she could change her mind, Lex sent the resulting image to Loki and chewed on a fingernail, awaiting his response.
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Seconds later her phone vibrated as multiple messages arrived almost one on top of each other, the outrage growing with each missive.  Knowing that she remained perfectly safe while his wrath was contained in another realm, Lex waited until he’d worked himself into a state of incensed fury and then typed.
“How about I just kiss it better?”
There was a long silence, during which Lex was starting to wonder if he’d thrown his cell phone out the window, and then finally he replied.
“That would be a good place to start.”
With careful fingers, Lex removed the tiny helm and kissed the small indentations it had left in the skin.  Next she peeled away the googly-eyes and gently kissed each revealed patch.
The cloak had only been held on with some double-sided tape but she ran her tongue over the abused area, to ensure there was no glue left behind.  Satisfied that Richard was restored to his natural, pristine state and was not suffering from any ill-effects due to the impromptu dressing-up session, she picked up her phone once again.
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Lex stared at her phone, feeling her good mood fading fast.  “You wouldn’t have to call me later, if you’d invited me along,” she muttered, “or if you’d just stayed here in the first place.”
She cocked her head towards Richard.  “How long do these banquetty things usually last?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug.
Lex rubbed her nose.  “But long enough for us to… perhaps enjoy a nice warm bubble bath, yes?”
Richard nodded so hard he nearly fell off the desk.
Humming happily to herself, Lex swept him into her arms and headed for the bathroom.
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Back on Asgard
Seated at the head of the table, Loki was aware of all eyes on him and his intended.  For her part, Grenalda seemed to welcome the attention, but he was struggling to keep the boredom from his face.  More than once his mother had kicked him sharply under the table as a warning to reset his expression.
Suddenly he stiffened  - or at least the absent part of himself did so.  Loki felt the blissful sensation of his most treasured possession being slowly immersed in a warm bath.  He could feel everything: the bubbles sliding over his crown and bursting gently against his shaft, the movement of the water and… oh by the Norns, he could feel warm skin cushioning him from beneath.
Lex had joined him in the bathing ritual!!
Now he had no trouble assuming the rapturous expression his mother required.  Although he had to steel himself not to cry out as he felt a warm, wet mouth sliding over his glands and taking him to the hilt.  A shudder of pure pleasure ran through his limbs as his crown hit the back of her throat she swallowed around him.
Loki prided himself on his focus and ability to make meaningless small talk even when distracted.  But he and Lex had spent much time working on both her technique and her stamina and he steadily felt his control eroding, one lick at a time.
As his impending orgasm roared through his veins, he tightened his grip on the tablecloth and fixed his expression as one of deep thought.  But he couldn’t stop his hips from flexing a little as, far away, he felt his balls tightening.  
This was it he thought, a grin stretching across his face as he closed his eyes in anticipation of that singular, glorious moment surging towards him from another realm… 
And then….
And then…
And then…
Nothing…  
The longed for climax remained tantalizingly close, but still out of reach.
Half an hour later his smile of satisfaction had become a grimace of discomfort.  No matter how painful his arousal, or how hard he tried to focus on the sensations created by Lex’s talented mouth, his climax remained stubbornly elusive.
Belatedly it occurred to him that he should, perhaps, have done a more thorough investigation into the effects of dismemberment, before entrusting his trusty spear into the hands of another.
As he felt Lex’s teeth scrap over the now highly sensitized glands of his cock, he could not hold back a whimper.
“Are you quite alright, my dear?” his mother asked, genuine concern in her eyes.
Loki came to a snap decision and jumped to his feet, “If you will all forgive me, there is something to which I must attend.”  With that, he threw down his napkin and all but sprinted from the Great Hall.
Once safely back in his quarters he fumbled for his phone, his shaking fingers barely able to access the message app let alone type anything coherent into it.  He took several calming breaths and tried again.
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Loki gritted his teeth as he waited for her to receive and read his message.  Lex would understand, he told himself, she wouldn’t deliberately torture him, she was the kindest, most thoughtful person he knew.  
Norns below!!!  Why was the evil harlot still stroking him???
He collapsed back, sliding down the wall as his legs gave out.  His phone pinged once more and he pulled it towards him with a shaking hand. 
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Her message confirmed his worst fears, but he lacked the thought or co-ordination to type more than a few abject words, begging for her mercy. 
Curled into a fetal position he heard his cell chime again and again but could barely raise his head to read her responses.
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Eyes closed he let the blasted device slip from twitching fingers and surrendered to the effects of what he was increasingly sure would turn out to be the worst mistake of his life.
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Next Chapter
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