Not Exactly A Secret

Me when the fam has size difference

talking in your sleep pt 2

Summary: You wake up 14 hours after your Melatonin-aided much needed sleep and face the aftermath of your confession to Loki. A confession you believed was a dream.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: implied smut, Loki being hot (not sure if this needs to be a warning but it's there), mild angst (?) [let me know if i missed anything!]

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that it was dark outside. You'd slept the day away. Maybe even more. But you felt rested, fully energized, ready to go back to your office and face the behemoth that was the security system of the Ten Rings.

Just as you were about to stand up and head back to said office, you vaguely remembered Tony's words about not wanting to see you in your office for the next seven days. That was when you noticed the next thing. This wasn't your home. You didn't even remember leaving the tower. But you did remember bits and pieces of a conversation between Loki and Natasha arguing about whose room you would sleep in.

"FRIDAY?" you called out into the dark empty space. 

"Yes, Miss Y/L/N?" the AI answered. 

"Could you tell me what day it is, how long I've been asleep, and then turn the lights on at 50%?" 

"Certainly, Miss Y/L/N. It's Friday, the 16th, and you were asleep for fourteen hours. Turning on lights at 50% brightness." As light slowly filled the room, you took note of your surroundings. The neatly organized shelves, the helmets hung on the walls, the emerald green bedspread that was an almost exact match to the clothes you were wearing.

You groaned. "I'm in Loki's room?" 

"Indeed you are, Miss Y/L/N. And I've been instructed by Mister Laufeyson to tell you to meet him at the kitchen when you wake. Will that be all?" 

"Yes, FRIDAY, that will be all. Thank you." You took a look around the room, trying to remember anything more than fleeting moments of the last two hours before you fell asleep, to no avail. So you decided instead to follow FRIDAY's words and make your way down to the kitchen to meet Loki. 

Once you reached the bottom of the stairs, you noticed that the tower was strangely quiet for a Friday night. "Lo?" you called out into the quiet space, your voice echoing from the walls.

"In here, darling," you heard him call out. When you walked into the kitchen, you had to catch yourself at the sight of him wearing only a pair of green silk pajama bottoms, a match to the sheets upstairs. You willed your eyes not to roam, not to appreciate his literal godly form, to keep them trained on his face. Big mistake, because once he turned around and his eyes met yours, a devilish smirk crossed his features and his eyes roamed your form. "You are quite the beguiling sight in my colors, dear Y/N. I may have to tell Romanoff she's not getting those clothes back." 

"You plan on keeping them for yourself?" you quipped, trying your best not to let his gaze affect you. But then he set the plate in his hand down and made his way over to you, crowding your space. 

"You have your wits about you again. That's good," he said in a low almost whisper. "You should tell her you're keeping this for yourself." His tone was almost authoritative, as if he wasn't giving you room to protest. You suddenly get flashbacks of him declaring that you would stay with him while you slept in that same tone. Except this time there was a softness to his words, like he was trying to wrap you in them, in his presence. 

It's like he's seducing me, you thought to yourself. But there's no way; you're being delusional, Y/N. Of course you were. He didn't see you that way. He never would. 

You struggled to compose yourself. "I thought you had a thing against people wearing your colors." 

You felt your heartbeat at your fingertips as you watched him raise his hand and slid his finger under and along the strap of your camisole. "Perhaps under the correct circumstances, I would be willing to share." And then he looked at you through his lashes and you could've sworn your heart stopped beating altogether. 

The way you saw it, there were two options. Keep the flirty banter going and see how far he'd take it, or stop it where it stood and play it off like a joke between friends. You didn't trust yourself not to get hurt with the first choice. "Pssh," you chuckled. "You know for a second there, Lo, I could've sworn you were flirting." And you gently nudged his hand away and sat down on a stool  by the kitchen island. "Where is everybody, by the way?" 

"They went out to one of Stark's many clubs to intoxicate themselves on inferior ale and gyrate all over strangers they will cease to remember by morning. Maximoff left that out for you and told me to make sure you ate it once you woke up." 

"Why didn't you go with them?" 

"Nothing in that image fit my rendition of an enjoyable time, darling. And there are far more important things to attend to." 

"Such as?"

"Ensuring that someone I care for is taken care of after she endangered herself the way she did this week." There was no mischief in his eyes as he said the words, as he stared into yours, like he was trying to see into your soul. "Y/N, swear to me you'll never be that reckless again. When you nearly fell earlier…" He seemed to fight back his sentiment.

You placed your hand over his. "I promise," you said softly. "I just forgot--"

"You cannot afford to forget these things, Y/N." His voice sounded almost desperate. Then he took a deep breath. "I don't want to live in a world bereft of you a day sooner than I absolutely have to. I do not wish to even contemplate that world, do you understand?" You had no words, no witty comebacks, no jokes, nothing. All you could do was nod as he held on to your free hand, returning your nod as he raised your joint hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. He then let go and motioned to the plate of pasta in front of you. "Eat, darling." 

You did your best to focus the next several minutes solely on finishing your plate, rather than allowing your mind to wander in the direction of the smoldering shirtless god standing by the counter pretending to leaf through a book, when in reality he was watching your every movement. 

Once you were finally done he ceased his charade and walked over to place himself behind your seat. You visibly stilled as you felt him reach from behind you to slide your plate over to the side, and then proceeding to lean over and rest his chin on your shoulder. 

"What’s up?" You did your best to sound casual. He wasn’t ever like this with you. Whatever this was. So to have him behaving like this now? It was jarring, that was for sure. 

"Did you know you talked in your sleep, dear Y/N?" Your breathing hitched as you both felt and heard his words, what with him having his lips so dangerously close to your ear. The effects he and that absolutely sinful voice of his had on you felt like they were magnified. Tenfold. 

You took a deep, slow breath, trying to find your footing, finally taking notice of how he’d placed his hands on the marble top, effectively trapping you between him and the kitchen counter. You let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Nice try, Lo. I know I don't." You made a motion as if to step off your seat, but his next motions kept you right where you were, as you watched his his forearms flex ever so slightly and he stepped even closer to you and you felt his chest pressing against your upper back. It was clear the message he was trying to send across to you. Don't move an inch.

"That may be so," he started speaking again. He let go of the island and proceeded to sweep your hair over your shoulder with one hand and wrapped his other arm loosely around your waist. "But you say the most interesting things when you're under the influence of that medication, in the moments before you succumbed to its full effects." 

Your blood ran cold as you got flashbacks of the most wonderful dream. You were laying in bed, in Loki's arms, as he asked you if you were his. And you told him you were and that you were defenseless against his perfection, that you fell in love with him. Such a damn shame you don't feel the same way. 

"That wasn't a dream," you whispered, barely even able to breathe properly as you felt his nose tracing along the length of your exposed neck. "You know." You were doing your best to choke back the sob that threatened to escape you. 

"I do." 

"I'm sorry." Your voice was barely audible. Any louder and you were sure to be a sobbing mess in his arms.

"What ever for, darling?" His words came out so softly, so lovingly, with just a hint of longing. But surely you were imagining it. Right? "You've done nothing wrong."

"I don't know," you whispered, on the verge of hysterics. "I just feel like I should be apologizing for something." And then another flashback. A dream – no, a memory – of you pressing your lips to his neck right before everything went black. Your breath hitched. "I'm sorry I kissed you."

"Don't be, my precious girl," he crooned. "I quite enjoyed it. The feel of your soft, luscious lips on my skin. It was as if the universe stopped; I wanted it to. I wanted that fleeting moment to go on for eternity." What? "The only thing I did not enjoy was you succumbing to slumber before I could return the favor." Oh, you were sure you stopped breathing now. Was he really saying what you think he was saying? "No matter. You're awake now."

You went near frigid in his hold as you felt him press his lips softly to your skin, and he let out an audible exhale that felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. If you thought he would stop at one, you were adorably naive.

He proceeded to press kiss after kiss to your skin, each getting less chaste, more frantic. You began to question if you were still dreaming, but feeling the edges of the stool you gripped so tightly in your hands digging into your palms told you you most definitely were not. This was real. This was all real. 

"Relax, darling," he whispered into your skin before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. You could've sworn your heart stopped beating the moment you felt his tongue flick against your skin. His hold on you tightened so slightly as he moved his lips to your jaw. "You have nothing to fear. You've done nothing wrong, my little mortal." His lips moved closer to yours, stopping at the corner of your mouth and pressing a kiss there. "All you've done is the impossible." 

"Which is?" you breathed out, surprised there was any air in your lungs at all after receiving this kind of attention from him. You never thought he would; you often forbid yourself to even dream it. You wouldn't dare, because even in your dreams where you were undoubtedly the best version of yourself, even there you never saw yourself worthy of him.

"I won't tell you until you relax, dear Y/N," he teased, his lips moving against your skin, so tantalizingly close to your lips. "Let go of the breath you're holding and lean in to me." 

"I'll fall." 

"You won't. I'm here. You're safe with me. You always have been." That did you in and finally you slowly felt yourself loosening your grip on your seat, exhaling and doing exactly what he asked, leaning against him. "Good girl," he murmured, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, gently tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. "All you've done is love me. As I've loved you." 

Before you could respond, he captured your lips with his in a kiss that was heated but held such restraint, as if he was still testing the waters with you. Your heart felt like it was soaring as you started to wrap your head around what was happening, as if a fire was ignited in you that warmed your entire body. 

When he pulled away from you, you immediately felt the loss, craving his kiss once more. If you'd thought you were intoxicated by being in his presence before, you were downright drunk on it now. Addicted, even. "Oh, my love. My darling Y/N. It seems one taste of you and I've become insatiable." The feeling's mutual, you thought to yourself, unable to form words. There was that word again. Love. He turned you around in your seat so that you were facing him. "Look at me." You tilted your head up to look into his steel blue eyes, your breath hitching as you saw all the emotions swimming in them. "I want you to say it. Say the words that made me whole. I want to gaze upon your ethereal perfection as you say it. Please, Y/N." 

You took a breath, and the words spilled out of you, as if you couldn't say them fast enough. "I love you, Loki Laufeyson." 

You watched as the brightest smile lit up his face before he leaned in to kiss you again. "I love you, Y/N Y/L/N." He lifted you into his arms and you wrapped your legs around him, as if by instinct. Like you were meant to do this. Made for it, even. "The only damned shame is that we failed to tell each other sooner. I could have had you so much sooner." 

He began to walk you back up the stairs when the elevator doors dinged and opened to reveal Tony and the rest of the team coming back. He took one look at the two of you and blurted out, "I don't even wanna know. I'll see you the week after next, Y/N." 

"Keep the clothes, Y/N," Natasha hollered. "Suits you better anyway." 

You couldn't be bothered to respond, not like you could anyway. Your lips were otherwise occupied. So you gave a half-hearted thumbs up and waved goodbye at the team watching what was transpiring from the common area. 

"Well it's about goddamn time," you heard Wilson boom from the doors. "So who had money on tonight?" 

"I did," you heard Wanda answer him. "I told you all to never bet against me, but none of you listened. And now I'm rich. Should I silence Loki's room?" You didn't hear the response. You didn't care.

You faintly heard a door closing before you felt your back hit the silken sheets of his bed. "I must remember to thank Stark for giving you a week away from your duties," he murmured as he pressed kisses to your jaw and neck. "We have an abundance of lost time to make up for, my love." 

"Everyone knows exactly what's happening right now," you gasped out, your filter going completely out the window once again.

He pressed a kiss above your heart before looking up at you through his lashes. "Does that bother you? That they know?" 

A devious smirk graced your lips as you coyly shook your head. "Not really, no." 

A/N: Does this still count as fluff? I don't know anymore lol

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @redbluekjw @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @ficitve-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446

was reading through a fic on here that felt…off? in its writing, but was otherwise an interesting story. until i got to later in the story and the person forgot to erase the AI prompt response.

i’d literally rather your writing be shitty and barely there than using AI to write. at least then i know you had the heart.

i will never consent to AI being used on my writing nor will i ever use it. good fucking grief.

Oka soo I dare to send in a Bucky imagine <3 Maybe one where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good enough for him even though he always makes you feel special and he loves you more than anything. One time while he's at a mission, you're back at the compound waiting for him, but then also Sharon comes up to you being a bitch again and makes you feel even more unwanted and leave before Bucky returns. Later then he's happily waiting to see you, but frowns when he finds out you're not there. So he calls you, asking you to come over and you reluctantly agree. As you finally confront him with your doubts he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you also his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then and also some soft smut where he tells you how much he loves you ? ♥️

Here we go! Here's our boy making everything better when the doubts creep in and we can shut it down on your own. Title: Yours to Keep

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x SHIELD Analyst!Female Reader

Summary: You feel like your not enough, and when Sharon gets in your head it makes it so much worse. But to Bucky you’re the reason to make it home.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Insecurity, emotional manipulation (from Sharon because she's a mean girl), soft possessiveness, smut, unprotected sex, established relationship, oral (f- receviving), praise, dog tag kink, Angst with Fluff, Romance.

A/N: Something softer for everyone this weekend. Thank you for the ask @wintersoldierchronicles

The compound was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that seeped into your skin and clung to you like static. You sat curled into one of the deep leather chairs in the lounge, knees tucked beneath you, a tablet in your lap. The screen glowed softly, lines of mission data scrolling as you half-heartedly skimmed them, reading intel you’d collected yourself over the past few days. Every enemy movement tracked. Every building layout mapped. Every communication protocol updated and tested.

All to help keep the Avengers safe. To keep him safe.

You should’ve felt accomplished. Proud. Instead, you felt like a ghost in your own home.

No one had said anything, not directly. But they didn’t have to. The looks, the nods you didn’t get in the hallway, the way everyone seemed to talk around you instead of to you. It all added up. They were Avengers. Legends. Gods. And you were… what? Just the analyst who happened to be dating one of them. An ordinary woman in love with an extraordinary man.

And somehow, no matter how often Bucky looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, the thought kept crawling back up your throat like bile: You’re not good enough for him.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to focus, tried to chase away the fog settling over your mind. But it was no use. The feeling had been a quiet whisper in the dark for months now, and lately… it was starting to scream.

You had seen the way people looked at Bucky- like he was a living monument to strength and survival. A relic of history wrapped in modern muscle and trauma, wearing his past like armour. People admired him. Revered him. And yet, he came home to you. You, who shuffled files and ran analyses. Who flinched when the training team sparred too close to your desk. Who once got winded jogging down the corridor when your badge lanyard snagged on a doorknob.

What could he possibly see in you that someone like Sharon, like Natasha, couldn’t offer in a more fitting package?

Footsteps echoed lightly down the corridor, the sharp click of designer boots hitting the polished floor like a countdown. You didn’t even need to lift your eyes. That cadence was familiar, the kind that always made your stomach twist with a mixture of dread and forced politeness.

Then came the voice. Smooth. Sweet. Laced with superiority.

“Still here?” Sharon Carter stepped into view, her tone dipped in passive-aggressive honey. She was perfectly made-up, of course, with not a single hair out of place, her sleek suit hugging her figure in all the ways that made people notice when she walked into a room.

She looked you up and down like you were something out of place, something small, insignificant. “Thought they kept the admin staff in the basement.”

It was a joke, probably. One of those faux-friendly jabs that everyone was supposed to laugh at. Except she wasn’t smiling. Not really.

You fought to keep your expression neutral, fingers tightening slightly around the tablet in your lap. You weren’t going to let her see how deep that cut went, not when she was already poised to twist the knife.

You gave her a polite nod, trying not to let your discomfort show. “Just going over the post-mission data. They’re due back in an hour.”

"Must be hard. Being with someone like Bucky." Sharon's smile was the kind that never quite reached her eyes.

“What do you mean?” You stiffened, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the tablet.

She stepped closer, arms folded casually like this was just idle chatter.

"I mean- he’s one of us. Field-ready. Weapon-trained. A living legend. And you… well, you make great coffee."

You swallowed hard. "I do more than-"

"I know," she said quickly, with that same dismissive tilt of her head. "You’re smart. Very behind-the-scenes. Essential in your own way, I suppose. But let’s be honest…Bucky’s built for war. He needs someone who understands that. Who can keep up. Who can be more than just a comfort waiting at home."

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, each word driving in like a nail. It was everything you'd feared, laid out in someone else’s voice. Someone who was supposed to be on your side.

"He probably misses someone who can actually stand beside him out there," Sharon added with a shrug. "You know… someone who belongs."

The tablet in your hands blurred as tears threatened. You blinked hard and forced yourself to breathe through your nose.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because if you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure whether you’d scream or sob.

So you just stood, quickly and quietly, and walked away- shoulders stiff, throat tight, eyes stinging. You had to get out of there before someone saw you fall apart.

You left the compound entirely, slipping out the back entrance and taking the long way home. Your mind ran in circles the whole walk. What if Sharon was right? What if everyone had just been too polite to say it out loud? What if the only reason Bucky was with you was because you were safe? Easy? A soft landing after years of running and pain?

~#~#~#~#~#~

Bucky came back two hours later, bruised and sweaty but grinning. The mission had been long, much longer than expected. But successful at least. He was covered in dirt and grime, dried blood flecked across one temple, the strap of his weapons bag cutting into his shoulder. His muscles ached, and the adrenaline had long since worn off, but one thing kept him upright, kept him moving: you. The thought of you waiting at the compound, probably curled up with your tablet and a warm drink, maybe looking up every time the door slid open- yeah, that thought had gotten him through worse days than this.

He slung his weapons bag over one shoulder, still covered in dirt and dust from the mission, and scanned the lounge immediately.

“Hey, Sam,” he called. “She around?”

Sam looked up from his protein bar, brow furrowing slightly. “She left a while ago. Didn’t say much. Looked kinda off, though.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened. “Off how?”

Sam stood, tossing the wrapper aside. “I dunno, man. Quiet. Real quiet. Didn’t even look me in the eye. Thought maybe she was just tired, but now…” He trailed off, reading the worry blooming on Bucky’s face.

“You think something happened?” Bucky asked.

Sam gave a slow nod. “Could be nothing. But you know her better than anyone. If it’s not nothing- you’ll fix it.”

Bucky’s heart dropped. Something was wrong. You always met him after missions. Always.

Without another word, he turned and pulled his phone out of his pocket, hand still a little bloodied. ~#~#~#~#~#~

You pulled your car over to the side of the road, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound breaking through your spiralling thoughts. You hadn’t made it home. It felt too far. Too final. The space inside your car was tight, suffocating, but it was still safer than walking through the front door like nothing was wrong.

The phone vibrated in your hand again, lighting up with his name.

You stared down at the caller ID like it was a bomb about to go off. You didn’t answer right away. How could you? How could you speak to him when all you wanted to do was disappear?

You were a coward. That much was clear. Running off like that, not even saying goodbye. You should’ve stayed. Faced it. Faced her. But the words Sharon had said... they hadn’t been new. They were just the same cruel thoughts you’d had about yourself, dressed up in someone else’s voice.

You weren’t right for someone like Bucky.

You were just an analyst. A desk jockey. A tagalong to the world of gods and heroes.

And he was... everything.

He was strength and legend and pain and hope, all wrapped up in that scarred, steady way he looked at you like you were worth the whole damn universe. And you? You couldn’t even look yourself in the mirror right now.

The phone buzzed again.

Guilt stabbed through your chest.

He’d just come off a mission. He was probably still aching, tired, maybe even hurt—and here you were, making it all about you. Selfish. So unlike him. He always made you feel like the only girl in the room. One look from him and the world melted away.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes, and finally picked up.

“Hey,” you said, voice too quiet.

“Doll, where are you?” he asked, voice already softening. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just… needed some air.”

There was a pause.

“You lying to me, sweetheart?” he said gently.

You closed your eyes. He knew you.

“No.”

Another pause. “Come back to the compound. Please. I need to see you. You're scaring me.”

Your chest cracked open. He sounded so… real. So Bucky. You found yourself nodding, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay,” you whispered.

~#~#~#~#~#~

He was already waiting by the elevator when you arrived, walking slow, tense loops with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line, the lines around his eyes carved deeper than usual. Every few seconds, his gaze darted toward the entrance, like he couldn’t help but check again, hoping- needing- you to appear.

The moment his eyes landed on you, he stopped dead. Everything in him just stilled. Relief hit him like a wave, shoulders dropping, hands unclenching—but his expression didn’t ease completely. No, his eyes stayed cautious, flickering across your face like he was afraid one wrong move might send you running. Like you were something breakable he didn’t dare press too hard.

He didn’t speak. Just opened his arms.

You tried to fake a smile, to smooth the cracks in your mask. But it was shaky, barely there, and he saw right through it. You saw the flicker of sadness in his eyes at the attempt.

You stepped into his embrace slowly, almost shyly, as if uncertain you still deserved it. The moment your body met his, the dam inside you cracked.

You buried your face in his chest, exhaling like you’d been holding your breath since you left the compound.

“Hey,” he murmured into your hair, voice rough with emotion. “There’s my girl.”

You clung to him, fingers twisting in his shirt like you were afraid he’d vanish, afraid this was all a dream that would dissolve when you let go.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked eventually, drawing back just enough to look into your face. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, like he wanted to catch the remnants of that broken smile.

You looked up at him, eyes glassy and aching. “You’re Bucky Barnes. You’re an Avenger. A war hero. And I… I sit at a desk.”

“Stop,” he said instantly, thumb now tracing your cheekbone like he could wipe the pain away.

“I don’t fight aliens. I don’t have powers. I’m just… support staff.” Your voice wavered, trembling like your heart might break in two right there in front of him. “Sharon said you’d get bored of me. That you’ll want someone who can stand beside you in the field.”

His jaw tensed like he’d been struck. A flicker of something dark and cold passed through his expression, steel sharp and silent. His entire body went still.

“She said what?” he asked, voice low and dangerous, but even as the fury gathered behind his eyes, he didn’t let it take hold. He inhaled slowly, grounding himself. Because right now, you were what mattered.

You looked down, ashamed. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not wrong.”

There was a pause. Not long. Just the space of a heartbeat and then the weight of metal settled into your palm with a soft metallic clink.

“Look at me,” he said, voice low but unwavering.

You looked up, surprised by the intensity in his gaze.

“You see these?”

You nodded.

“These?” he said again, his voice thick with meaning as the tags clinked quietly between you. “These don’t just mean soldier. They mean survivor. They mean second chances. They mean you, okay? I don’t give these to anyone. I want you to have them.”

You stared at them, too stunned to speak, too overwhelmed to breathe. They were warm from his skin. Heavy with meaning.

He cupped your face gently, both hands trembling slightly now.

“You’re not support staff. You’re the person I come home to. My person. You keep me grounded. You’re the one thing that’s real.”

Your lips trembled, voice caught in your throat. “Bucky…”

He leaned down, voice husky and sure. “Put them on. Right now.”

You slipped the dog tags around your neck, hands shaking, heart pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears.

“There,” he said, eyes gleaming- not with pride, but with something softer. Fierce, unyielding love. “Now everyone knows. You’re mine. Forever.”

~#~#~#~#~#~

In the hallway, without a word, he scooped you up into his arms. Not rushed. Just worshipful, like you were something sacred he’d been aching to hold all day. You wrapped your arms around his neck, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder as he carried you, his footsteps steady and full of purpose, all the way to his room. Every step was careful, intentional, his hold firm but gentle, like he wanted to shield you from everything that had hurt you today.

He kissed your forehead as he laid you back on the bed, then your cheeks, your jaw, each press of his lips like a vow.

“So beautiful… so smart…” he murmured with each kiss. “Couldn’t do any of this without you.”

His soft kisses pressing into your cheeks, the corners of your mouth. 

“You’re everything to me,” he said, pulling your shirt over your head. “Every breath, every second.”

His mouth moved to your collarbone, your chest, trailing down your stomach , while his hand eased you out of your pants. 

“You think I don’t need you?” he said between kisses, each one a soft promise against your skin. “Baby, I fall apart without you.”

His mouth moved lower, worshipful and unhurried, kissing every inch of you like he was reacquainting himself with something sacred. By the time his tongue slid between your thighs, you were already trembling.

He groaned when you gasped, the sound low and reverent. Not just desire but devotion. His tongue moved with slow, deliberate precision, savouring every soft, slick response he pulled from you. He licked a long, teasing stripe up your centre, then circled your clit with a maddening tenderness, his hands gripping your thighs just firm enough to keep you open and trembling beneath him.

He moaned into you, like the taste of you was salvation, like he’d starved for this and finally had permission to feast. One hand slid up your stomach, grounding you as your hips bucked gently, chasing every press of his mouth.

“So sweet,” he murmured against you, voice thick with love, his lips brushing your most sensitive skin. “Taste like heaven. My heaven.”

He didn’t stop. Not yet. Not when you were trembling so perfectly for him. His tongue moved in slow circles, each pass deliberate and precise, coaxing you higher with gentle persistence. His grip on your thighs tightened slightly as your breath caught, his mouth parting you with reverence.

He flicked his tongue softly, then flattened it, letting the heat of him soak into every nerve ending, every gasp. He alternated pressure and pace, reading every twitch of your body like scripture. When he sucked your clit into his mouth and moaned, the vibration made your entire body arch into him.

“You’re not allowed to think you’re not wanted,” he rasped between strokes, his voice wrecked with affection and need. “Not when I love you.”

You cupped his face as he kissed up your body again, pausing to nuzzle the dog tags now lying warm between your breasts. “You feel like home,” you whispered, eyes glassy, voice raw with truth.

When he finally pressed inside you, it wasn’t fast or greedy. It was achingly slow, like he was trying to carve a place for himself inside you, not just in body but deeper. He let out a low, unsteady breath as he sank in, his forehead dropping to yours, his hand tightening around yours like he couldn’t bear to let go.

He didn’t thrust. Not right away. He stayed there for a beat, deep and still, forehead resting against yours as his breath caught in his throat. His hand stayed tangled in yours, his vibranium one anchored at your hip, grounding you both. “I need this,” he whispered. “Need you. Like this. Just us. You make everything quiet.” Bucky needed you to feel every inch, every part of him that belonged to you.

And then he moved like a tide rolling in to soothe what had been broken, to wash away everything that hurt. His hips rolled back with unhurried grace, then pressed forward again in a smooth, reverent stroke, making sure to drag himself along your velvet walls with each motion, slow and devastatingly deep. The way he filled you, the way he moved inside you. Like he was writing his name into your soul with every breathless thrust, imprinting himself where no one else had ever reached. Every motion was a promise: that he was here, that he was yours, that you were loved in the most complete, carnal, and emotional sense of the word.

Every slow push and pull was deliberate, reverent, the kind of lovemaking that felt like a conversation without words. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, your temple, murmuring softly between each breath.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking as you trembled beneath him. “So damn much it hurts. You make me feel like a man. You see me.”

You cupped his cheek, tears sliding down your temples. “You see me.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath and kissed you again, Bucky pouring everything he had into it.

His rhythm stayed slow but insistent, hips pressing into yours with aching tenderness, like he wanted to be memorized, like he never wanted to be forgotten. The friction, the closeness, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever made him feel whole—it all built into something consuming, something soft and sacred.

When you came, your soft cries muffled into the curve of his neck, he held you tighter, like anchoring himself to you, like if he let go, the whole world would tilt. He whispered your name over and over again like a prayer, like a lifeline, like a vow, following close behind you with a quiet, broken groan into your skin.

And you knew, in that moment, that this wasn’t just sex.

It was coming home.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Afterward, he wrapped the blanket around you both, tucking you into his chest like he was trying to shield you from the rest of the world. His metal fingers traced soft, soothing circles against your spine, grounding you in the silence that settled warmly between you.

“You ever doubt your place again,” he murmured, lips pressed to your hair, voice rough with sleep and sincerity, “I want you to remember tonight. Remember how I touched you. How I looked at you. Remember this.”

You nodded against his chest, overwhelmed, your cheek pressed to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Your fingers curled around the dog tags still resting over your heart, the weight of them a quiet promise.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, the words small but certain.

He smiled, eyes closed as his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“You always were,” he said, so softly it was nearly a breath, but you felt it more than heard it, like a vow etched beneath your skin.

Rewrite Our Tale

Summary: I was playing around with this idea about Loki having a soulmate and her being lost to him because of his fate in the timelines and him seeing it all as the God of Stories. Canon divergent. Doesn’t follow canon at all.

Warnings: past in italics, angst, soulmate bonds, mentions of previous fate of loki’s character dy-ing

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

A.N: tbh I’m writing after a long time and I just wanted to put something on here cause I wanted to know what people think of this idea, I may continue it but for now this is like it

Masterlist

Silence. Deafening silence. Only broken by the tightening of a branch around its story. Then silence again. Sometimes he would forget to breathe, a God not needing anything. Breath, sustenance, what even were these mortal wants?

Aurora borealis surrounds him, the hues changing every few moments, seconds or minutes? He still hasn’t decided how time would move for his immortality.

He yearns, not for power no, that was a stupid goal. No matter how his destiny was written, he suffered.

Walking around the garden sowed around his version of Yggdrasil; the God reached the flowers his mother adored. Fingertips tracing the petals, softness wrapped around him.

There were other flowers he had planted.

Not using seidr but with his bare hands. There was something about these flowers, in a vision of his variants, this flower always was encased by his palms and then gently placed into the palms of another.

Her hands always hidden away, he knew soul bonds were a thing, markings that matched exactly.

He pauses, staring down at his hands, the torsion of branches had marked him. A pattern on his forearm. Starting between his thumb’s webspace snaking its way around his wrist and forearm ending at the elbow.

The life video Mobius had shown him did harbour her. His soulmate. How he met her during the battle of New York, commanding the Chitauri. A false ruler. A mere pawn in the larger game.

The building they first hijacked had her curled away in the corner. Frightened. Her eyes shifted as they met his iced blue. For a moment the noise, the screams seized to exist.

She watched his eyes return to their original green. Her hand held out, the marks that he grew up with, mimicked on her as well.

A gasp left him, he pulled her close. Flush against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” The first words he whispered, “It—, this is not who I am, you have to—,”

“You can right your wrongs.” She had cut him off, the soul bond creeping along their bones, stitching itself into their beings to bring them together.

The video continued to show his deception to his brother and father. A duplication casting spell done.

Loki had visited the universe, then. Curiosity had gotten the best of him. Wanting to know what it was to be accepted, despite being flawed.

He realised a few things, whatever his variant had disguised with his seidr to it worked on everyone but her. He had made sure she’d have the ability to see through his magick. So she could trust him. Know his intent behind the spell.

She’s a spellbinding woman he agreed. Carrying herself so elegantly. She worked from the house most days, going to volunteer at the animal shelter. Hair her form of expression it would tell him her mood or mindset.

A simple braid indicated tiredness, resulting in his duplicate to curl up with her.

An intricate french braid, she wanted her hair out of her face for baking or going to her gym.

Two tiny buns on her head, she was happy, it made her smile wherever she caught her reflection. It was his favourite.

Her beautiful locks open, worn natural? She was every bit the divine he would kneel for willingly.

Another visit more far off in time, when his death occurred.

It was during the formative phase of Thanos’ attack. She was there tucked behind several people. She was helping the Asgardians rehabilitate. While she was working in shelters and other spaces allowing her expertise.

The to be martyred Loki’s eyes were on her, she could feel his seidr around her. Tearful eyes blurring him and then clearing the memory that would haunt her.

“Close your eyes,” She weakly ordered the travellers. The parents covered the eyes of the children. Some even screwed their own eyes shut but Thor and her watched.

“No resurrections this time.” Thanos’ words were followed by five sounds.

A crack.

A shatter.

A thump.

Footsteps receding away.

A wail.

The wail parted Asgard’s remains. She saw Loki. Crumpled. Skin no longer vibrant.

Even if he was the God of Stories now that scene is what breaks him apart.

Her crying and pleading. Telling him he can stop pretending. That they were safe. He could return to her. Return to build their future. Together.

He wanted to alter the timeline but he knew he couldn’t, not with how this branch was supposed to take root.

“The mark’s gone .” One of the people whispered. Then more joined in. Even Thor’s heart broke because that was the sign your soulmate was dead and gone.

Thor wanted to offer comfort to the woman who he’d accepted as his younger sister in law. The way she brought out a facet of Loki he had hoped would shine earlier. He didn’t know what to say to the inconsolable woman.

The journey to earth would be painful.

Loki narrows his eyes at her forearm, he could still see the mark. So what was everyone on about?

The God of Stories pauses his hands tending to the flowers. He hadn’t visited that timeline in a long period of time that had elapsed.

Why could he still see the mark? Was this a common occurrence across all his deaths?

He dusted his hands off. Upon turning finding himself at the foot of his throne. A branch slithered towards him. Loki took it.

Every branch, each timeline. He could view the mark whereas everyone else couldn’t, he had to follow his soulmate.

Advancing through the time, he held his breath.

“Why can I still see it?” She traces the lines, “You’re out there aren’t you? You’re going to find me Loki.” Her hands move to whatever jewelled totem he had bestowed upon her.

Earrings, necklaces, bracelets. She held onto them and hope.

What the fuck had Kang done?

Was a variant of her supposed to escape into the TVA? If so why hadn’t Mobius said anything to him? It should have been similar to him. Did she not try hard enough to fight? Was her rebellion against the TVA pulverised each time? Was she lost?

For the first time since his coronation Loki feels sick to his bones. His soulmate was out there waiting for his return. Holding onto hope.

Each timeline had her, he needed to explore them all. He needed to know what became of her.

He needed to go back to see Kang.

Loki feels the branches wrap around his forearms. His sacrifice meant something. This control wouldn’t be relinquished. He had to know, he had to know her.

Protect her better.

Cherish her better.

He could conjure a second throne. They could rule together.

Selfishness ebbs at his selflessness.

Loki closes his green eyes, when he opens them. He’s back at Kang’s residence hours before Sylvie made the choice for them all.

“You’re early.” Kang tuts closing the hardbound book, turning to Loki. He hums.

Loki merely observes. It was better to allow Kang to reveal what he knew before using his own words.

“Ah, I see you’re late.” Kang smirks then, “What questions do you seek answers for, God of Stories? Have you come to ask why? Or is it something, or someone else?”

“You know what you have done.” The God perches himself on a chair.

“Yes; and look where that got you.” Kang gestures around and then to the vintage model of the milky way.

“I did not think you would play with soul bonds.” Loki comments drily.

“Just yours and maybe a few others, you were inevitable well some version of you. All this power why should you share it?” Kang resumes reading, “She has one triumphant variant as well, the way you have died and escaped, she shall too go through the same fate. However, you took over before it came into fruition.”

Fists clenched, the cuts from the branches reopening over his knucles, “You dare play games with a God?!” His voice bellows. Earlier grandeur colouring his nerves. The wounded ego aching to return with a vengeance.

“You lost her yourself, Loki. You must find her yourself. I had prepared it but you chose different. I do not control the crown that rests on your head. Tempting, however it may be.” The man chuckles, reopening the book. “Go on, there are no clues here. My death shall not be of aid either.”

Loki knew, no amount of torture, magick, time loops, and pleading with his own mind would be of aid. This was a riddle left for him to figure out.

The branches of time part, the portal softly moving the way leaves do in gentle winds. Loki stops himself, “Where was she to meet me?”

“Can’t trick a trickster, can I?” Kang sighs, “When she chooses a different path, the TVA would have brought her, you’d be the interrogator. Beyond that it would be you, her and your choices.”

Loki walks through the portal, the creaks of wood surround him. Wind whipping harshly at his cape.

He looks to her flowers as he ascends the throne.

talking in your sleep pt 1

Summary: Loki returns from a recon mission to discover that you hadn't slept since he left. Four days ago. based on the prompt "I haven't slept in four days"

Pairing: Loki x Reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: accidental sleep deprivation, light cussing, mild angst (?), Tony's a bit of a dick [let me know if i missed anything!]

"Hey, Reindeer Games, quit blocking the door, will you? I get it, you want out of here already because you can't stand being around us. Trust me, the feeling's mutual. But standing at the door while the Quinjet's still landing won't change a damn thing."

"It will guarantee that I am the first one out these doors, Stark," Loki grumbled in response, not moving an inch from his position by the door. Stark wasn't entirely wrong; he truly didn't wish to be around the billionaire, or his oaf of a brother. But he wasn't entirely right, either; if he allowed himself a moment of honesty, he wanted out of the flying vessel so that he could see you again.

You'd started working for Stark shortly after the god had been sent back to Earth due to a deal made by Thor on his behalf with their father, the Allfather, that instead of wasting away in a cell in Asgard for a thousand years, Loki would be utilized as an asset by the Avengers along with his brother as recompense for his attack on New York. When you'd started working at the tower, you recognized him immediately because of how often the news bombarded you with his face in those few days as well as the weeks – the months, really – that followed.

Not that you were complaining, of course, it was a devastatingly handsome face.

He fully expected you to recoil the moment he saw the recognition in your eyes, but just as much as you could recognize his face immediately, you saw as well that he was not the same man--god, actually--that he was all those years ago when he led the Chitauri to wreak havoc in your home. So with all the confidence you could muster, you smiled at him just like you did the rest and said it was nice to meet him. And that started the two of you on your path to where you were now, friends. Close friends, to be certain, but despite the arguments that would be made by some that you were more.

You weren't more. He would surely know if you were.

"Leave my brother be, Stark. He does not simply wish to vacate this vessel because he's itching to be away from us. He also wishes to be reunited with our dear Lady Y/N." What was that mortal expression again? Even broken clocks were right twice a day? Yes. That was Loki's current sentiment towards his brother. Oftentimes he would read situations wrong, but this time he was dead on. 

"So what's the deal with you and her anyway, Rock of Ages? You hitting that?" 

Loki straightened his stance, as if ready to battle yet again, and faced his brother and Stark. "How dare you insinuate that I would ever harm so much as a hair on her head--"

"Brother, no, you misunderstand our genius friend." He scoffed at the words. "Friend" was not a word he would use to describe Stark. "He simply means to inquire if you're laying with Lady Y/N--"

"Don't be ridiculous, brother," he hissed. "I've simply grown accustomed to her company. And she's too intelligent to get involved with someone as nefarious as I." And too pure, he thought to himself. To make the misstep of courting her would only proceed to corrupt her untainted soul. 

"Oh I get it," Stark's words broke through his reverie. "He's in love." He didn't bother to even react to that observation. "Oh. Look at that. No snarky comeback? No 'you are all of you beneath me'? Are you actually--Oh my god Thor look at him he's seething!" 

"Stark, I implore you to desist." Thor's tone was now cautious. "Perhaps just leave him be for now." Unbeknownst to the god of mischief, his brother had observed how he behaved around you. How he treated you as if you were something precious, and on the occasions that he held you, it was as if you were a delicate petal that might wilt at his touch. Thor had his suspicions, but watching how his brother reacted to Stark's words cemented them into conclusions. His brother was in love with you, and he'd chosen the path that would risk nothing but guarantee that you stayed in his life. 

When the Quinjet landed and its doors opened, Loki let out a groaned "Finally" before striding through the Tower, down a path that was most certainly not to his chambers. Anyone who crossed his path knew to stay out of his way, what with the purposeful strides and the almost gleeful look on his face, there was no doubt he was on his way to you. 

It was only when he was just a few more steps away that he realized the sun had only began to break through the night clouds, not having fully risen. You weren't due to arrive at the Tower for another three hours.

So then why was he hearing movement coming from your office? At this hour? 

He closed the distance to your office and opened the door, half expecting staff to be doing their rounds. Instead he found you, furiously typing away at your computer as you always did, but looking more frazzled than usual.

"Y/N? Darling?" 

You jumped at the sound of his voice, not even registering a few moments ago that the door had opened. You turned your head and looked at the devastatingly handsome features of the god you were fortunate enough to call your friend. Even though every time you referred to him as such, a dull ache would make itself known in your heart. You wanted more. Of course you wanted more. You'd have to be a fool to look at him, to know him the way you did, and not want more. 

But you knew better. You knew your place. You were meek and unremarkable compared to the likes of a master assassin like Natasha, or a powerful witch like Wanda. You wouldn't even be able to defend yourself in a bar fight. Being his friend was all you'd ever get. And you had to be content with that.

I am content with that, you told yourself. Fooling absolutely no one.

"You're back already?" you blurted out, realizing you'd spent a few moments too long spaced out and staring, and hoping he didn't notice. 

"Already? Darling, I was gone for four days, I--hang on." He walked towards you, taking your hand and gently tugging you up to stand. And then he took a good hard look at you, as if trying to remember something. "Something feels amiss with you." 

"Y/N? You're way too early, even for you," Natasha's voice floated in to your office. She threw a quick glance Loki's way. "Welcome back, Laufeyson." Then she turned her attention back to you. "You're in the same clothes from Monday," she remarked, the concern beginning to lace through her voice as she observed the candy packets and coffee cups littered throughout your desk.

"Yeah. Because it's Monday," you answered, wondering why these two were acting so strange. 

"Sweetie, it's Friday. The guys left for a 4-day reconnaissance mission on Monday morning. They returned today. Have you…have you been in here the entire week?" 

Realization dawned on you as the words escaped your mouth. "I haven't slept for four days?" And then your knees buckled.

If it hadn't been for the reflexes of the god who wrapped his arm around you and held you upright, you would've for sure been on your ass on the floor right about now. "Sweetheart," he whispered into your ear, making you question if your heart picking up its pace was from the copious and questionable amounts of caffeine coursing through your bloodstream, or from his proximity to you. "Have you even eaten?" 

"Do those count?" You motioned to the empty snack packets on your desk, causing him to groan as he rested his head against your temple. 

"My darling human," he murmured, the rest of his words spoken too softly to be heard over the thundering of your heart. 

"Alright, Y/N? Sweetie? I'm gonna fix you something to eat. Something proper. And then you're gonna get some sleep. I'll tell Stark you're not reporting for work today. Now go take a shower. Can you walk on your own? Loki, let her stand." He let you go, his arms poised to catch you in case you were to stumble over again; you didn't. And you managed to make your way over to Natasha without tripping over your own feet, which gave her a bit of reassurance. "Okay. Grab a change of clothes from my closet, get yourself cleaned up. Then make your way back down here and eat something before you go to sleep, okay?" 

You nodded as you made your way upstairs. You briefly heard her tell Loki not to follow you, and then holler at Wanda to make sure you made it to her room alright, and the Sokovian met you at the top of the stairs. "Y/N, you look awful. What happened?" 

"I forgot to sleep." The look she gave you prompted you to say more. "For four days." 

She looked towards the common area, chuckling to herself. "No wonder your god looks completely beside himself." 

"He's not my god, Wanda, he's--we're--we're friends." In your compromised state, you could barely contain the hurt that laced your voice as you said the words. "Just friends." 

"But you love him," she prodded. "And I've seen the way he looks at you. That's not a look of friendship, dear one." 

"You're wrong, Wan." You may be sleep deprived, but you were adamant in your convictions. "He simply tolerates me a bit more than the rest of you, that's all. That's it and that's all." 

"If you say so, my friend," she murmured as you made it to Natasha's room. You walked straight towards the shower. "Any preference?" she called from Nat's closet.

"I just want my bits covered, Wan. I'll leave the rest to you." 

Fifteen minutes later you emerged from Nat's bathroom in a fluffy white towel, eyeing the emerald green silk camisole and shorts set that Wanda laid out for you. "Really?" You proceeded to eye her.

She shrugged in response. "Suits you. Makes you look regal." 

"I'm assuming you're not familiar with the concept of wearing certain colors in Asgardian culture, then?" At least your brain seemed like it was a bit sharper, thanks to the shower. 

"No, I am." The smirk on her face told you she'd been hanging around with Thor and Nat too much. "I'm not lying about the color making you look regal, Y/N. It really does. Regal and his." 

"I'm not his," you snapped, making yourself flinch. "I mean I am, but I'm not. I'm his but he doesn't know it. He doesn't care. We're friends. That's it--"

"--and that's all," she finished. "I get it, I get it. Now I'm pretty sure that despite our friendship, sharing panties is where we draw the line, so you'll have to go without." You shrugged, figuring as much, as Wanda turned around to let you change into the borrowed clothes.

She led you back to the stairs where Loki was waiting for you at the end. He threw a look towards Wanda when he caught sight of your outfit, and you were too caught up in making sure you didn't trip that you didn't catch her mouthing a "You're welcome" his way. When you reached the bottom of the steps, he wrapped his arm around you and led you to the kitchen island where Nat had a sandwich ready for you.

"You know I'm perfectly capable of walking, right? I managed just fine a while ago." You did your best to keep your tone light, almost joking. So that he hopefully couldn't see through you and see that you were fighting every urge to swoon and fawn over your current predicament. Just friends, just friends, you chanted over and over in your head.

"I prefer having my reassurances," he answered you simply as he lifted you onto a bar stool by the island. "You're far too precious to be compromised," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

"Eat," Nat ordered, placing a glass of water as you took a bite. You winced at the sound your stomach made as your body began to recognize that it was being fed real food and not something ultra-processed and sealed into a colorful wrapper. When you finished your sandwich, she took your hand and gave you a pill. "Melatonin. Drink. Then go to my room and rest. I'll be away the whole day anyway--"

"Nonsense, she's staying with me," Loki cut her off. "You've mentioned multiple times that you keep blades hidden throughout your chambers, some of which are very well within reach of anyone sleeping in your bed, Romanoff. She's safer with me." Your blood ran cold. Sleeping in the same bed as him? In your current state of dress? Yeah, that sounded like the worst idea. 

You opened your mouth to protest but the look on his face told you that wasn't any better of an idea. He seemed hellbent on personally making sure that you were nursed back to your normal state of mortality. He motioned to the pill in your hand. "Drink it, darling." You did as you were told. "Good girl." You fought every instinct you had in order not to show the effect those words had on you. His next words, though? You were completely gone. "Let's get you to bed." 

"You know, Jack Frost, if you wanted to get dear Y/N into bed with you, you could've just asked," you heard Tony quip as he walked into the kitchen. Then he took a look at you, your sullen face and your sunken eye bags. "What happened--"

"She didn't sleep for four days," Natasha answered. 

"I was trying to find a weak point in the security system of a group called the Ten Rings, you might be familiar with them, Tony, they were--" Your words got cut off as you felt the air leave your lungs, your feet leaving the floor as the dark-haired god scooped you up into his arms and carried you up the stairs and away from the conversation. "Hey!" 

"No more talk of work, little mortal. It will still be there when you wake. For now you have to rest."

"Take next week off, Y/N! I don't want to see you in that office of yours for the next seven days!" Tony hollered from his place in the kitchen. 

When you and the god were out of sight and earshot, Nat addressed Tony. "Isn't that a bit too much? I mean today and Monday? Yeah, I understand. But the whole week? What game are you playing, Tony?" 

"Laufeyson's," he answered the assassin. "I'm giving him game. Those two are idiots in love if I've ever seen it. And call it a gut feeling, but I think one of them's finally gonna confess. The week is more a gift to him than her." 

"Aww you're warming up to him." 

"You tell anyone and the next mission I send you on is with Barnes. Just Barnes."

You finally felt the effects of the medicine kicking in as you laid in the center of Loki's bed, listening to him reading you poetry with his silken voice. You didn't want to but you felt your eyelids falling, despite wanting to keep awake a little longer just so he'd keep reading to you. 

"Sleep, my darling," he chuckled as you let out a yawn. 

What possessed you to shuffle closer to him and rest your head on his chest – his bare chest, mind you – you would never know, but you'd blame it on the Melatonin. "Thank you for making sure I don't stab myself in Natasha's bed," you mumbled against his skin, unable to register that his heartbeat had gone erratic against your ear. 

He pressed a kiss to your hair. "Of course, my precious mortal. I'll always watch out for your safety, you can hold me to this promise." He ran his fingers lightly up and down your side, trying to help you get to sleep faster, so that he could allow himself to lose his feigned composure at the feel of your soft body against his. 

You wrapped your arm tighter around him and burrowed your face into the crook of his neck as you mumbled, "I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you." 

His hand stopped. His breath stopped. He could have sworn his heart stopped as the words left your slumbering mouth. "What did you say?" he all but choked out. 

He felt you shrug against him as you said, "Why the fuck not. It's just a dream anyway." His breath hitched as he awaited your words. "I fell for you. Head first. Absolutely stupid in love." If it hadn't been for the drowsy tone of your voice he could've sworn you were awake. Or perhaps he wished you were, so that he could look into your eyes as you said these words. "I know I shouldn't be. Ruin the friendship and all that. But you didn't exactly make it impossible. You're perfect. Annoyingly perfect. And I was defenseless." 

"Oh Y/N," he breathed out. "My dear heart. My darling, beautiful little human. Are you telling me you're mine?" 

"I'm yours," you murmured. "I've always been yours." You nuzzled more into the crook of his neck, whispering against his skin, "I love you, Loki Laufeyson." The tears escaped him at those words, rolling down his cheeks. "Such a damn shame you don't feel the same way." It was as if the world had stopped turning as he felt you press your lips to his neck, letting out a contented sigh, before you fully succumbed to sleep. He had to tell himself to remember to breathe as he felt your breaths even out, letting him know that you had finally surrendered your body to rest.

The god, on the other hand, didn't sleep a wink. He couldn't. Not when there was so much he wanted to say. Not when there was so much to plan. 

A/N: Yes there will be a part 2, I'm not leaving it here. I just had to cut myself off because I'm incapable of writing short stories ahhh

Part 2 is up and available HERE!

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @redbluekjw @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1

Tom Hiddleston

I got to work IMMEDIATELY

I know it might be different because astarion is a vampire spawn. But please, just…just let me have this.

Dirty Diary

Summary: Loki is horny and decides to channel it through writing that is about you, before he pleasures himself.

[Loki x Reader, Smut, Masturbation, Possessive Loki.]

Loki’s Writing:

Is this one of the punishments the Gods above have placed upon me? To feel so much for a singular being and not have the courage to do anything about it? I ponder about her in every waking moment of my day. Every second, I imagine what it would be like for her to simply feel the same way I do for her. Does she think of me as someone she can trust with her life? Is she still deep down afraid of me? It eats away at me little by little, not knowing how she feels about me. I fear that once it consumes me whole, I’ll never be the same again.

I think today’s that day.

My self-control to not give in to my desires of pleasuring myself to oblivion over the thoughts of her has been doing fine. That is until now. My aching length, reacting to the anger and frustration of my overwhelming love for this mortal, has been incredibly pestilent. Thoughts of having her all to myself in my chambers back in Asgard, where I can keep her safe and content there, have made the issue in my pants harder to keep away from. I want her to feel how good I can make her feel. Prove to her that she only needs me and no one else.

As I’m writing, I can feel my pre-seminal fluids gushing and soaking the fabric of my mortal-designed pants I have donned. It does not look as good as the clothing made in Asgard, but it is most certainly comfortable, if I were to speak the truth. These pants, however, would be better off me now considering how my tight cock is straining against it, begging for it to be unleashed. It’s screaming for her. This is all her fault.

What a naughty little minx. Does she know the effect she has on me? What would she say if she knew? Would she want her wet slick to be penetrated by a godly sword that fits just right? Or would she think me a monster? I wouldn’t be able to handle that. I cannot lose her. She’s so dear to me, I believe it’s changing me. I’ve found myself stumbling over my words, which is completely the opposite of what it is to be silver-tongued.

Gods, am I weak? Is love a weakness that blinds even the most powerful being? Well, they wouldn’t be powerful if love truly is blinding them, isn’t it? But it means they’re happy, so perhaps nothing changes? Love is mysterious, and if I hadn’t been under that same spell, I would’ve scoffed at it. Thor got infatuated with a mortal woman, and I thought it was the most ridiculous thing on the planet. Yet now I’m met with the same fate, and I cannot think of anything else other than her.

I need her.

Oh Gods, I need her. I will face death over and over again if it means being close to her. I would kill for her. I wouldn’t believe she would want that, but if I had to do it for her sake, I will in a heartbeat.

I cannot control myself any longer, and I find my hand is slipping into my pants, trying to get any sort of contact my pulsing cock needs. One hand on the pen, one hand on my length.

Today is the day I finally admit I am in love with her, and there’s nothing that can ever make me leave her side. I am her God that she will worship one day, for all of time.

THIRD PERSON VIEW

Loki throws the pen and book away in a fit of frustration and raging lust as he quickly unzips his pants and undergarments, springing alive his massive cock. The tip was very pink and angry while pre-cum leaked out as if it were weeping. Usually, pleasuring oneself back on Asgard was never done way too often as there were always “better” ways to relieve yourself like sleeping with a handmaid or others who are willing to partake in that sort of activity with you. Pleasuring yourself was always just seen as when you have no other choice or you’re just really desperate.

He wasn’t going to hide it. He definitely was desperate. He yearns for you all the time, despite him being around you often. You’re always with him since he’s somehow the only person in the Avengers Tower you manage to become close friends with. People, especially Tony, would tell you to be cautious of him back in the beginning when they started noticing how you’re always around him. You never listened, though, continuing your friendship with Loki. The God of Mischief was a lot of things, but one thing you knew was he never would’ve hurt you.

This friendship means a lot to Loki, but he always wishes for more. He wishes for commitment. To be with you forever.

His hands start making their first movements on his veiny cock, sliding up really slowly before it goes down. He’s imagining the first scene where you’re on top of him, your pussy wet and hot for him, and you’re slowly going down on him, piercing your wet heat. You would let out a breathy moan, trying not to be too loud. Once he’s all in, you’d fall in front to meet his neck, nuzzling yourself as you adjust.

Right now his dick is practically pulsing for you, like it’s signaling your name in Morse code. Soon, he starts picking up the pace and pumps himself, using his leakage as a form of lubricant. His mouth subconsciously opens, and he lets out a breath. Oh, what he’d do to see the look on your face when he surprises you by thrusting into you from below, letting out a moan of surprise. To know you’re both safe with you in his arms, cradling you, is making him go crazy.

His other hand releases the mattress and finds its way to his balls, fondling them. Imagining it’s you below him, sucking and playing with them, is only adding to the experience as he found himself going ham on his length, his fist making a noise each time he hits his skin along with the wetness of his pre-cum. He realizes he’s lacking self-control now, unable to stop himself, so he quickly takes the imagination and goes forward towards the end, where he dreams of how things finish.

The trickster would be on top of you now, his arms sandwiched between you. Mirroring his fast paced fisting, he’d be pounding in you like a wild animal in heat, and your moans would drive him insane. It would be his turn for his head to drop down next to yours, smelling your natural scent as he leaves marks on your neck that would last for weeks. As he would do that, you’d whisper the magical three words that would change his life forever. That would consolidate the bond between you two.

“I…love you.”

“I love you, Loki.”

He imagined you’d repeat that over and over again, and on the last one…

“I love you.”

Loki’s hands were moving faster than lightning speed, and soon, white light filled his vision. He closed his eyes before spurting his seed everywhere on his stomach as he let out a loud groan. His body started shivering very slightly, which was something Loki didn’t really do often. The fact that he managed to do that just by the thought of you and his hands made him even more sure of his feelings for you. He pumped a feel more times before he relaxed and dropped his hand down.

Tears were starting to form in his eyes, and he wasn’t exactly about to cry but rather simply forming and clouding his vision. He wiped them away, not wanting it to be a big thing. He wondered if he did get to have you like this, would you sleep with him for the night? Or would you, like most people back on Asgard, rather sleep somewhere else? Or worse, you’d run to Thor and choose him over the God of Mischief and Lies. Over big, bad Loki.

No, you aren’t that cruel. He knows you. He knows you aren’t like them. Anyways, you mentioned you didn’t find Thor appealing in any shape or form, which was why it intrigued Loki. It made him happy if he was being honest. He is your God. Yours only.

He found his cock perking up again, and he sighed before going for round two, and then three and then more as he spent the entire night pumping and cumming, groaning your name repeatedly like a prayer or an incantation.

And when he wakes in the morning, he’ll be excited to see you again.

▪︎Early Mornings {Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader}

Super short oneshot about waking up next to the god of mischief ♡

Mega fluff, clingy Loki, married au, Loki still in Asgard au, physical affection YIPPEE-

Word count: 855

I'm currently taking headcanon requests :)

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The Asgardian sun rose into the early morning sky, tinting its previously dim surroundings with warm hues of orange and pink. The day was in its early beginnings. The grand city below stirred under its familiar rays and slowly came to life once more, just as it had for thousands of years before. Villagers and merchants gradually began to show their faces and go about their buying, selling, trading, farming, etc.

Life began to bloom within the palace as well. Servants scurried about, and guards switched out their positions with their replacements. The kitchens prepared breakfast for all the palace's inhabitants, and the smells of freshly baked bread streamed out into the corridors.

But as for two specific (and rather lazy) Asgardians, the day had not yet even begun.

Loki, a prince of Asgard, and his lover lay wrapped up together in the silky covers of the god's luxurious bed, limbs tangled, hair frazzled, and bodies pressed tightly against one another. Their soft snores filled the room almost rhythmically, creating a quiet and peaceful atmosphere that neither of them were even conscious of.

As the morning drifted on, the waking world summoned your body awake, causing you to finally stir and crack open an eye. The light made you wince, and you pushed your face into Loki's chest to shield your sensitive pools. A mumbled groan escaped your lips. Your hands gripped his night clothes in a pathetic attempt to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Upon sensing your movements, the raven haired god shifted slightly and tightened his hold on your waist. He half-consciously nuzzled the top of your head with his nose, his soft, warm breaths gently fanning your scalp.

"Are you awake..?" you questioned in a low tone, your voice a little muffled against his evergreen shirt. Loki only mumbled into your hair in response as he traced lazy patterns up and down your back with his long fingers. The mild chill of his skin made you shiver slightly.

You both lied there in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, enjoying the tranquility that came with being in each other's arms. You pressed your body a little closer to his, and he placed a sleepy kiss to your hairline. He slowly rubbed over your side, feeling over your curves that he was already so familiar with.

"We should probably get up soon.." you sighed as you propped yourself up a few inches on your elbow, slowly opening your eyes and attempting to adjust to the bright morning light. You ran a hand through your hair and went to fully sit up, but was swiftly pulled back down by a strong arm.

Loki grumbled out a low: "five more minutes..." and shifted again, this time moving to lay on top of your body and tangling his legs with yours to prevent you from getting up again. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his lips barely grazing over your skin. You let out an exaggerated sigh at the sudden heavy weight crushing over you and tried to push him off, but he wouldn't budge a single inch. Oh, what a dilemma! Oh well-

Eventually, you gave in and wrapped your arms around his torso again, unable to resist the opportunity to indulge in a clingy Loki. You could practically feel the god smirk against your neck in victory.

"You're such a brat."

Loki let out an amused huff in reaction and settled further on top of you. His touch blindly traveled up your thigh under the covers and found your hip and squeezed it in a firm, yet somehow, gentle grasp. Your soft flesh warm beneath his naturally cool palm.

"Now, now, is that any way to greet your husband good morning?" he quipped, now massaging your hip in a languid manner.

You rolled your eyes yet couldn't fight back the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips that revealed your lack of actual irritation.

"It is when he's being a brat," you sighed, feigning annoyance at his antics that you should have been more than used to by now. But he only chuckled, as he could see right through your little act.

"You can't fool me, darling. I know you far too well to believe even for a second that you're not enjoying this."

You wanted to protest, but the words quickly perished on the tip of your tongue. The bridge of your nose scrunched up in brief annoyance at him calling you out so casually like that. Curse his damn perceptive nature.

"...shut up," you grumbled, pride only slightly wounded. You were thankful that he couldn't see your face and the faint pink hues that tinted your cheeks. He would have enjoyed that far too heavily.

The snarky deity took great pleasure in your hesitant surrender and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, his face still buried there, taking in the sweet scent of the shampoo and bodywash you use.

"I am capable of many things, but silence is not one of them," he teased with another gentle squeeze of your hip.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

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