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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 1 year

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Desperate Measures | Loki x Reader (Part 7)

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been an exceptionally long time since I’ve been on here and finally released another part of Desperate Measures—yikes! I think it was a combination of life catching up with me and losing a bit of inspiration that caused my long departing. However, I have made it my new year’s resolution to write more, and fortunately, a new wind of inspo has taken this chapter to exactly where I’d like it to be. Thank you all so much for reading and waiting soooo long for this update! So without further ado, I truly hope you all enjoy part seven!

And if you haven’t yet, be sure to check out the previous parts:

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

As always, Happy Reading! :)

Summary: Following the frost giant attack on Asgard, Loki’s capture being consequential, you feel that there is only one way to prove his innocence. But the question becomes: how much will it cost you?

Word count: 4035

You could feel his gaze on your face. It was burning hot, enough to make you break out in a sweat. He was far from you, way on the other side of the throne room. His arms and legs shackled, held in place by two dungeon guards. You had noted all this with a sweeping look in his direction that you hoped only lasted a millisecond. A glancing stare held for even a moment too long could send you crumbling. So instead, you focused on in front of you which sat an empty gold throne and once it was filled, you’d have to tell the truth as you see fitting.

It had been a few weeks since you saw Loki in his cell. He refused to see you each time you snuck down into the palace’s lowest level. You understood why he was upset. After all, you were mad at yourself for the same reason. Couldn’t he see that you were sorry? Couldn’t he see that you were trying to make things right? You decided after the last failed visit that he couldn’t. He wasn’t going to forgive you and that was far worse than anything he’s ever done to you, nor you to him. So you did what you had intended to do that first night Loki had been locked away but grew too scared to follow through with. But this time you weren’t scared, you were angry.

So you entered the palace earlier today as if it were any other typical morning, but it wasn’t. For if it were, you would have gone about your chambermaid duties and kept quiet, passive. But instead you felt a fire burning in your stomach as you marched straight to Roneus to finally demand a meeting with Odin.

“Have you lost all sense of reason?” he asked after hearing your request.

He shook his thick head and you couldn’t work out if it was in disbelief or disappointment. You reckoned a bit of both. “You will not speak to Odin even if you bloody saw Loki marching in the Frost Giants himself.”

“But it wasn’t him!” you said, pleading for him of all people to listen.

“You will not speak to Odin,” he repeated. “And that is the last I will hear of this.”

Unfortunately for Roneus, that was not the last of it. Not for you, anyway. If Roneus wouldn’t help, you’d go to the next best option who from the corner of your peripheral you noticed beaming his charming face into the chamber alongside his father.

“What is the meaning of this?” Odin demanded as he took in the sight of Loki and then swung his line of sight towards you.

Thor walked with his father until they reached the throne and as Odin took a seat upon it, he began.

“Father, I have summoned you here because my chambermaid has information pertaining to Loki’s whereabouts on the night of the attack.”

Loki’s gaze making your body temperature raise was nothing in comparison to Odin, who with one look could slice you in half, top to bottom.

He cocked his head to the side and then spoke, “And why shall I care what she is to say?”

You had an answer prepared for such a question. That was a useful trade of yours--always being prepared for the unpredictable, and it proved handy quite frequently in the palace.

It was useful when you had approached Thor this morning. This was of course after your failed try at Roneus. Now you had the intention of convincing the God of Thunder to let you speak for his brother’s implausible involvement in the attack; that interaction too required you to pull from your repertoire of prepared half-lies, each baked somewhat in the truth.

You were out of breath after running through corridor to corridor. You approached Thor’s chamber door in record time and released a heavy sigh before knocking.

“It is open!” a hearty voice sounded from behind it, unmistakably the God of thunder.

Without hesitation, you enlisted the help of your upper body to push the heavy door slightly ajar. It was enough of a crack to house a glimpse of Thor who sat at the edge of his bed, nursing a sliced wound that run along the width of his bicep. You nudged the door further, providing a sufficient gap to slip your body into his chamber as he patted the laceration with a damp cloth.

“Thor,” you addressed him at once, “did someone do that to you?”

He froze in place as you moved towards him.

“Y/n,” he called to you, almost startled at your presence.

“Were you excepting someone else?” you asked, conscious of how uneasy he was by your appearance as if you were the last person he wished to behold as he tended to himself.

“No. No,” he muttered, his few words spilling out in chaos, rather reminiscent of the mayhem that had consumed the palace only mere weeks ago at the hands of frost giants. You had never seen Thor, who always seemed to be reserved and collected, so caught off guard. He took a second to calm himself and then tried again, “You are always welcome.”

You smiled politely at him. “That is very kind of you to say.”

Then you lowered yourself beside him on his bed and examined his wound.

“May I?” you asked.

As both his and Loki’s chambermaid, you had a duty to assist him in such circumstances.

Thor pressed the cloth laying dormant in his hand back against his arm.

“It is just a knick,” he dismissed. “I have endured far worse.”

You placed your hand on his and felt his grip on the cloth loosen. “I do not doubt that,” you began, moving his hand away from the gash and onto his lap. Finally, you could view the slash up close. “But this is not just a scratch, Thor.”

The laceration was not deep enough to reach the muscle, but it had still torn far into his skin to require a few stitches. You had deduced it so from the knowledge you had acquired by caring for your father who would at one time come home from Asgard with wounds and abrasions all over his body. Thor’s cut was not nearly close to those that once riddled your father, all of which now present themselves as the scars of what used to be. But you were confident enough now in your healing abilities that you could sew his arm without leaving so much as a mark once it was healed.

“Allow me to grab some medical supplies,” you said, shifting your focus from the fresh gash to his blue eyes, “and I shall tend to your wound.”

He nodded his head and you pushed yourself off his bed. Much like in Loki’s chamber, Thor’s room was equipped with endless reserves needed to tend any injuries a god could endure in battle.

Once you had gathered a needle, thread and alcohol, you got to work stitching his wound in the same way you had done to Loki. When was that, you tried to remember, less than a month ago? You couldn’t quite recall, nor did you care really to. Both gods were still and emotionless as you pierced their skin and threaded their lacerations shut.

“I shall come back this evening and change the bandage.” You said to Thor, wrapping a thin, almost transparent, cloth taunt around his bicep.

He placed his free hand on your arm, pausing you from bringing the cloth around the backside of his arm for a second time.

“Thank you,” he said, “truly.”

You resumed wrapping his arm and then stood up when you were done. Thor followed suit, lifting himself up slowly. He was wincing so slightly you hadn't even noticed it until he clutched at his abdomen as he stood tall beside you.

“I am fine,” he announced before you had a chance to question him.

“You are not,” you protested. Your hands hovered inches from his chest. “Take off your armour.”

Such a demand directed at Loki would have warranted a provocative response that sent shivers down your spine. But Thor was different. He was honest, kind and the epitome of chivalry. And as such, he obeyed your command, stripping his metallic armour off his chest.

You stifled a gasp as he revealed the collection of violet and indigo bruises that ran across the span of his ribcage. The abstract shapes were a delicate painting composed of the gallant moments he spent protecting Asgard during the attack. You imagined him suddenly charging through the corridors, Mjölnir equipped in his hand. He was fearless, powerful as he struck down giant after giant.

“I assure it appears much worse than it is,” Thor insisted, swiping you from your trance.

But you were far too transfixed on his injuries to put much thought into what he had said. Instead, you softly inched your fingers onto his skin and ran them across his abdomen, side to side. Then you met his eyes.

“Does that hurt?” you asked.

“No,” he replied. The word came out of his mouth low and sweet.

“Does this?” You pressed your fingers harder on his skin to feel for any broken ribs.

“Ahh,” he squirmed, “now that indeed does.”

“Good,” you said.

“Good?” he echoed.

You nodded your head.

“I don't suspect that you've broken anything. You would be in much more agony after such a jab.”

Thor reached for your hands still up against his midsection and brought them higher onto his chest.

“And tell me, healer, how does this feel?” he asked.

Although Thor was far more gentlemanly than Loki, it was undeniable that they both possessed the charm needed to woo even the most unmovable creature. Was that a perk of being a god? Did women, and men, always fall upon their feet without reason? Were they willing to use their ordinary bodies, which paled in comparison, to satisfy their god’s every divine need?

With your hands on his body, your prior motive for entering Thor’s chamber now lost with the wind, you felt yourself falling--unwillingly, unintentionally. All that consumed your brain was the hot tension swelling between you and him. You couldn't function with such burning passion stirring inside you.

“It feels...” you began hastily before even rationalizing your thoughts, “strong and vigorous.”

Thor gave your hands a tight squeeze, his eyes still anchored upon yours as if you were the only two beings to exist in all of the vast infinite universe.

“You are perfect,” you gushed, the words pouring out before you could even think to stop them.

He grinned widely, displaying his godly-perfect teeth.

“As are you.”

You shook your head. He couldn't have been further from the truth.

“I am not,” you said.

Now it was his turn to disagree, but he didn't need words to do so. Thor, towering over you, stooped his upper half down towards you until your faces were a finger-width apart, wisps of his long blonde hair brushing against your cheek.

“You are,” he whispered, his breath hot against your lips, “perhaps even far too perfect.”

With his mouth so close to yours, you were certain that you would have given yourself over to him. You would be foolish to deny a God what he desired, what you wanted to satisfy.

But as if a sign to halt beaming down from the hands of divine intervention—or perhaps from Loki himself—Thor’s chamber door flew open.

And before you could see her, you heard her. “I hope to Odin that I did not wound you too terribly this morn. Perhaps next we should put strain on your defence and—Oh.”

“Sif,” Thor called to her, pulling away from you.

She hesitated. “I can come back. I do not mean to intrude.”

“No, you are not,” you interjected yourself into the conversation.

But she didn’t so much as move a muscle to acknowledge you.

“I simply came to dress your wounds,” she said, speaking only to Thor. “I am the one after all who gave them to you.”

Despite her gaze being fixed on the God of Thunder, you couldn’t shake the feeling that her last few words were directed towards you.

“Y/n has tended to me, Sif” Thor said, glancing down at you. “As my chamber maid she—”

“Has a duty to you,” Sif completed mockingly, “yes Thor, I am aware.”

You buried deep the last bit of desire swelling inside you while alone with Thor. Then you spoke; “I believe it is best I go.”

The ends of Thor’s lips turned downwards as the words left your mouth.

“That is not necessary,” Thor protested.

But Lady Sif thought otherwise.

Finally, she addressed you.

“I am quite sure she has more pressing matters to attend to,” she said coldly with a smile almost as wicked as that of Loki. “Perhaps coddling the traitor in our dungeons.”

“He is not a traitor!” you shouted before your brain could stop you.

“See,” Sif smirked.

“Why do you say that?” Thor asked suddenly, his eyes narrowed in study.

"Because, Thor,” you began, steading your voice, bracing yourself for the pushback likely to be returned. Finally ready to tell him what you had meant to say all along, “I was with him.”

You decided that with Thor it was best to keep your explanation vague. He didn’t need to know more than was necessary, and telling him that you’ve dreamt of his brother doing inexplicable things to you felt needless.

“She is without question spewing the falsities Loki wants for you to believe,” Sif reasoned, her swift reply lacking much merit.

And fortunately for you, Thor thought so too.

“Leave us,” he demanded of Sif.

Though he spoke to her, his eyes were on you and you couldn't help feeling small and wilted as if you were a shrivelled flower devoid of rain under his watch.

“Thor,” she pleaded.

This time he was icy with his response “I said leave us. Now.”

So she did with as much hesitancy as her body could allow. And you were able to tell him what needed to be said.

“Loki could not have done what is believed of him,” you answered, your voice firm and matter-of-factly.

Odin seemed more baffled upon hearing your response. He shifted in the throne, planting his back taunt to the gold seat that seemed to cascade down the front steps all the way to the floor in which you stood upon.

“Well what are you waiting for?” he pressed. “Do tell me how my son is not responsible for this heinous attack against my home.”

You swallowed hard. It was now or never. You glanced once more at Loki and then shifted to Thor. His face was hard. Gone were the upward curves of his lips that made him the charming god he was. Hearing this a second time was sure to sting, but he valued his brother enough to endure it.

“Loki was with me the night of the attack,” you explained. “He did no more than lay beside me at night, and when the early hours of the morning came, he took his depart so that no one would suspect us together.”

You sight fell upon Thor who's face twisted with either anger or jealousy, you couldn't quite tell. Then he looked to Odin whose own eyes widened.

“Oh,” he responded. “I see.”

He frowned upon his son restrained to his far left. Then he tsked.

“Well, I am afraid I would be no better than a cheat to say that hearing this of Loki with yet another of his chambermaids isn't out of character.”

A sharp pang ran through your chest at the harsh reality that you knew all too well sinking into you once again like wine settling at the bottom of a glass. You were but a notch on Loki’s bedpost. Nothing more and nothing less.

“But you have failed to convince me of Loki’s wrongdoings,” Odin began, alerting his focus back to you, “for you cannot attest to his deeds once he was out of your sight.”

“But I can.” The words rolled in calmly from a voice, who by the sounds of it, had just entered the large chamber.

You turned with haste to meet Roneus trotting towards you.

“With all due respect your highness, I must speak the truth,” he said. Once he was stood tall beside you, he spoke again, “I can provide witness to Loki entering the palace before the attack.”

Roneus threw a grin towards you, one that you had never seen his face wear, unpleasant and remorseful.

“Prince Loki went to his chamber upon entering the palace where he met his nightly--” Roneus paused to look at you, his eyes glossy as if they were a mirror and you could just make out your own reflection. They were speaking to you in a way his words never could. It was as if he were trying to apologize, and you felt your gut sink a little lower.

Finally, he returned back to Odin, composing himself. “He went to his chamber where Prince Loki met his nightly lady visitor. A chambermaid, but not his own. And after I had done my routine sweep of all the palace corridors, I was back at Loki’s chamber where I witnessed the maid depart from his door dishevelled and wearing only her undergarment.” He sighed heavily. “A few moments later we were under attack.”

There wasn't a single mouth in the chamber with their lips sealed apart from Roneus and Loki. Yours was hung upon in a bittersweet concoction of relief and outrage. You were in shock that Roneus had come forward after being so against your own confession to the King of Asgard. What changed? And why didn't Roneus tell you any of this earlier? Why lie and let you be miserable for weeks? Why let Loki rot in a cell? No! You forced yourself to stop thinking of Roneus, and like a tidal wave crashing over you, fury boiled in your veins. They were pumping lava throughout your body and soon you were seeing red as you directed your gaze towards a grinning Loki.

He was loving this. His stupid smirk and glimmering eyes revealed it all. You didn't know if you wanted to cry, scream, or walk right up to Loki and sock him in the face. You were leaning towards the latter when suddenly your anger dissipated and was quickly replaced with humiliation. How could you be so foolish to believe that Loki could feel anything resembling fondness towards you. You didn’t have to crawl inside his mind and dig around in the inner workings of his brain to know that this was all a game to him, and you, just a spawn on his black and white board. He had won. Checkmate.

“Well this changes things,” Odin said, swinging his head towards Thor, “Does it not?”

Thor nodded. It was gentle, sad, and very unlike him. You were reduced to bits knowing that you so plainly made Thor feel as pathetic as Loki had done to you, over and over. Had Thor been the brother pining over you this whole time? Was he the one you were supposed to fall for? Imagine that: a chambermaid and her god, lightning flashing a storm between them. He would be hers and she would be his. It could be plain as day.

But the more you ruminated, the more the thought felt childish as you hopelessly romanticized what simply couldn’t be. Your stomach fell somewhere deep into your body. You felt weightless and yet heavy at the same time. Your body was finally rejecting the fantasy you had built in your head. If you could return to the fateful day you had met Loki on the front steps of the palace, you would have turned right around before exchanging even a single word with the God of mischief. So much could be different if you had not been stubborn.

When your pity party of one was over, you noticed Odin’s attention had returned to you and Roneus respectively.

“I trust in your word, Roneus,” the king of Asgard began to say. Then he cocked his head to the side and twisted his lips as if in thought. His presence alone could dominate any room, bringing all attention to him. This was no exception. You wanted to look away, but your gaze was fixed upon the throne, upon your king. He resumed; “Although I do question why you insisted on keeping this knowledge to yourself?”

“Duly noted, father,” a voice chimed, coming somewhere from your left. Unmistakably Loki. “I also ponder the same when I have been rotting in that cell for weeks!”

“Silence!” Odin demanded, his deafening voice bouncing off the walls and boomeranging back towards him.

“I have heard enough from you Loki!” he continued, only this time he was a hair of an octave quieter. “You may not have been responsible for this attack but you do not remain guiltless.”

Loki was seething, and if he hadn't been restrained you would have feared for Odin’s life. But the king didn't share that same worry. He was calm and collected, yet firm and all-powerful. His words paraded out of his mouth with nonchalance as if his son were just another prisoner he wanted out of his sight. “So I shall see to it that a compromise is reached and you are as of now relieved of your time in the dungeon and—”

“No!” Thor interjected. Everyone in the palace had seemed to make a living out of interrupting each other. His prior unhappiness had turned into anger, much like your own switch of emotions. Perhaps, you began to realize, you were more similar to the God of Thunder than you thought. “Loki should not be released, father. Yes, we may not be able to say that it is he who arranged the attack, but I do not trust him, nor his intentions. And as such, he should remain as put!”

“You do not trust my intentions?!” Loki hissed. He thrusted himself forward, warranting the pull on his chains from the guards to keep him in place. “I do not have any ill intentions against Asgard! Perhaps, father, you might concern yourself with the intentions of your first-born son who is far more concerned with betraying his own brother than protecting the kingdom!”

“My concern is always with Asgard! You do not know what you say!” Thor fired back.

“I know exactly what I say, brother! You are a spineless coward, a doormat for all of Asgard’s enemies to saunter right over and into the palace! You are the--”

“Enough!” Odin roared, silencing both his children in their places. Fortunately, they were stood quite a distance apart.

You had been keeping score of the ping pong match between Thor and Loki. And as it stood, you couldn't quite decipher who was winning.

“I have heard plenty from the both of you, and I have made my decision.” The king rose from his seat. “Loki, you shall spend every waking hour training to defend Asgard. And by night, you will return to the dungeon to sleep.”

“Father!” Loki protested, but Odin waved it away.

A smug grin expanded across Thor’s face, and you felt a similar smirk grow upon your own.

Odin turned to Thor and his smile waned. “See to it that she”--the king had lasered his gaze towards you and Roneus, and if you weren’t trembling before, you certainly were now--“stays away from Loki.”

Your eyes swept the room until they made contact with the God of Mischief. He was seething, his fury so scalding it was emanating off him like palpable puffs of steam that rose into the air. His lips began to move, but released no sound--at least nothing you could hear from so far away. He was mouthing something you couldn't quite make out. Leaving? No, that wasn't it. Be me? You were getting closer. You could feel it. Meet me.

“Meet me.” He mouthed it one last time before being dragged across the golden room and out through the doorway.

Roneus put his hand on your shoulder and it was then that you realize you had been holding your breath.

Meet me. His words rang around in your head, like a dog chasing its own tail. Meet me.

TO BE CONTINUED :))

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

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Baby on the way | Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2k +

Summary: Being pregnant with Steve’s child hasn't halted your need for him, in fact it's only made it stronger. But Steve isn't so on board with the idea of getting intimate until you convince him otherwise ;)

Warning: 18+ Fluffy, light smut. Intimacy during pregnancy. (Everything described/implied in this oneshot is consensual.)

He couldn't wait to go home. He couldn't wait to see you. And yet, much like all day, another impromptu meeting was hindering him from driving to the Brooklyn apartment you had bought together and spending the evening with you.

“Mr. Rogers, you’re needed in conference room two.”

The words suffocated him as they swarmed about the tiny boxed-in cubicle he had wandered into following what he had hoped would be his last summit for the day.

When the words stopped ringing in his ears, he searched for their owner and met the eyes of a fiery red head who stood in the doorway of the makeshift office.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Steve said, shrugging his blazer onto his body and when it was fitted to him properly, he adjusted his blue tie.

His blunt response had procured a look of confusion from the woman who just so happened to be the assistant of Thaddeus Ross, the US Secretary of State. But Ross was much more than just his title. He was in fact the driving force behind pushing Steve and the rest of the Avengers to sign the Sokovia Accords—an agreement that would see enhanced individuals governed by the United Nations.

Steve understood the urgency of taking responsibility for one’s actions, he was never in dispute of that. This was largely the only reason he was willing to hear out the UN’s proposal for governance, but he was nowhere ready to sign a contract without understanding what sovereignty he and his fellow Avengers would lose in the process.

And so all day, he was in meeting after meeting listening to UN officials coax him into signing his name on the same dotted line—each discussion more sugar coated than the last. Now that the clock had finally struck 5pm, he was ready for it all to end for the day. He was willing to come back tomorrow and acquire more information, but he couldn’t listen to another word when his brain was full of you.

Being Captain America wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly. Using his strength, agility and courageousness was a choice he made every day. It was a commitment that overwhelmed the majority of his time. He didn't have time for himself. He didn't have time for friends. He especially didn't have time for relationships. But that all changed when he met you.

“But sir,” Ross’ assistant began again, her long ginger curls swaying as she shook her head. “Mr. Stark will be attending the conference as well.”

This made Steve laugh. It erupted loudly from his stomach.

“I’m sure Tony won’t need me there,” he sneered.

And it was true, he didn’t. Tony had already made up his mind about obtaining accountability for the actions of the Avengers, and the Vienna bombing at a UN ceremony that killed twelve people, including T’Chaka, the former King of Wakanda, only solidified his stance.

“He does,” she reassured as Steve began to walk towards her in an attempt to slip right past her and out of the office.

Steve shrugged. “Well he'll have to do without me this evening.”

And then he was off, leaving her in the distance as he walked his way through the New York UN building until he found his Harley-Davidson parked outside.

He mounted the bike and turned it on, a loud purr notifying anyone in the parking lot that he was leaving. With one hand pulling at the throttle and the other adjusting the motorcycle’s small circular mirror, Steve began his journey home to you.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

There wasn't enough time in the day to go to work, grade a month’s worth of assignments, prep lessons for the rest of the working week and then come home and make your husband a five-course meal. It just couldn't happen, and so as you stood in line waiting for your order of Chinese takeout, you hoped Steve would be alright with yet another dinner picked up on your way home from Midwood High School.

The first year of your marriage had been full of home-cooked meals prepared with enough love to drown cupid. But as you transitioned from a middle school teacher to a high school English instructor and Steve found himself wrapped up in conflict after conflict, neither of you had time for cooking by your third year wed. But that didn't mean you two still couldn't squeeze in a moment of your busy lives for each other.

As you finally reached your apartment after a long walk from Panda Express, the food gripped tightly to your side, you had half expected your home to be filled with the clanging of plates and cutlery as Steve set the dining table in anticipation of your arrival. But when you pushed open your front door, only silence greeted you.

“Steve?” you called out.

And when no response returned, you set the takeout on the kitchen island and walked over to the landline, the answering machine blinking brightly. With a quick press of the play button, Steve’s voice as sultry as ever filled the small room, honking cars sounding all around him.

“Hi honey, it's me. I'm stuck on the FDR parkway and I'm going to be home late. I should have left work earlier but I've had one of those days. I'll tell you all about it when I get home. I love you.”

A soft click chimed and then his voice was gone.

“Oh Steve, again?” you whispered to yourself.

You knew what you were getting yourself into by marrying the Captain America, and yet nothing could have prepared you for all the nights spent completely alone and the nonstop worrying while Steve was off fighting yet another outer-worldly threat to humanity. You couldn't fault him for putting his duty to protecting others first—that was just the kind of man he was, and it was one of the many reasons you married him in the first place.

But still you couldn’t hide your disappointment as you watched his dinner go cold or went through celebratory moments by yourself. Finding out you were a few weeks pregnant should have been the happiest day of your life, but instead it was as isolating as ever with Steve away in Austria and it broke your heart to deliver the news to him over the phone. He couldn’t kiss you, caress you, or even rub his hand along your belly, feeling the spot that would house his child for nine months. But he was home now, and being an hour late was far better than being oceans away.

Even though you had a long work day, you still wanted to make tonight special. It wasn't an anniversary; you didn't have any more surprising news to share. Today was a typical spring day, but whenever Steve was in town, you cherished every waking moment together.

You kept the takeout warm in the bag as you set the table for two. The small dining room just off of the even smaller kitchen oozed sensualness as you lit an array of white tea candles scattered around the porcelain dinnerware. Once all was to your taste, you headed to the master bedroom.

If you were going to put in this much effort into an improvised dinner date, you might as well dress the part too. You scoured through your closet looking for the scarlet V-neck dress you had worn on only one other occasion—you’re second date with Steve to a winery. When you finally located it, you undressed before your full-length mirror examining your growing belly in the reflection. In less than five months, you would be holding your newborn who was now just about the size of an avocado in your belly. You gave your stomach one last rub before slipping the dress on, and to your surprise, it fit right over your growing bump. You didn’t appreciate it then, but now you were oh-so-grateful for the dress’ stretchy fabric.

You did your best to zip the back up as far as you could. Then you departed back to the kitchen and waited for Steve.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

After being stuck in traffic for what felt like hours, Steve was finally home. He set his keys on the entryway console table and took off his shoes.

“Honey!” he called to you. “Are you around?”

He was still upset from his work day as he looked up and undid the top button of his white dress shirt, then he loosened his tie. But that all changed as you walked into the tiny foyer of your apartment that just had enough room for the two of you.

“Wow.”

That was all Steve could say as he took you in top to bottom.

He stammered, “you look—”

It brought butterflies to your stomach knowing that you could still make him speechless even after all this time.

“Pregnant,” you finished for him.

He laughed and then shook his head.

“I was going to say beautiful.”

You could feel your cheeks flush as Steve moved towards you. And with one swift movement, he had pulled you into him, his muscular arms wrapped around you.

“I've wanted to do this all day,” he whispered.

As he spoke, you could feel his chest vibrate against your cheek where your head was resting. If he could hold you like this forever, you would die happy.

He loosened his hold around you and took a step back.

“What?” you questioned, searching as far into his deep blue eyes as they'd allow.

He positioned his hand under your face and pushed your chin up.

“And I've wanted to do this,” he said before planting his lips on yours.

It was sweet and gentle. No matter how many times you kissed him, each felt like the very first time. He made you helplessly giddy and when his hands explored your body, he sent shivers down every last inch of your body.

“Steve...” you breathed into his mouth, gasping for air.

You could feel him smile against your lips. He loved when he got you all hot and bothered.

“Shh,” he mouthed, silencing you back into submission, back to mingling your tongue with his.

And for a while it worked until you pulled away.

“Steve,” you stammered between uneven breaths, “I've gotten Chinese takeout for us.”

He grinned at how flustered he had made you.

You continued after another deep breath, “It's already cold.”

He tugged you back into his chest and held you there.

“Well it'll just have to stay cold,” he teased, his breath hot against the top of your head. “I'm not finished with you yet.”

If his voice was tangible it would have stripped you of your clothes right then and there. Steve was so effortlessly sensual it was surprising that you were able to get anything done around him. How could you not want to jump his bones all day every day when he looked so good and said all the right things? The answer was simple: you couldn't.

You loosened yourself from Steve’s strong grip. Then you reached for his hand, pulling him along with you through your apartment’s main hallway towards your bedroom.

When you walked through the doorway you didn’t need to say anything, you both knew what was about to go down.

You stood in front of your bed, your back towards him.

“Unzip me,” you whispered and Steve was happy to oblige.

He moved slow. One hand pulled down the zipper as far as it could, the other was planted on your hip. He placed kisses on the back of your neck, working his way down your spine. As goosebumps prickled at your skin, he helped you step out of the red fabric. Completely exposed, he spun you around so he could take in your bare front.

“God you're beautiful,” he gushed, his eyes trailing over every inch of you.

Then he bent down on his knees so that he was eye-level to your stomach. He placed both of his palms against your belly, his hands warm against your skin.

“I hope they look just like you,” Steve whispered.

You snaked your hands through his hair and smiled down at him.

“Oh Steve.” His name poured off your lips slowly, the way honey oozes from a spoon.

And that was enough to make his eyes haze over with desire. He wanted you right here, right now and you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't craving the same.

You pulled at Steve’s biceps, urging him to stand back up. And when he had done so, you got to work unbuttoning his dress shirt as he yanked off his tie. Your hands ran up and down his exposed chest, tracing over every dip and crevice of his muscular upper half. Once they brushed upon the top of his pants, you maintained eye contact with him as you began toying with his belt, teasing him.

“Y/n...” he groaned. He hated when you made him wait.

“Is this what you want?” you teased, fondling his large buldge begging to burst through his pants.

He sighed loudly and you took it as a yes.

After undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his pants, you reached your hand deep into his boxers. You had Steve growling your name as your worked him to a point of no return. Over and over, he threw his head back and you smiled at your handiwork. But before he could reach his end, he grabbed at your hand.

“On the bed,” he demanded.

His voice was far to stern and salacious to not obey and so you found yourself mounting the mattress with haste, your back tingling at the contact of the cold sheets.

It didn't take him long to spread you open and give his full attention to your most intimate parts. He had you screaming his name as he kissed in between your thighs, his tongue brushing all the right spots.

When you finally dug your fingers into his dirty blonde strands, pulling him closer to where you needed him to be, he decided that it was time to quit before he lacked the strength to control himself. Steve was the definition of self-restraint but around you, composure flew out the window.

“Noooo,” you pouted, “don't stop.”

Steve shook his head and then stood up, taking a step from the bed. If he could put some distance between you and him, he might just be able to hold out.

You sat upright and reached for his hand. “I need you.”

“I can't,” he protested, shaking his hand free of yours. “I'm going to hurt you.”

You stood and moved towards him, pressing your front against his.

“You won't,” you assured.

Steve glared down at your belly and like a lightbulb sparking to life above your head, you finally realized where his hesitation was stemming from.

You brushed your hand against his arm.

“You won't hurt the baby either, Steve.”

He shook his head again, that was all he could think to do.

“We just have to go slow and be gentle,” you said.

The thought of him slowly pumping into you brought chills to your skin. You wanted him so bad you could barely contain it anymore.

“But you know I can't do that,” he answered.

“Steve!”

“I’m sorry.”

And he was, truly. He couldn't live with himself if he hurt you or the baby.

“Babe, I promise you we'll be fine,” you protested.

“How do you know that?” he questioned.

You grabbed both of his hands and positioned them on your protruding bump.

“Because I know you couldn't hurt us even if you tried,” you said.

Steve’s gaze was fixed on your stomach, he couldn't focus on anything else.

“But if you don't want to do it, you don't have to,” you continued, caressing his cheek in your hand. “Steve, we can wait. I promise I won't be upset.”

Finally, he eyes shifted from your belly and trailed up to your face. Something had shifted in him and his gorgeously lustful look returned.

“If you feel even the slightest bit of discomfort, you have to tell me. Deal?” he propositioned, wrapping his hands around your waist.

You stretched as tall as you could reach on your tippy-toes and kissed him softly.

“Deal,” you smiled into his lips.

Steve walked you backwards until your legs hit the front of the mattress. Then he gently lifted you up and lowered you carefully onto the bed. Your stomach performed a routine of backflips as you watched him lick his hand and then stroke it on himself. He positioned his pelvis at your entrance and with the smallest of thrusts, he was inside you.

You both sighed instantly at the friction.

“Is this okay?” he asked, maintaining a slow pace.

“Perfect...” you moaned, gripping at the bedsheets to either side of your hands.

You two continued in this gentle rhythm together, working each other’s body until all that was left was pure bliss. Steve was doing his best to control himself, so much so that you could feel him clenching inside you as you straddled him. That couldn't have been pleasurable you rationed and though your body said otherwise, you forced yourself to roll off of him.

“What's wrong?” he asked in a panic. “I knew I was going to hurt you.”

You rested down beside him. And once you were comfortable, you began massaging his chest slowly to calm him.

“You didn't baby,” you assured. Then you sighed, “I'm the one hurting you.”

Steve rolled onto his side to meet you face to face.

“You haven't,” he said. “How could you hurt me?”

If he weren't Captain freakin’ America, you would have been offended by such a statement. The man you were just atop of was practically invincible, and yet he was exhausting himself in an effort to not knock the wind right out of you.

“I’m making you strain yourself and I don't want that,” you sighed. “Let me just help you finish.”

Before he could protest, you dove towards his groin and took him all in. His body twitched at the sensation and you grinned in satisfaction. You bunched your hair into a ponytail and motioned him to take it. Without hesitation, he did, guiding you until he was cursing profanities.

When you could finally speak again, you teased him. “Language, Mr. Rogers, language.”

“I would mind my language if I could,” he answered, nearly breathless.

“Was I that good?” you taunted.

He swung his arms towards the headrest and propped his hands under his head. “Hell yes.”

“Steve!” you laughed, “you've become a full on potty-mouth.”

You rolled onto your side and gazed at his side profile as he laughed along with you. You couldn't help but admire how perfect he looked when he was his most candid self. If father time would let you, you could stay right here and stare at him for the rest of infinity.

“Should we go eat now,” Steve smirked, halting your fantasies. “Or would you like to stare at me some more?”

Of course, you denied his accusation. “I was not starring, Steve.”

But that was as far from the truth as humanly possible. You couldn’t help but stare at him in amazement that he was all yours, and when you brought your little bundle of joy into the world, you had no doubt that you would fell just the same towards them.

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

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🥰❤️

Just wanted to send you some love and say you are an incredible writer! Thank you for sharing your gifts with us ❤️

Thank you so much!! 😭❤️ I literally cannot express how much your support means to me! And p.s. I’m hoping to have the next chapter out soon 😉

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

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🥰❤️

Just wanted to send you some love and say you are an incredible writer! Thank you for sharing your gifts with us ❤️

Thank you so much!! 😭❤️ I literally cannot express how much your support means to me! And p.s. I’m hoping to have the next chapter out soon 😉

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

Note

Just wanted to send you some love and say you are an incredible writer! Thank you for sharing your gifts with us ❤️

Thank you so much!! 😭❤️ I literally cannot express how much your support means to me! And p.s. I’m hoping to have the next chapter out soon 😉

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

Text

@lokischambermaid thank you for your kinds words 😭❤️ I’m seriously so so so glad you like it!!

Desperate Measures | Loki x Reader (Part 6)

A/N: Hey everyone! I don’t have the words to say how grateful I am that you all are enjoying Desperate Measures. The support from every single one of you means the world to me, so thank you again for reading and being so patient and encouraging as I write the next chapters. I truly hope you all enjoy part six!

And if you haven’t yet, be sure to check out the previous parts:

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

As always, Happy Reading! :)

Summary: Following your quarrel with Loki in your family home, you imagined your next day at the palace to be unkind and brooding. But what you could have never envisioned was that your actions would set of a chain of events only you can bring to a stop.

Word count: 4400

There was a shift. A slight difference you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But it was there, hiding in plain sight. It was just nerves—you were sure of it as you entered the palace in the morning, the sun already high in the sky. The embarrassment of last night was still draped around your body as if it were an extra layer of skin you were meaning to conceal behind your lilac gown. You desired nothing more than to put the encounter with Loki in the twin’s chamber behind you, to go back to a time when he was just a God and you were just a girl. And most of all, you wished to go about your day without the sight of Loki. But not even the luckiest of stars could grant that to you for when you closed your eyes, all you saw was him.

You could only think of Loki and it was torture. You were breathless on the journey to the palace as you replayed over and over what you imagined him doing to you. This reenactment was just as vivid as what felt like the real thing. You could close your eyes and you were back under him, his intense gaze harmonizing with yours as he kissed your inner thighs. And when you became too consumed by the delusion, you paused your trek to gasp for breath. Your fingers would find your stomach in agony and the fallacy would begin again. For you couldn’t touch any part of your body without remembering all the places swirls of jet black hair had brushed upon while Loki slithered up your body to meet your parting lips.

It was torment. And yet worst of all, it had all just been a dream. You knew that. You allowed yourself to process it. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t deny how real it felt. You couldn’t refute the feelings it was stirring in you. Loki had for so long been a thorn in your side, bringing you nothing more than annoyance. Could he really be anything else? You thought you caught a glimpse of a kind, gentle Loki who won the liking of your family. But much like always, the God of Mischief proved his title true. There was no changing him, he was who he was. And that, you could accept. But for that same reason, you could never be with him.

Keep reading

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

Text

Desperate Measures | Loki x Reader (Part 6)

And if you haven’t yet, be sure to check out the previous parts:

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

As always, Happy Reading! :)

Word count: 4400

You could only think of Loki and it was torture. You were breathless on the journey to the palace as you replayed over and over what you imagined him doing to you. This reenactment was just as vivid as what felt like the real thing. You could close your eyes and you were back under him, his intense gaze harmonizing with yours as he kissed your inner thighs. And when you became too consumed by the delusion, you paused your trek to gasp for breath. Your fingers would find your stomach in agony and the fallacy would begin again. For you couldn't touch any part of your body without remembering all the places swirls of jet black hair had brushed upon while Loki slithered up your body to meet your parting lips.

So you forced yourself to rid your thoughts of Loki. It was just a dream and it was best that it stay as such. Though your heart told you otherwise, you pushed through the palace entryway and the feeling of uneasiness returned again. It remained with you as you sauntered through the long corridors, their eerie emptiness a sign that something was indeed off. You wandered some more, only your shadow illuminated by the rays of golden hour accompanying you. Loki’s chamber was your first stop. You knocked softly. And when no answer returned, you pushed open the door slowly.

“Loki?” you called out.

But it was pointless. He was not there. You weren’t sure what you would do or say even if he were. So you went to the next place you could think of, and at the far end of the palace, you did the same to Thor’s chamber door. When you received the same response, you didn’t bother calling out for him. Instead, you journeyed to a section of the castle grounds you had yet to explore—Frigga and Odin’s chamber.

“Your Highnesses?” you called from behind the closed door.

And then you knocked lightly.

Time seemed to go by as slow as molasses as you waited for your rap to be returned. Had it been a minute or only a few seconds? Should you knock again or just wait it out? Maybe wait. No. Knock. You should knock. Okay, do it. Wait. Don’t do it. Your head was swirling with racing thoughts. And no matter what you tried, you failed to settle them. Your anxiousness was a part of you best kept hidden. Worry and uncertainty were frequent companions of yours and they travelled alongside you wherever you went.

Finally, after some time, you decided to knock again as the chamber door swung open and you were greeted with yet another familiar friend.

“Y/N?” Roneus questioned, his eyes large and buggy.

It was as if you were the last person he expected to find behind the door as he heaved it towards himself. In all fairness, you were just as surprised to be greeted by him when you were preparing yourself for the likes of Odin.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

You were certain that he was wondering much the same for you.

But even if he did, he didn’t ask it. He said nothing. Instead, he gripped you by the shoulders and pulled you into the chamber with urgency. Then he slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

Your eyes wanted to keep their gaze on him but they couldn’t help themselves from travelling about the massive chamber that made those of the princes look miniature in comparison. You were taken aback by all the striking gold that drew across just about everything in the room—the floor, the walls, the pillars, the doors, the furniture. Even the bath that occupied its separate chamber was as auric as can be. It was only as Roneus started to speak that your attention returned to him.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” he began, panic stirring in his voice. You had never heard him sound quite so serious nor demanding. “You cannot be here.”

Your response escaped from your lips before you could even think it. “Why not?”

You searched his eyes for answers and when you came up short, you tried again, “What is going on?”

He drew a long breath as if to calm himself and then spoke. “There has been an attack on the palace.”

“An attack?” you recited as if you were his echo.

Then you blinked a few times to make sure this too wasn't just a dream, for being stood in the king and queen’s vast chamber certainty felt like it. But as you sensed Roneus’ hand reaching for yours, you knew this was far too real to be a figment of your imagination.

“We must get out of here,” he said, pulling you through the Odinsons’ chamber.

You kept your feet taunt to the ground, resisting Roneus’ tug on your body. Though he wasn’t as tall as Loki, he was built much in the same way Thor was, which was to say, broad and robust. If he really wanted to, he could toss you over his shoulder with ease and carry you out without much effort. But he was too much of a gentle giant to do such a thing. And so instead he stopped forcing you along and tried to reason.

“Y/N, you need to trust me. We have to leave from here and with haste.”

You shook your head.

“Not until you tell me what has happened.”

Roneus closed his eyes and let out an exhale. It was now a second attempt to calm himself as your reluctance continued to keep you two in the chamber. When he opened them again, his brown eyes were as dark as melanite.

“If I tell you, do I have your word that no matter what you will come with me?” he asked.

You didn’t even have to think twice. “You have my word.”

With your hand still in his, he told you what had happened in the middle of the night while you lay awake loathing yourself for casting Loki away.

“It was frost giants?” you repeated. “They stormed the palace?”

He nodded. “We were prepared to hold them off but I am unable to say if or when they will attack again. That is why we must leave at once.”

“But how did they enter without warning?” you asked. “Surely someone would have seen them approaching?”

Roneus pulled at your hand again.

“I have told you what has happened, now we must hurry.”

This time you didn’t resist. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t make a new proposal.

“Fine, but tell me everything as we go.”

And so he did. As the two of you ran through the corridors of the palace he recounted when the frost giants attacked. He told you of how they went undetected until they reached Odin and Frigga’s chamber. Roneus had been on duty at the time and with his men, they held the giants off. But before they retreated back to Jotunheim, they delivered a message.

“What was it?” you asked.

Roneus hesitated as if pondering whether to tell you. A simple nod of your head assuring him you could be trusted alleviated all worry.

Finally, he replied. “They said there was a traitor among us. And it was he who let them into the palace and led them to Odin.”

You stopped running and looked over at Roneus who paused alongside you.

“Do you have an inkling as to who it could be?”

Roneus didn’t answer, much like before. Rather, he turned from you as if to start moving again.

So you rephrased your question, “Do you know who this traitor is, Roneus?”

He shook his head. “You gave me your word, Y/N. You swore to follow me regardless of the answers you received.”

“And I have no intention of breaking it,” you said. “But if you know who it is, is it not in my best interests to be aware of it too?”

“No,” he answered. “Not under this circumstance.”

“What circumstance?” You huffed, taking a step towards him as if closing the space between you would make him confess all before you.

“I cannot say,” he said.

“Roneus!” “I am sorry.” “Just tell me!”

But he didn’t have to. Your answer was being drawn through the corridor adjacent to the one you found yourself standing in, and without even realizing it, you had a front-row seat to the action.

“How could you do this?” Thor’s voice was booming, it reverberated through the empty palace devoid of its usual tenants. “Not only to our people but to mother and father—they could have been killed!”

Anger was radiating off the God of Thunder, you could feel it as if it were a quake shaking the castle ground threatening to crumble the foundation that held the palace up. You couldn’t rationalize who was on the receiving end of his anger, even though the answer was as clear as crystal. It was only once you saw him, escorted by guards and bound by chains around his neck, his hands, his feet, that your heart felt as if it had stopped beating altogether.

“Loki.” His name was but a whisper in your mouth. It was so soft you were unsure if you had just thought it instead of projecting it into the air.

You turned to Roneus, panic thick in your voice. “What are they doing to him?”

And then it hit you as hard as a wrecking ball.

“They think Loki is the traitor?!”

Roneus placed his hand on the small of your back as if to comfort you.

“We should go.”

And this time you didn’t fight or hesitate. You let Roneus walk you to an armoured chamber where many of the other chambermaids and kitchen staff were sitting in hiding.

“Can I trust you to stay here?” Roneus asked as you sat yourself down on a concrete bench devoid of any of the other maids who were huddled together on the opposite side of the room.

You nodded your head. That was just about all you were able to do as Loki consumed your brain again but now for a completely different reason. It was no longer one of pleasure. It was instead fear and confusion. You wondered if Loki was as worried as you were for him. You lingered in your unrest unable to comprehend how Loki could have been chained up like some kind of wild beast and blamed for something he surely couldn’t have committed. Yes, he was brutish and improper but he was no villain. Was he? The more you sat alone in the chamber, Roneus’ presence a distant memory, you were growing more and more unsure. You tried to calm yourself as the steady whispers of gossiping chambermaids around you consumed your mind.

“I heard they caught him leading the giants to his father’s room,” one said, her gown worn beyond the state of repair.

Another with long brown hair twirled into a tight bun shook her head. “No that’s not true. I was told he was captured in his chamber, shameless after letting the giants walk right through the front entrance.”

“You are both wrong,” said the maid you had caught with Loki in his chamber far more times than you could count on two hands.

Your lips twisted in spite as you glared at her, picturing her hands all over his body. She was so used to touching him in all the right places and you hated yourself for being envious of it.

“Loki was walking to the palace at dawn. Why else would he not be in his chamber at the early hours of the morning as he usually is”—she twirled a strand of hair around her finger, a smirk dancing against her lips—“if not because he is guilty?”

You felt as if you could spill the contents of your stomach all over the floor as the realization hit you at once: this was your doing. If you would have just let Loki spend the night without your hostility, this could have all been avoided. Instead of being forced to walk to the palace at such an hour, he would have been laying beside you as you returned to your dreaming of him. And when you awoke, the first thing you would have seen were each other. You’re stomach flipped at the thought. But that was all hopeful wishing now. You couldn’t take back your choice—what you could do was help Loki.

He was innocent, at least you believed him to be. And fortunately for him, you could prove it. You were dizzy as you stood up with haste, adrenaline rushing to your brain. Charging towards the entrance of the room, you breezed past the chambermaids, their eyes glued in your direction. Your escape was in sight as you neared the door, all you needed to do was convince the man guarding the chamber.

“Sorry miss, ye must stay put,” said the guard whose back was pressed against the chamber entrance.

“But I am the chambermaid of Loki,” you began, the guard’s brows furrowing with each word that rolled off your tongue. “I must see that he is tended to.”

The guard snorted almost immediately. “I assure ye, where the prince is headin’ he shan’t be needin’ that.”

He used his index finger to point towards the ground and then smiled a toothy grin.

“He is in the dungeons?” you asked.

What else could his reference to below the chamber really have meant? You refused to let yourself ponder any further.

When he neither confirmed nor denied, you spoke again. “I insist I must go.”

He let out a full laugh this time. You had seen this guard many times before while roaming through the palace cleaning chamber to chamber. His name was unknown to you, but you could easily recognize him anywhere from his bushy red beard that took over the majority of his pudgy face.

“And I insist miss that ye sit back down,” he said.

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“Allow me to speak with prince Thor,” you reasoned with him. “I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding.”

“Weel why did ye not say that?” he asked. “Go right ahead.”

“Really?” you questioned in disbelief.

“No, ye halfwit. Seet back down before I make ye.”

And so you did. But not because he told you to or because he insulted you. Rather, you took your seat back on the bench because you had a backup plan and for it to work, you needed to be around the other chambermaids. Though you hated their entitlement and boastfulness, it was those exact traits that you were banking on to get you out.

“Pardon my ask,” you began addressing the three maids who sat closest to you. “I overheard you all earlier discussing the prince. How do you know he is guilty?”

The one you had recognized as Loki’s playmate scoffed in your direction. Her blue eyes were as sharp as ice as she took in the shape of you. Blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders perfectly. Her turquoise gown was immaculate, every wrinkle precisely ironed out until all that was left was the smoothness of the silky fabric. She was the embodiment of perfection, something you were told your whole life you could never be.

“Because I saw him,” she gloated, a smile brushing across her lips at the attention she was grabbing from all those around her by the mention of the prince.

And it wasn't hard to command the chamber given its parameter. It was much like all the other rooms in the palace, elegant and round. The mere difference was that it paled in size compared to the others. This guarded room was quite small, but that was certainly a conscious choice when it was built. After all, it served as nothing more than a safe chamber to keep its inhabitants protected while war waged on outside.

Another maid staring at the blonde with as much disdain as can be fit in a face wasn't so convinced of her tale. “You saw him?” she questioned.

The blonde didn't hesitate to respond, her superiority lucid. It reminded you so much of Loki that it almost repulsed you to know that he was practically sleeping with the female version of himself.

“I was to meet prince Loki in his chamber at dawn for our usual arrangement,” she said, still smiling. “It has been a regular occurrence of ours for quite some time now.”

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes too obnoxiously.

She continued with haste, “And when he was nowhere to be found, I began the walk back to my own chamber. That's when I heard a noise on the palace grounds and when I went to look, Loki was there sauntering in as if he were a feral creature on a rampage.”

“So you saw him lead the frost giants into the palace?” you asked, swallowing the guilt gathering in your throat.

She shook her head. “He was alone.”

“And why did you not stop him if you have as much sway over him as you claim?” asked one of the kitchen staff, overhearing the conversation. She was tiny in size, standing taller than that of a small child. But her might was as large as Asgard itself. “Think of how this mess could have been avoided if you weren't such a weakling!”

“A weakling?!” the blonde retorted. Her pleasant face began to redden with anger.

“Have you not heard what I said?” the small one sneered. “Or are you as dense as you look?”

And then it happened. Chaos ensued within the room, just as you had hoped for when igniting the conversation of Loki. It was chambermaids against cooks, an outright brawl snatching the attention of the only guard tasked with supervising the chamber.

“Maidens!” he shouted, charging toward them. “Yer uncivilized. Quit this madness at once, aye demand it!”

Now was your chance. With the door left unarmed, you were able to slip right through undetected and free yourself from that torture. It was bad enough having to work alongside the other maids daily, but to be forced into a small chamber with them was more than you were capable of bearing.

The sight of empty corridor after corridor was now a welcoming sight. Your feet continued to move you to the area of the palace you hoped to never see, and once you arrived there, you held your breath until you spotted him by his lonesome.

You passed transparent window after window, keeping your gaze to the floor as inmates called out to you. Their shrieks and comments were nightmarish and you flashed back to your first encounter with Loki on the front steps of the palace when he had convinced you to be his chambermaid.

Would he really have banished you to this unholy place as he threatened so long ago? Your brain relieved you of the answer as you approached his cell in the underground prison.

Your stomach fell as your eyes cast upon him. He was always so big and powerful. And yet in this cage, he was as small as you had ever seen him while being contorted into a ball against the wall. It was a stark contrast to the God who won over your household only hours ago.

“Loki,” you called out to him as soft as a whisper.

His head was hung low into his knees and it remained as such as you continued to call to him. Each of your breaths returning silence from him.

“Loki please,” you pleaded with him finally. “I am aware that I am the last person you wish to see but I—”

“You are right.” His voice was sharp and bitter as he interrupted you. He refused to make eye contact as he spoke, his head still drawn into his legs. “I do not wish to see you.”

You moved closer to the window, its radiating glow the only barrier between you. If you could walk right through it and comfort Loki, you would. But for now, distance would have to do.

“May I at least apologize?” you asked.

“No,” he replied. “I do not wish to hear it.”

You tried not to let your growing anger get the best of you. Another outburst was not what you needed as he lay idle in this cell.

“Then what is it that you wish to hear?” you said.

And then finally, he looked up at you. His green eyes so murky they resembled that of a night sky. “There is nothing to say. I wish you gone. I wish to not see you.”

A sharpness struck deeply in your chest. You had uttered those same words about Loki countless times. For as long as you worked at the palace, each day growing more irksome, the more you wished to not see him. And yet now that the exact sentiments were directed at you, you couldn't help the sadness filling in your throat.

“You do not mean that,” you said. “I am your chambermaid.”

“Not while I am sat in here,” he scoffed, “treated as that of a petty criminal.”

“And that is why I have come, Loki.” “To rescue me?” “Precisely!”

He let out a roaring laugh and when he was done, he spoke again. “Can you not see that you are not what I need?”

“That is where we disagree,” you argued. “I can prove your innocence. Loki, I will say that you were with me the whole night.”

“Just stop it,” he said defeated, burying his face into his legs again.

You shook your head. “I will not let you take the blame for something you have not done.”

It was no use, your words meant nothing to him.

“Loki, look at me,” you demanded.

You needed him to know how serious you were. That his reputation, his life, was not something you were willing to play with. But he refused to listen, and after the events of the night before, you couldn’t blame him for not trusting you.

You moved closer to the window, your nose only inches from its glowing surface. Though you couldn’t physically be beside him, you hoped that having your presence as close as possible would suffice.

“I will get you out of here,” you said, trying one last attempt to comfort him. “I will lie, even if I have to.”

Finally, that got his attention but not in the way you had hoped. Instead, it angered the God of Mischief and he let out a roar as you had never heard before.

“Stop it!” he shouted.

With a quick push of his hands, Loki was off the ground and charging toward you. There was a fury burning in his eyes. You couldn’t stop your body from taking a step back as he approached and you were all too grateful for the window keeping him from you.

“Do you not understand that it is all because of you!” he yelled, his fist slamming into the glowing barrier making the yellow glimmer ripple upwards. “I am in here because of you! And now you think that it can be you to get me out?!”

He was right, and you knew it. You couldn't challenge it. You couldn't even deny it. So instead you adopted it, accepting it as true and preparing yourself to deal with the consequences as they come.

You placed your hand on the window, right where his hand had been. The glowing resistance repealing your touch.

“I know,” you said, finally. “And I will see to it that you are out.”

Loki’s anger turned to hysterics and he burst into laughter.

“You honestly believe that you are to convince my father and brother to let me out?” he laughed.

You failed to find any of this funny.

“Yes, I do,” you answered. “Thor will listen to me.”

“Ah yes, because he is the listening type,” Loki sneered.

You released a breathy sigh and then swallowed your defeat. “All I need from you Loki is to trust me.”

But that was much easier said than done. You knew as well as him that your sentiments were nothing without action. And as quick as lightning struck, you knew what you had to do. It was foolish and risky. You would be compromising your position in the palace and the income supporting your family, for him. That was something he had yet to recognize—that this was all for him. And once it was done, you could only hope that you wouldn't linger with regret.

TO BE CONTINUED :))

Tag list:

@sunshineyrosie

@canihavetomhiddleston

@colorfulfreakstudentpizza

@huntress-artemiss

@suttonshomestead

@brokenhearted-me

@thedistractedagglomeration

@lokis-tigress

@lokischambermaid

@kai-thecoffeeaddict

@kittycattoys

@jaspearl31

@downbadsad

@unearthlydreams

@tjellisworld

@slut4fictionalcharacters28

@itscale

@trickster-maiden

@glitterylokislut

@nonsensicalobsessions

@lokisgoddessofwar

@makingtimemine

@christineblood

@lokis-little-love

@apheliius

If anyone else would like to be tagged, let me know and I’ll be more than happy to add you to the list! :)

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

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May I also get in on this desperate measures tagging action? I’m hooked

Absolutely!! 🥰 I’m so glad you’re enjoying it :)

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

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Will do!! 🥰

Oh dear 🥵 I read desperate measure in one go and now I need more. Can I be added to the taglist? 😅

Awww thanks so much for reading, I’m so happy you like it!!! ❤️ I’ll absolutely add you to the tag list! I’m taking a little bit of a writing break but I’ll try to get out the next part as soon as possible! :))

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

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Oh dear 🥵 I read desperate measure in one go and now I need more. Can I be added to the taglist? 😅

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

Text

Desperate Measure | Loki x Reader (Part 5)

A/N: Hello again! I wanted to thank everyone for their patience in waiting for this fifth part to be released. Desperate Measures is so much fun to write and this chapter was particularly enjoyable! Since I made y’all wait so long, I decided to make this part a lil spicy. I really hope you all like it. ;)

If you haven't yet, be sure to check out the previous parts:

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

As always, Happy Reading! :)

Summary: Your mother insists on extending an invitation to the God of Mischief as you and your family are set to celebrate your father’s birthday. On the menu is beef stew, porridge and a little helping of you. ;)

Warning: Fluffy, light smut—but still very much 18+

Word count: 4054 (sorry, it’s quite lengthy)

You didn’t think you could ever hate someone. It was a strong emotion, far too harsh for you to feel towards another. But as you stood in your front garden watching Loki ogle over your family, you were certain that you hated him.

“Your highness, to what do we owe this pleasure?” your mother asked, descending the front steps of your modest home.

Loki who once stood tall in the distance, a gallant silhouette in the setting sun, had now moved to your side. He had followed you from the palace and you were still shaking with anger. Loki had embarrassed you in front of Thor and his friends as if it were nothing of importance to him, and now he was trying to slither his way into meeting your family. No, you wouldn't allow it. And yet you still found yourself holding in a gasp as he moved closer to you, his hip just grazing yours. The subtle contact was enough to make the nerves throughout your being go haywire—you hated how your body could so easily betray your emotions.

“I do not wish to intrude,” Loki answered, his tone well-mannered. He was putting on the theatrics, his polished words matching his valiant facade. “I only wished to see that my chambermaid returned to her residence safely.”

Your mother smiled sweetly, “How kind.”

She was buying his performance and you would have too if Loki hadn’t already shown you his true self, which was undeniably brash, coarse and true to his title, mischievous.

“Oh please do join us for supper,” your mother sung, her voice light as a hummingbird.

Your eyes pleaded with her to stop, to take back her words. But it was useless, her mind was already made. She walked over to your father and nudged him softly.

Your father cleared his throat. “Yes, it would be an honour to have you as our guest.”

You turned to Loki, his eyes a shimmering shade of emerald.

“I’m sure your duties at the palace far surpass a simple dinner in the outskirts of Asgard,” you said. It was your attempt to have Loki be anywhere but mixed amongst your household. “If you hurry now you shall make it back for a grand feast prepared by the kitchen.”

“Y/N,” your mother called to you. She spoke with haste and the slightest hint of anger. “May I have a word?”

You didn’t turn to look at her. Your eyes were fixed upon Loki’s as if you both were exchanging words without the need to move your lips.

“Before that,” Loki said, his focus still on you, “may I speak?”

When only silence return his request, he turned from you. You choked down the unhappiness that was beginning to build in your throat now that his eyes were elsewhere. It was peculiar, how one moment you could loathe the God of Mischief and the next you wished to be the only person he devoted his attention to. Perhaps, you hated your mixed emotions most.

“May I?” he tried again, his gaze this time directed towards your parents.

Your mother curtseyed slightly. “Yes, of course.”

“Y/N is quite right. I should be on my way back to the palace,” Loki said.

Your ears perked as he spoke.

He continued, “It was a pleasure to meet your acquaintances. I do hope to stay longer on my next visit.”

Next visit? His words angered you and yet they also made your stomach fluster as if it were infested with cocoons preparing to hatch into butterflies.

But your mother, she didn’t have such a response. You watched as the smile on her face bowed into a grimace. She was disappointed largely by your doing that Loki was to depart and it pained you to see it. Yes, you hated Loki. But you loved your mother far more to put your sentiments on the backburner. You swallowed hard, knowing you would come to regret the words you would utter next. You faced towards Loki who had just started to walk from you and into the distance where he had come.

“Loki!” you called after him.

He turned in an instant, meeting your longing gaze. A breeze blew past him, sending his long hair rippling to the side. Now, this wasn't an act. As you stood before Loki you were in awe of how noble he appeared. Was this what you had so long seemed to miss? Was this gloriousness the mere virtue that sent every chambermaid in the palace pining after him? Were you pining after him? No, you shook the thought. You couldn't ponder such things with Loki’s eyes tracing every inch of you as if you stood bare before him.

You drew a long exhale and then finally spoke, “Stay.”

And so he did, without hesitation or reserve. Loki had taken to your family with ease as if he had known them his entire life, and they the same.

The twins kept Loki company as you helped your mother prepare dinner. She was making your father’s favourite: beef stew and buttered carrots. And for dessert, apple porridge.

“You failed to speak of Prince Loki’s charm,” your mother said, adding chunks of beef to the boiling pot. “He is very handsome.”

“Charm?” you repeated, speaking with uncertainty as you chopped carrots and added them to a smaller pot of water.

“I may be devoted to your father, but I can still use my eyes.” “Mother!” “What? ‘Tis the honest truth.”

You paused your chopping and turned to her.

“Lower your voice,” you whispered. “Loki will hear you and it shall only inflate his large head.”

This made your mother laugh.

“I know what you are meaning to do,” your mother taunted.

You placed the pot on the stove and lit the burner.

“And what might that be?” you answered.

The kitchen was already beginning to fill with the aroma of meat and potatoes. It must have wafted through your home drawing every nostril in your home towards it.

“You deny that you feel any attraction towards him,” she replied.

“Mother!” you protested. “I do not wish to speak of this any further, especially with you.”

Your mother moved towards you, rubbing a comforting hand along your arm.

“‘Tis only natural to have these feelings, the embarrassment you hold is needless,” she assured.

You could no longer stand this head-shrinking. You abandoned the boiling carrots and turned from her hastily only for your eyes to lock with Loki’s who stood at your kitchen door with the twins to his side, a pompous smirk coiling at his lips.

If you could run and hide, you would. You were unsure of how much of the conversation he had overheard, but it clearly was enough to make him smug. The humiliation you felt was tangible, it radiated off you. It could be bottled up and peddled, marked as the shame of a chambermaid helplessly exposed before her master. People would give their limbs for a piece of the indecency.

“Please excuse me,” you announced, your voice sounding but a mere whisper.

You pushed past your siblings at the doorway, your body brushing Loki with the motion. You moved with great haste, wishing to be anywhere but trapped in your home with the God you yearned to rid yourself of. But that was as foolish as wishing for rain in a drought.

There was a knock at the door as you settled yourself on the twins’ cot.

“I do not wish to speak to anyone,” you declared. This time, your sound was loud and firm.

The door pushed open and your mother appeared behind it. She walked towards you and stood by the cot.

“May I?” she asked, regarding the empty space to your left.

You nodded and she sat.

“I am—” she started and then paused. She took your hand in hers and tried again, “I am terribly sorry, my darling.”

You remained quiet as she continued, “I made no intentions to discomfort you. And if you wish it, I shall address it with prince Loki and insist that it was not he who I spoke of.”

You shook your head. “No, it is already done.”

“Y/N...” your mother began but you quickly stopped her.

“I am fine,” you assured. “Let us have this dinner so I may rid myself of this day with haste.”

“Y/N,” she repeated as you pushed yourself off the cot.

You could hear her follow behind you as you strolled into the kitchen to meet an unlikely sight.

“Have you ever done this before, your highness?” Brina asked, her question directed to Loki who was stirring the pot of stew atop the boiler.

Loki lowered himself towards her.

“I'm afraid not,” he replied, “so if I ruin the meal do be sure to tell your sister it was not I.”

Brina let out a giggle, one as sweet as honey. You tried to remain collected in your shame, but you couldn't resist the smile that curved your lips upward.

Holger whose attention was only moments ago devoted to your buttered carrots had shifted towards you in the doorway.

“Y/N, are mother and father ready?” he asked. “I am entirely famished, I could eat a family of cows myself.”

“Holger!” Brina shouted.

“What?” he shrugged, “‘tis the truth.”

But you had no protests. You were far too preoccupied with Loki’s eyes who had spotted you the moment Holger called your name. They lacked his usual sparkle of deviousness and instead were replaced with something you had never seen in them before, concern. Though you stand feet apart, he was studying you carefully as if making sure you were alright.

You had far lost your appetite. If it weren't for your father’s birthday, you would have retreated to solitude. But instead you took your usual seat between the twins at the dinner table. Loki sat across from you, seated between your parents. He threw gentle smiles toward you as he conversed with your parents about topics you couldn't care to remember. Your unconditional attention was fixed upon Loki. There were so many things you hadn't noticed about him before, like the way his eyes glistened when he talked of Asgard or how he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear when he chose humility over his typical boastfulness—be it because you were far too busy to see it or you just didn't want to notice them at all. For if you did, you too would be under his intoxicating spell and you couldn't allow that. You already had conflicting feelings toward the God of Mischief, you didn't need another layer to tangle them further.

४ ४ ४

When supper had ended and you toasted your father to another year of life, you were happy that the evening was coming to an end.

“Thank you for the lovely dinner,” Loki said to your mother as he helped you collect all the dishes for washing.

“You’re quite welcome, your highness,” your mother answered from the sink. “But please, do not worry yourself with such chores. Y/N and I shall clear the table.”

You chimed in, “Yes, Loki, you shall be on your way if you wish to make it back to the palace at a civil time.”

Loki reached for the stack of dirty plates in your hands and added to his own.

“Let me help,” he said, “then I shall depart.”

Your heart felt as if it would leap right out of your chest. You had no idea who this new Loki was but you refused to question it knowing that tomorrow everything shall go back to normal, and worst of all, you will be met with Loki’s indecent self once again—what you failed to realize in the moment was how soon that would be.

Loki placed the plates beside your mother and then he began to roll up his sleeves.

“Please, allow me,” he said.

You joined them at the sink and softly pressed a hand to your mother’s back.

“And I shall dry,” you added. “Go join papa in the sitting room, we shall take care of this.”

Your mother remained glued to the floor her eyes shifting between you and Loki. Then she relaxed.

“Well alright,” she said, finally. “Thank you, your highness.”

Loki smiled, “It is my pleasure.”

Silence filled the small room once your mother took her leave. Loki ran the dishes under the water and you passed a towel over them until they were dry. Once there were no more dishes to be washed or put away, you turned to Loki.

“Thank you for not being an utter imbecile tonight,” you said.

His wicked smirk returned to his face. You almost missed the way it coiled at the edges of his lips.

“Come, I'll walk you out,” you said, taking his hand in yours.

Goosebumps raced up your arm and travelled all over your skin at the contact.

“Mother! Loki is departing!” you called out as you reached the front door.

Your family came racing towards you and you freed your hand from Loki’s grip.

“It is quite late, Vernon, is it not?” your mother said, addressing your father.

“It is indeed,” he responded.

Your mother turned to you. “Perhaps Loki should depart in the morning when the sun is out and the way back is clear.”

You shook your head slightly at your mother.

“That shall not be necessary,” Loki answered. “I assure you I have trekked to the palace from further distances in harsher conditions.”

Your mother frowned.

“Well I insist you stay, just until morning,” she said. “I shall never live with myself if something were to happen to you.”

You couldn’t help by let out a snort. “Mother, he is a God.”

The words brought pleasure to Loki who slyly placed his hand on your back and slid it lower until it grazed at your behind and you stifle a gasp.

You sighed. “Mother, what I mean to say is that Loki shall—”

“Stay,” he said, completing your sentence.

All eyes fell on Loki, especially yours which searched his face for the slightest hint of what he was plotting. So that when he took his strike, you weren’t left completely dumbfounded.

“‘Tis wonderful news, I shall go prepare our room for you,” your mother gleamed. “Vernon and I shall rest with the children.”

“There’s no need for such trouble,” Loki began, then he turned to face you, “Y/N mentioned to me that she rests with Holger and Brina. I shall do the same.”

You protested, “But they have but a mere cot in which I don’t even fit. Surely you’d prefer to sleep in your own bed at the palace.”

Loki shook his head. “I do not mind.”

You exhaled deeply.

“But I do not even sleep on the cot.” “I am aware.” “Loki, I don’t think you understand.” “I do.” “I sleep on the floor.” “Then as shall I.”

And to your surprise, he did.

You had readied both Holger and Brina for sleep. They donned their nightgowns and tucked themselves under the bedsheets. You kissed their foreheads and wished them a goodnight. Then you met Loki who stood patiently outside their room.

“Come with me to grab extra sheets,” you said, brushing your hand against his.

He followed you silently through the main corridor of your home until you reached the linen closet. You grabbed at two pairs of freshly washed sheets.

You placed them in Loki’s arms. “This shall do.”

Then you reached for two white pillows squished onto the highest shelf.

“Allow me,” Loki whisphered.

His breath was hot against your neck as he reached around you to place the sheets in your hand. His long arms stretched high above you, clutching the pillows with ease. He brought them down into your grasp, his arms wrapped around your body as he stood behind you.

“Loki.” His name rolled off your tongue as a breathy murmur.

He spun you around gently, the movement achingly slow until you were face to face. Loki took the sheets from you and tossed them on the ground, the pillows along with them. He filled the space between you, his entire front pressed against yours.

"Tell me what you want,” he spoke softly.

Loki drew his thumb across your lips and they parted slightly as if to speak. With each of his touches across your skin, the words you wished to say were confined to your throat. He was making your body feel things you had never experienced before. Even though you hated to admit it, you wanted him closer. No, you needed him closer.

“I—” you began as he brought his lips to your neck.

He pecked your skin gently, sending chills up and down your spine. Just this contact alone could have you giving yourself over to him, but you stopped before anything could progress further.

“We can’t do this,” you whispered as he searched your eyes.

He grabbed both your hands. “Why not?”

You freed yourself from his grasp and reached for the linen on the floor. When you were finally upright again, you spoke. “We should rest.”

Loki’s shadow trailed behind you as you walked back to your bedroom. Your steps were gentle so as to not wake the twins who were likely already cuddled together in a night’s sleep. Slowly, you pushed open the door and arranged the pillows on the floor with some tasteful distance between each. You took the cushion closest to the twin’s cot and Loki took the other. He frowned as you flung the sheet open into the air, it then gracefully floated down to cover your body. You tossed the other to him and he did the same, with far less grace.

“Goodnight,” you sighed.

He didn’t return it. Instead, he rolled onto his side, his back to you. Thor is right, you thought. Loki is a big Godbaby.

Your eyes traced up and down his back until they tired. It must have been mere minutes that you drifted, for when you opened your eyes again, Loki was on his side towards you resting sweetly.

You smiled at him. “Are you asleep?”

His eyes fluttered open.

“Not anymore,” he replied.

You sat up and moved your pillow closer to his. Then you scooted over, dragging the sheet along with you.

“What do you mean to be doing?” he whispered as you lay together, noses inches from each other.

“Apologizing,” you breathed against his lips, “for earlier.”

He furrowed his brows and you dulled any confusion.

“Because I should have done this,” you said, pressing your mouth to his.

Without hesitation, he kissed you back. It was as if a match had been struck, passion igniting with it. His hands traced along every inch of you much like yours did him. This felt easy, innate. Being entwined with Loki was as effortless as breathing.

“I have yearned for this since my first sight of you,” Loki whispered, drawing kisses across your collarbone.

He left wet adorations down your body, over top your sleeping gown until he reached your stomach. He hadn't even touched your skin and yet you were still trembling with desire. Loki slipped one arm under your dress, hiking the fabric up your chest and then up over your head.

“The twins,” you tried to say, breathless by his devotion to you.

“They can't see us,” he said. “Nor can they hear us. And I intend on making you shout my name into the night.”

He nuzzled himself in between your thighs, kissing up and down your legs.

“Loki!” you gasped loudly and then calmed yourself. “I don't understand how they cannot hear us.”

He popped his head up from your center to look you in the eyes. “It is as you said, I am a God.”

And that he was. Loki had you shouting at the top of your lungs as he worked your body. Your yelps had yet to wake the twins nor your parents who were only a room away. Once he saw how near you were to screaming his name for the fifth time straight, he stopped. He began to crawl up towards your face, his hair soaked from exertion, had started to curl in black spirals that fell in front of his eyes. You could release all over just from his look of hunger alone.

He kissed your lips as you ran your hands down his front until you reached the most intimate part of him. Loki let out a growl at the sensation and a smile grew across your face. You used all your strength to push yourself up and in one swift movement rolled Loki over so that you were now on top, straddling him.

“Tell me what you want,” you said, mocking his earlier sentiments.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice gentle as a whisper.

You grinned wider. “Say it.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, this time a little louder.

You felt your body tremble as if you were being shaken.

“Tell me what you want!” you demanded.

He was making you angry. You knew he liked to be the one in control but he was refusing to play along altogether. If he was acting this disobedient as some sort of wicked game, you wished to not play it any longer.

“Y/N.” Another whisper of your name.

You closed your eyes trying to calm your growing resentment. And when you reopened them you were no longer atop Loki. You found yourself back on your bedroom floor and when you scanned the room, the twins were still asleep in the cot. And as you peered further you caught the sight of Loki beside you. He rested his hand on your shoulder gently shaking you.

“Stop it,” you whispered, toggling between hostility and confusion.

“You're telling me to stop it?” Loki laughed quietly. “You are the one who wouldn’t stop shouting my name in your sleep.”

You could feel your cheeks redden more and more by the second as you came back to consciousness and realized where you are.

“Amuse me with what you imagined so I can do the just the same while you're awake,” he taunted.

Any trace of desire still floating about your body had turned to anger. This was the Loki you were used to and you were a fool to think that his charmingness towards your family was anything but a guise.

“Get out,” you mumbled.

“It is but the middle of the night,” he countered.

“I'm quite certain you are used to trekking to the palace at such an hour.” “And what shall your parents say when I am no longer here in the morning.” “I will say that you had urgent business in the palace to tend to.”

He laughed softly. “Why are you making me the villain? Was I that terrible in your dream? Because I assure if it were actually me I would not disappoint.”

“Loki please,” you begged.

“Or if this is because of what your mother said earlier, I vow to you that I have long known of your attraction towards me,” he boasted. “It is not news to me.”

Your feelings of anger towards Loki had quickly turned to humiliation and you longed for him to be gone. You wished him far from the refuge you could retreat to when he acted his most pretentious self.

You shook your head on the brink of tears. “Please, just leave.”

Without another objection, he did. Loki left your room with haste and you listened as your front door opened and then closed with a soft thud.

Had it really all just been a dream?

You refused to accept it as such as you lay awake, sleep now a distant memory. Being with Loki even if only in a fantasy, had felt so carefree. It made you tremble with sheer desire. Now as the floor beside you lay vacant, Loki’s smell still lingering in the air, you were mad at yourself for turning on him so quickly. You dreaded returning to the palace tomorrow morn for fear of Loki’s retaliation. And worst of all, you weren't sure how you could ever look him in the face again now that he’s heard you call out his name in pleasure without the need to even touch you. It only reaffirmed to Loki what he craved most: power over you. And yet it be the one thing you wished remained secret so you could keep your leverage over him.

What would be of you come tomorrow? You ached to find out.

TO BE CONTINUED :))

Tag list:

@sunshineyrosie

@canihavetomhiddleston

@colorfulfreakstudentpizza

@huntress-artemiss

@suttonshomestead

@brokenhearted-me

@thedistractedagglomeration

@lokis-tigress

@lokischambermaid

@kai-thecoffeeaddict

@kittycattoys

@jaspearl31

@downbadsad

@unearthlydreams

@tjellisworld

@slut4fictionalcharacters28

If anyone else would like to be tagged, let me know and I’ll be more than happy to add you to the list! :)

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

Text

Desperate Measures | Loki x Reader (Part 4)

A/N: Hey y’all! I wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who’s read this story, I truly appreciate every single one of you. Desperate Measures literally manifested from a random daydream I had a while back and I never could have imagined that it would garner this much traction, so thank you all again. I’m not super in love with this chapter, but nonetheless, I hope you all still enjoy it! (The next part will definitely be more exciting! *Hint* *Hint* ;) )

And if you haven't yet, be sure to check out the previous parts:

Part One Part Two Part Three

Happy Reading! :)

Summary: With permission from the Queen of Asgard, you’re allowed to leave your shift at the palace early to attend your father’s birthday dinner and Loki is adamant on inviting himself.

Word count: 3136

A warm breeze kissed your cheek as you sat under an oak tree, its shade sheltering you from the blistering summer sun. You were somewhere in the palace’s garden reading, but you couldn't pinpoint exactly where you were in the massive estate. The land stretched on for miles with green grass and daffodils as far as you could see. You picked a spot no one could find—or at least that's what you believed until a voice called out for you and you stood to your feet almost instantly.

“I thought I might find you here,” Roneus said as he approached you.

“I'm sorry,” you began, closing the book on your finger so you wouldn't lose the page. “I was just taking a break.”

“Ahh, I see. And I imagine the balconies weren’t adequate for such a task?” Roneus let out, his words coated with a playfulness he only seemed to have around you.

You shook your head. “Not when the other chambermaids discuss about me as if I were not even there.”

Roneus sighed deeply, letting the sound trail alongside his warm breath.

You studied him head to toe, observing the soft black leather that draped his body, gold details accenting his chest and shoulder blades. It was the uniform of any other guard in the palace but his was pristine as if it had yet to see the trials of battle.

“Walk with me,” he said, extending his hand to you.

You straightened out the wrinkles in your gown, and then took it.

“Isn’t the palace that way?” you asked, turning to look behind you.

“Yes, but we are not going back to the palace just yet,” he answered.

You furrowed your brows at him and a gentle smile sat upon his face.

“Walk with me,” he repeated. “And then we will head back towards the palace.”

Even though you were weary, you wandered through the grass with him. Roneus had never given you any reason not to trust him, and yet that didn't stop you from being cautious. After all, having faith in the goodness of others was not your strong suit. Everyone had ulterior motives for the things they did; what made Odin’s head guard an exception?

“Prince Loki has taken quite the liking to you,” he said as you passed a family of monarch butterflies fluttering over a patch of yellow flowers.

You snorted. “If his way of exhibiting affection was embarrassment and mockery, I'd go so far as to say he was in love with me.”

Roneus laughed softly, his sweet sound like soothing rain on a gloomy afternoon.

“Yes, Loki has his faults,” he said, “but I assure you Miss Y/L/N, Loki has never kept one chambermaid for as long as he has you.”

This made you halt in your tracks. You turned towards Roneus. “Well, then I apologize for limiting him to just one.”

Roneus smiled again. It suited him, smiling. “Prince Loki is not as bad as he is made out to seem.”

You started walking again, welcoming the feeling of long blades of grass brushing against your ankles.

“Roneus, I have only known Loki for a little over a month, and ‘bad’ does not even begin to describe him,” you said, and then took a breath, ready to unleash what you had been keeping to yourself since accepting the position. “He is arrogant and brash, and frankly, shameless. He has no respect for others, especially chambermaids, and he demands the whole world on a silver platter. And I will tell you this, Roneus—I refuse to give it to him.”

“And you shouldn’t.” “And if he thinks that I—Wait, you agree with me?” “I do.” “Why?” “Well, you’ve said it all yourself: Loki is arrogant and brash, and frankly, shameless.”

Roneus stopped to look at you. You paused with him.

“But in many ways, I believe Loki to be quite similar to you,” he said.

“To me?” you asked. “How so?”

“It would be far too easy if I told you,” he answered, and then turned from you.

He started towards the palace, forcing you to hurry after him.

“Roneus!” you shouted. “How are we similar?”

“I also believe you will figure that out in due time,” he said, still racing through the garden.

“Will you at least slow down?” you laughed, nearly out of breath.

“You've got a chamber to clean and I've got a king to protect,” he answered. “Neither of us should be late.”

And you weren't. You and Roneus entered the palace a little past noon, saying your farewells and then departing your own ways. You were headed to the chamber you dreaded visiting most, home to the God you hoped was anywhere but his private quarters.

You pushed open his chamber door and sighed, beggars couldn't be choosers.

“Did you enjoy your garden date?” Loki asked as you entered.

You spotted him almost instantaneously. He was on his bed, tossing an iron cup into the air.

“I was reading, Loki,” you answered.

“My apologies, I didn't realize you require another to read a book to you,” he sneered—his back still against his mattress, the cup soaring high into the air, gravity then pulling it back down towards his palm. “If I had known, I would've offered my own services.”

You wanted to start another fight with Loki just for that comment alone but you bit your lip to stop the words from spilling out. There was no room for complications, not today. You walked to his bed and yanked at the sheets below him as if it were the universal sign for “get off the bed.” The tugging beneath him made his arm twitch, sending the cup in his hand flying across the room.

“Hey!” he shouted as the cup hit the ground with a clang and bounced a few times until it rolled to a stop.

“I need to change them,” you said.

He sat up and bunched the sheets in between his fingers, keeping them taut to his body the more you yanked. “But I have yet to even make a mess of them.”

You laughed. “I’m inclined to disagree, especially with the number of chambermaids coming in and out of here as if it were your own personal brothel.”

Loki let go of his bedsheets and slid towards you at the end of his bed. Even sitting, Loki was just as massive in comparison to you—his face inches from yours, legs spread around your thighs.

“Oh, I see what this is,” he taunted. “You're jealous.”

You took a step back, creating some much-needed space between you.

“Me jealous?” you laughed, “Loki if I recall correctly, you were the one bothered that I was in the garden with your father’s guard.”

“So it was a date! And with Roneus? Really?” Loki spat. “I'd at least expect you to be with someone more—”

“Single?” you finished his sentence. “Yes, I've noticed the ring on his finger.”

Loki shook his head. “I was going to say God-like.”

You said nothing more than demand him off the bed. “Up.”

He obliged, and as you worked, he couldn’t help but watch your every movement. It was as if he were stargazing and you were a constellation, his eyes tracing the outlines of all your bright lights.

“Look who’s ogling now?” you teased when you were done.

You walked towards him, his old bedsheets rolled into a ball at your chest.

“And mockery is the sincerest form of flattery,” he flaunted.

You ignored him and walked towards his chamber door. Then you stopped and spun around.

“I won't be at supper this evening,” you said. “I just thought you should know.”

Loki’s eyes flickered for a brief moment, you could see the flash of emerald even from so far away. You had piqued his curiosity and now he needed answers.

His flirtatious smile returned to his lips. “May I ask why?”

“No,” you answered, your response as sharp as his tongue.

He took a few steps towards you. This was what he did, everything was an intimidation tactic.

“Y/N.” Your name flowed off his tongue sensually as if he got pleasure out of just saying it aloud.

“If you must know, my mother is having a birthday dinner for my father and I would like to attend,” you confessed, telling him the truth in the hopes that he wouldn't come any closer. “I informed Frigga yesterday.”

Loki moved towards you anyway until his body felt like a hair’s breadth from yours, then he tsked. “And yet you failed to inform me.”

“I'll make sure to do so next time, your highness,” you sneered, curtsying him.

“That will not do,” he said, tracing his hand along your arm and then down your hip. “I could have you doing many gruelling tasks tomorrow as punishment for keeping me oblivious.”

“I did no such thing, Loki!” you protested.

His hand grazed against your behind and you gasped. That made him smile. “I beg to differ.”

“What do you mean to be getting at?” you asked. There was more anger than blood flowing through your veins. “I’m quite well aware of how you play these games.”

Loki’s laugh filled the space around you. It was suffocating, backing you into his chamber door.

“I want to come.”

You bit your tongue to suppress your own laughter.

“You want to come to my father’s birthday dinner?” you questioned, largely in disbelief.

“I’ll meet you at the entrance of the palace when you are to leave,” he said as he opened his chamber door and ushered you out.

“But I haven't said yes,” you countered.

“And yet you haven't said no,” he replied, finally pushing you out into the corridor.

Then he shut the door, ending the conversation as if you had no choice in the matter. But if you were being honest, what choice did you really have? Loki always got what he wanted and for some ungodly reason, he had his sight on you—and all the worse, your family.

४ ४ ४

Loki was all you could think about as you went about the rest of your duties. He held your mind hostage as you washed his sheets. You were consumed with the thought of him mingling with your siblings as you swept Thor’s chamber. Even your delivery to the kitchen of fresh potatoes plucked by farmers from nearby farmlands was riddled with worry of how Loki would react to your simple upbringing.

Eventually, the end of your shift came and you found yourself approaching the palace’s entrance praying to the gods that Loki would go back on his word.

“Leaving so soon?” a voice somewhere in the courtyard addressed you, curbing your racing thoughts.

It took you a few moments to locate the voice’s owner. He was leaning against the grand railing at the bottom of the entrance steps surrounded by a group of Asgardian warriors you’ve passed on occasion while roaming through the palace. The wind blew the golden hair out of his eyes, the sun beaming a ray of light upon his face. It was as if divinity was illuminating him just for you to see.

He watched you descend the stairs towards him. Then he pushed his way through the warriors, all of their eyes falling on you. His charming smile made you blush as he approached.

“I hope it was not something I did to make you depart this early in the afternoon,” he said through his grin.

You met his smile. “No, you’ve done nothing of the sort.”

Thor reached for your hand and helped you walk down the rest of the steps. He moved you towards the warriors made up of three men almost as equally large as the God of Thunder himself. Beside them, a woman with flowy black hair that fell past her shoulders whose dominant presence could command any room.

There wasn’t an inch of you that their eyes hadn’t traced. Their stares were piercing as Thor introduced you. “I would like you all to meet Y/N.”

Then he named them all to you one at a time, left to right.

“This is Volstagg—he looks big and tough, but I assure you he’s harmless. This is Fandral who will at some point try to lure you to his chamber in which I suggest you run the other way,” he said, laughing at the red that flushed upon Fandral’s cheeks. “This is Hogun. Don’t let his reservedness fool you, he’s really a big softy. And this is Lady Sif. She is the best warrior, I have ever known.”

Each smiled at you and you politely grinned back. It was moments like these, standing beside people who were actually making a difference for Asgard that made you feel most out of place. You could never compare to them, not when the most daring part of your typical day was arguing with the God of Mischief.

Lady Sif gazed at Thor, her eyes asking the question her words wouldn’t: who were you and why should any of them really care?

You wanted to provide the answer yourself. You’d explain that you were just a chambermaid and you were no more special than any other who kept the palace tidy. But Thor beat you to it.

“She is my chambermaid,” he said, his lips dripping with pride.

“No brother, I think you’re gravely mistaken,” spoke the God who was eating away at your forebrain. His entire being an infection, one you had yet to find the cure to. “She is mine.”

Sif laughed. It was loud, obnoxious. “Now this makes more sense.”

Loki took your hand into his and whisked you away from Thor.

“Sorry to end this little gathering, but we’ve places to be,” he sneered.

“Loki stop,” you whispered to him, trying to discreetly free yourself from his grasp.

“But we’ll be late to your father’s dinner,” he announced, much louder than was necessary.

He was doing this on purpose as if it were his twisted stab at a punishment. You watched the smile quickly vanish from Thor’s lips and a pang of guilt struck your abdomen.

“It was lovely to meet you all,” you said as Loki pulled you further.

“Likewise,” they spoke in unison.

Then you looked at Thor, your eyes trying to tell him how sorry you were.

“Tomorrow, I swear to be all yours!” you shouted, Thor now just a figure in the distance.

“I think not,” Loki breathed into the side of your head. “I won’t allow—”

“I don’t want you to come!” you interrupted him.

You were angry. No, livid. And if Loki had even an ounce of decency in his body he would have respected your demands; he would have taken your feelings into consideration. But the truth was meek: Loki didn’t have civility. He was ruthless and cold, and you wanted no more of it.

“Fortunately, that’s not yours to say,” he taunted. He always took pleasure in making you miserable.

“Yes it bloody is!” you shouted, ripping your hand from his. “I don’t want you around my family!”

His face twitched for a second, you had struck him where it hurt.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just upset,” he reasoned, much more to himself than you.

“I mean every word,” you scoffed. “Just leave me be.”

Loki didn't fight or try to stop you. He let you walk away from him until you were out of sight. And soon the palace was but mere scenery behind you as you ventured into the outskirts of Asgard.

The open fields, dirt roads, serene stillness—that’s what you were used to so far from the main city, and you welcomed the feeling of ridding yourself of the palace’s busyness. You took a deep inhale. Finally, you were able to breathe.

४ ४ ४

Your father was the first to greet you when you arrived home. He was out gardening the narrow strip of dirt that framed the steps to your front door. Only a few flowers ever grew, but it was enough for your father to tend.

“Y/N!” he shouted as he spotted you walking through the grass. You ran into his open arms, suddenly missing the feeling of his comforting embrace. You could stay there forever if he’d let you. “What are you doing here?”

You smiled up at him. “I’m here for you, papa.”

“And your work?” he asked.

“I’m finished for the day,” you replied.

He squeezed you tighter.

“I’m glad you’re here, darling.” “Me too, papa.”

Your younger siblings—a set of twins—came next, sprinting out of your front door to meet you on the lawn.

“Y/N!” they exclaimed, their voices soft like a lullaby.

“I’ve missed you both so much,” you said, as they squeezed themselves into your embrace.

It had felt so long since you’ve all been together. Working at the palace meant early mornings and late nights which saw you entering and leaving your home when the twins were off dreaming.

“I’ve missed you, Y/N!” shouted Holger, the eldest of the two, into your chest.

“I’ve missed you more!” Brina countered, crushing your midriff with her tight hold.

They were constantly in competition, arguing over who could eat the fastest or sketch the best butterfly. And you were left in the middle, forced to play scorekeeper.

“You can both miss me,” you assured them.

You were also used to playing mediator.

“Y/N!” your mother called from the front porch. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”

“Queen Frigga—” you began, becoming quickly distracted by Holger and Brina pulling at your gown. You ignored them and continued, “Queen Frigga allowed me to leave early.”

“How kind of her,” your mother said, her voice overshadowed by the twins whispering your name.

“I’m speaking to mother, stop it,” you mumbled at them.

Your mother continued her thought, “Do be sure to thank her from us.”

You nodded. “I shall.”

There was more whispering below you and tugging at your dress that you did your best to disregard until finally you couldn’t any longer.

“Y/N!” Holger shouted.

“Yes!” you yelled back at last, mostly in anger. “You have my attention.”

Brina held up her hand, her finger pointing behind you.

“Who is that?” she asked.

You turned to look. In the distance, stood a figure you could recognize from his presence alone. Even if your eyes were closed, your body would have a physical response to breathing in the same air as him.

“Children, curtsy!” your mother shouted from the front door, instructing the three of you to bow before the prince.

You could hear the motion of the twins dropping to a knee. But you stood tall as he approached.

“You followed me here?” you sneered, your voice only loud enough for Loki to hear.

But it didn’t matter. He ignored you altogether, a smile pulling at his lips. “What an exquisite family you have.”

TO BE CONTINUED ;)

——————————————————————————————————

Thank you again to everyone who’s read Desperate Measures this far!

Below I’m tagging those who’ve left me such wonderful comments as well as those who’ve asked to be kept updated. :)

@sunshineyrosie

@lokis-tigress

@lokischambermaid

@canihavetomhiddleston

@colorfulfreakstudentpizza

@tjellisworld

If anyone else would like to be tagged, do let me know and I’ll be happy to add you to the list!

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

Text

Desperate Measures | Loki x Reader (Part 3)

A/N: I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has read this series so far. I’m not entirely sure how long I’m going to keep it going, but I’ll continue writing as much as you’d like me to! Hope y’all enjoy this third part! ;)

Summary: You’ve quickly become aware that working for the God of Mischief is no easy task. But you aren’t the only one to notice. When the God of Thunder suddenly takes an interests in Loki’s treatment of you, your position in the palace suddenly becomes much more complicated.

Word count: 2435

You weren’t sure how much more you could take of this. Since your decision to refuse his invitation to keep you company at night, Loki was making your life a living hell. And as far as you can tell, he was enjoying every single moment. You, on the other hand, not so much.

“Loki?” you called out, followed by a rough knock on his chamber door. “Are you decent enough for me to come in?”

“Pet, am I decent enough?” Loki asked, his voice through the door a whisper you could just make out.

“Are you speaking with someone?” you shouted. “I refuse to enter if yet another unclothed chambermaid is in there with you!”

Loki’s cruel laugh was like a violin with untuned strings; its sound piercing your eardrum, anger coursing in your veins.

“Loki, I do not kid,” you said.

“Nor do I,” he replied. “You are more than welcome to enter.”

And so you do, even though your trust in the God of Mischief had dwindled to nothing over the month you had been working for him. They were filled with absurd requests and indiscreet flirting with other chambermaids just to see what you would do. You held your breath as you pushed his chamber door open.

His eyes met yours immediately. He was pining for your reaction as always, and when he got it, a grin crossed his face. The sight before you was enough to make you gasp audibly. There was indeed a maid in Loki’s chamber. But she wasn’t naked this time, he was. Loki relaxed in his bath as she used a damp cloth to wipe dry blood off his body, the markings of a gruelling day of battle. Her movements were tantalizingly slow, like being forced to watch a pound of dough rise. The fury inside you was spilling over with each swipe of her hand against his plump skin.

“You are a liar, Loki! And I will not play your games any longer!” you shouted, your eyes focused anywhere except the water bubbling against his bare waistline.

You couldn’t be bothered to wait for his sharp-witted remark that typically followed your outbursts, you left his room as quickly as you had entered it.

“Stop!” he demanded after you. But you were far past the point of being obedient. He couldn’t fire you, you told yourself. For if he did, who else would he have to torture?

You could hear the slaps of his wet feet follow you into the corridor.

“Y/N!” His loud voice made clear the anger he wore on his face. You didn’t even have to turn around to picture the lines that wrinkled his forehead or the vein that bulged at his temple. “I will not ask again!”

You stopped suddenly, your back towards him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him with all this wrath. "Is this all because I wouldn’t share your bed, Loki? Is that why you insist on doing this to me?”

“I am doing nothing,” Loki sneered.

You were to walk away and never look back, that’s what your brain told you to do. And yet, the nerves in your body received a different message. They spun you around and you took in the sight of Loki stood before you. Water dripped down his body and pooled at his feet. It was all that touched his bare skin—no leather, no tunic, not even a cloth to cover his most intimate parts. All of it was fair game for any passerby to observe. Your eyes trailed him top to bottom and then met his face that gloated a self-righteous smirk.

“Done ogling?” he asked through his grin.

“I wasn’t ogling,” you countered, forcing your eyes on his face so they didn't wander lower.

“That was ogling.” “No, Loki. It was not.” “Trust my word, I know it well.” “You’re such a—”

You stopped yourself before you could finish the sentence. You closed your eyes and exhaled your animosity towards him in one long breath. When you were calm, you tried again, “Do you ever tire of being such an imbecile?”

A voice sounded behind you, “He could never.”

“I don't believe her question was intended to you, brother,” Loki dismissed, crossing his arms over his damp chest.

You watched Loki’s eyes darken with spite. Working in the palace had helped you realize two things: Loki was as much of a jerk as you thought he would be, and he really hated his brother. You spun around, taking in the large shape of Thor who peered down towards you.

“I don't believe we've officially met,” he began, extending his arm to you. “Thor, God of Thunder.”

You took his hand in yours. “Y/N.”

“Great, now we're all acquainted,” Loki said, his mockery as thick as butter. “Brother if you don't mind, I would like a word with my chambermaid alone.”

Thor didn't look at his brother. His eyes were pinned on you.

“And is this what you want, Y/N?” Thor asked.

You glanced at Loki through your peripherals. He was still bitter and very much naked. Thor didn't even recoil at Loki’s lack of clothing, which suggested to you that this wasn’t a rare occurrence. But you couldn’t think of that while sandwiched between the two Gods who both demanded your attention.

“No, I do not,” you finally answered, knowing the response it would trigger from Loki. If he wanted to play games, you weren’t afraid to get down and dirty. “I am intent on leaving for the day.”

“I forbid it!” Loki shouted, his sound echoing through the corridor as if a dozen versions of him stood behind you.

“Well, I allow it,” Thor said before you had a chance to rebuttal.

“She is not your chambermaid! You have no authority.” “Perhaps she should be.” “That will not happen, Thor. She is mine!” “Brother, she belongs to neither of us.”

You were getting whiplash from tossing your head from one God to the other as they ping-ponged back and forth.

“She can work for both of you!” Odin’s voice thundered, interrupting their argument the way an unexpected downpour halts a sunny summer day.

“So she has no say in this, father?” Thor asked. “How is that fair?”

Odin’s sharp gaze was burning a hole through you. You knew Loki wouldn't get rid of you, but Odin was a wildcard. He was a great leader of Asgard but the same couldn't be said for his abilities as a boss. When it came to the staff in his palace, he was ruthless and unforgiving. So it was a relief when he finally lost interest in you and answered his son. “No, she doesn't.”

Odin turned to leave, but then stopped himself.

“Loki,” he said, looking his son square in the face, “put on your armour, you are making a fool of yourself.”

And then he was gone. Leaving you again between the tall Gods. With a twitch of his neck, Loki was clothed before your very eyes, a green glow flashing down his body with the movement. You did your best to suppress the frown begging to bow at your lips.

“Happy now?” he addressed you.

“Very,” you lied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.”

Thor moved out of your way and motioned you towards the palace’s entrance.

“I shall see you tomorrow, Thor,” you said as you moved past him. Then you turned. “Loki, you should go back to your chambermaid. I am sure she awaits your return.”

Loki does nothing more than scoff in your direction and as you exited the palace, you couldn't wipe your own smirk off your face.

४ ४ ४

The next few days were unusually ordinary. You bounced from chamber to chamber, changing Loki’s sheets one moment and then running off to buff Thor’s armour the next. There was talk between other chambermaids who were upset at the sudden interest you had attained from both of the Odison brothers. But you refused to be bothered by it, not when it was the very thing helping you provide for your family. You were on your way to Thor’s chamber to clean his leather tunic after a day of battle when Loki stopped you in the corridor nearing the palace’s entrance.

“I require your help,” he said, his tone devoid of his usual smugness.

“I am to help Thor first. Be patient and I will come to your chamber after,” you countered.

Loki’s face swelled with anger.

“I do not require patience,” he sneered. “I require you. Now.”

“What is it you need so urgently it cannot wait a few minutes?” you asked, your own bitterness seeping through your words.

Loki didn't answer but instead raised his tunic, revealing a gash on his abdomen. It was not deep enough to have bled through the leather but it must have hurt like hell for him to have brought it to your attention.

“How did this happen?” you asked, keeping your distance from him.

“I begged Thor to gut me as if I were a fish,” he scoffed. “What do you think happened?”

“Ask another chambermaid, Loki. I'm sure one of them will appreciate your mockery much more than I do.” “Just help me for Odin’s sake!” “No.” “No?”

You turned from him and began walking.

“You are my chambermaid, Y/N!” Loki shouted after you. “I don't care what Odin says. You belong to me, alone!”

A crowd of guards and chambermaids were beginning to form around you with the commotion of Loki’s eruption. Your cheeks burned as they leered at you. They were expecting a show, anticipating an explosive reaction from you. But you refused to give them what they wanted.

“Fine,” you caved at last. “Go to your chamber, I will help you.”

And he did without another word. You followed behind him mortified, knowing you were yet again to be the talk of the palace for the next few days.

“Was that really necessary?!” you shouted at Loki as his chamber door shut with both of you in it.

“It got you in here, did it not?” he taunted, that mischievous grin returning to his face.

“Take off your armour,” you demanded.

“What? No dinner first?” “Now, Loki!” “You're no fun.”

Loki stripped off his tunic, exposing his bare chest. You walked him over to his bed and sat him down on the edge.

“Stay here,” you commanded.

He brought his hand up to his head and saluted you, “Yes, ma’am.”

You got everything you needed to care for his wound. A sterile needle and thread, bandages, ethyl alcohol—all items you were able to find in his chamber.

“This is going to hurt,” you told him before stitching up the laceration.

His hands bunched the sheets of his bed and he cursed under his breath as you carefully worked. And when you were done, you dressed it with the bandages.

“You’ll have to change them before night and then in the morning,” you instructed as you gathered the leftover supplies.

Loki grabbed your arm before you could put them back away.

“How did you learn to do that?” he asked.

“My father taught me,” you replied.

You tugged yourself free from his grip and placed the items in their spots. Then you returned to his side.

“He used to fight for Asgard alongside your father,” you said, talking to a lone strand of black hair that fell perfectly on his forehead. “He got hurt a lot. And when my mom was too busy trying to feed our family, he turned to me to sew him back up just so he could get shredded again the next day.”

Loki reached for your hand, it was tiny in his.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

You shook your head, “No you're not.”

A tear streamed down your cheek and you wiped it away quickly before another could fill its place.

“I am to visit your brother’s chamber,” you told him, walking to his door before he could protest.

“Alright,” he surrendered, surprising you with his lack of fight. You opened the door and slipped out.

It was like a maze trying to get around the palace. Thor and Loki’s chambers were on the opposite side of the grounds, and it wasn't hard to know why. Their animosity towards each other was easily observable to anyone who knew them. As you approached Thor’s doorway, you were preparing yourself for all the questions he had been routinely asking about the way Loki treated you.

You knocked on his door softly.

“Y/N,” he called out. “It's open, come in.”

Thor was on his bed, his arm propped under his head, one leg crossed over the other.

“I'm sorry that I'm late,” you said, entering his chamber.

“I'm assuming it to be the doings of Loki?” he taunted.

You laughed, “Could you hear his yelling from here?”

“When do I not hear his outbursts? He's like a big Godbaby,” he said and then sat up straight on his bed. “Can I ask you something quite personal?”

Here came the questions.

“Do you like working for Loki?” he asked.

You reached for the armour Thor had laid out by his bath in the center of the room. His chamber was eerily similar to Loki’s, minus all the dark. You pulled a polishing cloth from the pocket of your gown.

“He’s tolerable,” you answered, scrubbing his armour until you could see your reflection.

“I agree, but that wasn’t the question,” he said, watching you work.

“I enjoy it as much as any other chambermaid.” “Is that so?” “Yes, it’s the truth.”

Thor slid off his bed and stepped towards you.

“In the chance that it's not, Y/N,” he began, stopping in front of the other end of the bath. “You don't have to work for him. I can talk to my father, you can work solely for me.”

You put down the cloth and met Thor’s ocean eyes.

“Thor...” you started, but he quickly cut you off.

“Don’t say a word now. Just promise you'll think of it.” “I shall.”

And that you would. But you knew your answer would remain the same. You did want to work for Loki, even if he was difficult on the surface. It was the underneath that kept you intrigued. Little bits of his true self seeped out every so often and it was far more complex than he let on. That was the Loki you wanted to serve and it was the one you were determined to unearth, no matter the consequences.

TO BE CONTINUED. :)

115 notes · View notes

sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

Note

i’m really enjoying ‘desperate measures’ so far!!!

Thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you to say! 🥰I’m so so glad you’re enjoying it! I’m hoping to post part 3 soon!! Stay tuned ;)

#marvel #marvel fandom #mcu fic #mcu imagine #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfic #mcu loki #loki laufeyson

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

Text

As You Wish It | Loki x Reader

Summary: You’re an Asgardian long banished to Sakaar. You haven’t thought about your home planet in a while until Loki and Thor show up and the God of Mischief decides to hold you hostage in a closet while he hides from his brother.

Word count: 1349

Warning: Fluffy, light smut. (The insinuation of SA is mentioned towards the end but does not actually occur as everything described/implied in this oneshot is consensual.)

“Loki!” Thor roars loudly as if he were being projected from a speaker.

You didn’t know where the God of Thunder was but his loud voice suggested it was somewhere close.

“He’s over here!” you scream at the top of your lungs.

“Shut it!” Loki sneers.

He pulls you closer to him, muzzling your shouts with his hand. It’s so large he’s almost able to wrap his palm and fingers around your lower face from ear to ear. You were both stood upright, the back of your body held tightly to his front. You squirm as hard as you can, hoping you could weasel your way out of his grasp.

“It’s not going to work,” Loki whispers into your ear, his hot breath on your skin making every inch of you tingle.

“He’s going to find us,” you say. In your head, it’s perfectly clear, but to Loki, it��s nothing more than muffled talk vibrating against his palm.

With his free hand, Loki grabs a chunk of your hair and pulls, twisting your head to face his.

“I will not ask again,” he threatens stilly, his eyes a wicked shade of green. “Keep quiet and I won’t hurt you. Do you understand?”

You nod and he brings your head back upright. He unbunches his fingers from your strands and takes his other hand off your mouth.

“Loki!” Thor rumbles again, his sound as powerful as the thunder he casts.

It makes the locked door that traps you in a tiny closet with Loki tremble. You don’t know why the God of Mischief was holding you hostage, but you didn’t care to find out. All you wanted was to be free of him, and you planned to, one way or another. Thor’s loud, heavy stomps suggested he was nearing your captivity. If you timed it right, you could catch his attention before Loki had the chance to slit your throat. You were an Asgardian, after all—you knew all too well what he was capable of doing.

Your banishment to Sakaar was a byproduct of Loki’s desire for power and you would never forgive him for it. Maybe at the beginning you hated Loki for trying to rule Earth, but if he hadn’t, you would have never been forced to fend for yourself. Loki proved to you more than anyone that you only had yourself to rely on. And that’s who you were counting on to get you out of this.

You were going to use a tactic four years with the Grandmaster had taught you: distraction.

“Loki,” you whisper, turning slowly towards him so that you didn’t set off any alarm.

He put his finger up to his lips, silently shushing you.

“But Loki, I—”

“What part of shut up do you not understand?” he snaps quietly, but it's loud against your ear.

“I understand plenty,” you begin, your hands sneaking behind your back. “Don’t you remember how quiet I could be?”

Loki groans as your hands drag down his pelvis. He wraps his arms around your midriff and pulls you into him.

“Oh, I remember,” he says into the side of your neck.

You gasp when he kisses the skin.

“And I remember your enjoyment of that.”

“Loki,” you say his name the way you used to, soft and drawn out. “Take me.”

You don't have to turn around to know the smirk that burns into the back of your head. Loki couldn't resist domination, even if it was only over one person.

“As you wish it.”

Loki spins you around and you're greeted with his sinful grin. As much as you were mad at Loki for what he unknowingly did to you, it would be a lie to say that even a little part of you didn't miss his luring presence. He bunches up the fabric of your gown at the waist and pulls it all the way up until he slides it off your upper half. It falls to the floor, exposing you completely. He takes you in head to toe for a few seconds, and then his hands are all over you. There isn't an inch of you that hasn't felt the coldness of his fingers. You gasp as he lingers on your center, his chilling digits sending shocks throughout your nervous system.

“Loki,” you wail, testing the waters.

You want to know how loud you can get before he stops you. And if it's just loud enough, it should get Thor’s attention who was still drumming through the corridors.

“Say what you want,” Loki demands. “And I shall give it to you.”

You breathe unsteady breaths against his chest.

“I want you,” you answer. You gasp again at his undivided attention at your core. “All of you.”

His want for you is growing bigger, you can feel it pressing against your behind. You try to grab for it but he tsks you away. “Patience, my pet.”

Your lips form a pout. You didn't need to be patient, you needed good reason to yell and you knew from experience that he could give you it.

“Tell me first,” he says, removing his fingers from you. “How did you get to Sakaar?”

“What? Why are you asking me this?” you question back.

“Curiosity.” “I already told you, Loki. You put me here.” “I've put you in many positions, but not this one.”

You grab his hand and bring it back down to you. He swirls his fingers again and you sigh of relief.

“When you decided to invade that stupid human planet and then was stupid enough to get caught”—you pause for air—“everyone who stood by your side before was forced to turn against you. But I couldn't. I loved you.”

“So you mean to tell me that you rather be exiled to this wasteland than consider yourself a traitor to my honour?” Loki asks, summing up the years of your life spent in Sakaar in one simple question.

And you could condense your answer to one word, “Yes.”

“How could you be so stupid, Y/N?” “Stupid? I did it for you, Loki.” “And look where that got you.” “Is this why you locked me in here with you, so you could get your answer while hiding from your brother?”

Loki’s silence provided the answer better than his words ever could.

You slap Loki's hand off you.

“Don't touch me!” you shout, it's much louder than any other noise you've made while being trapped.

“Y/N, calm down,” Loki says, his words still as if they’d rub onto you.

He reaches for your hand and you holler again.

“I said don't touch me, Loki!” “Y/N.” “Don't!!”

Once Loki clues into what you're doing, it's too late. The closet door rips open and light pours in. You spin around and take in the massive being that is the God of Thunder. But it's only once his eyes trail down your body that you realize you're still very much bare.

“What in Odin’s name is going on in here?” he shouts.

“Brother, I assure you nothing she didn't want,” Loki is quick to answer.

You pick up your gown on the floor and slide it over you. You start to walk out the doorway when Thor clutches your arm, pinning you in place.

“Not so quick, Y/N. What are you doing here in Sakaar?” he asks, looking you up and down as if trying to see if your body clothed matches the shape of it bare.

“What? Your father didn't tell you either? Almost makes you wonder of everything else he's keeping from you.”

Thor lowers his head. You can feel his hold on you loosen as if his strength was melting out of his body.

You turn your head slightly to meet Loki. “Won't you be a good boy and fill in your dear brother?”

Loki scoffs at you. “I will have you again, Y/N. Mark me!”

You free yourself from Thor’s grasp and exit the closet. You turn yourself fully towards Loki and blow him a kiss.

“As you wish it.”

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sadadaptive-daydreaming · 2 years

Text

Dessert Before Dinner | Scott Lang x Reader

A/N: I haven't seen quite a lot of fics about Scott Lang so I wanted to give it a try. Hope y’all like it! ;)

Summary: Scott surprises you with a homemade meal following a work promotion, but the garlic butter salmon and roasted asparagus aren’t the only things steaming up your kitchen. You're enjoying your heated moment together until your parents unexpectedly show up for a visit.

Word count: 2534

Warnings: Fluffy, light smut.

The excitement inside you was bubbling over, you could barely contain it in your body as you dialled Scott’s number. It rang a few times before he picked up.

“Yello?” Scott answered, his slick voice projected loudly in your office.

“Scott, it's me,” you said, your words trembling with your over-spilling emotion.

He was quick to detect it. “Baby, what's wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you assured him. You took a deep breath to get a hold of yourself. But it does very little. You're still audibly elated on your end of the line. “I got the promotion, Scott!”

“You got the promotion?!” he shouted, echoing you as if you weren't in an eight-foot by eight-foot private cubicle but instead were in an auditorium with thousands of empty seats.

“Mmhmm!” you squealed.

“Oh Y/N, that's amazing!” he said. “Congratulations baby, you deserve it.”

And that you did. You had been working your ass off at the marketing firm you had given the majority of your adult life to, and finally you we're receiving the position you always dreamt of: senior marketing director.

“So you get the bigger office and manage the department?” Scott asked.

He was always so supportive of your dreams and you were so grateful that he believed in you, even when you didn't share that same optimism for yourself.

“Yes, and yes,” you answered, your body still full of happiness.

“I'm so proud of you, Y/N,” he gushed. “We have to celebrate tonight!”

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

The rest of your workday went by fast. It saw you busied with department meetings and the beginnings of internal interviews to find your replacement. By the time you hopped on a cable car to start your trek home, it was already a quarter past five. The San Francisco Bay was shrinking behind you as the car glided along the cable away from the waterfront and towards the inner city. You lived in a small Victorian townhouse around the neighbourhood of Lower Pacific Heights, buying it for no other reason than the fact that it looked like the Tanners’ home from Full House. It was perfect for just you, and you heard no complaints whenever Scott stayed the night. And you were hoping he'd do the same this evening as you recognized his car parked in your driveway.

“Scott?” you called out once you’ve climbed your steep porch steps and unlocked your red front door.

“How did you know I was here?” he whined loudly from the kitchen.

“Maybe it’s my ant tingle!” you teased back, shrugging the jean jacket off your shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack in your narrow entryway.

You hear him before you see him—Scott had turned the corner out of your kitchen, dashed through your living room and slid to a stop inches from you.

“First off, I don't have a tingle,” he said before pecking your lips softly. “That’s Spider-Man’s thing.”

“Oh is it?” you questioned, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

He snaked his hands on your waist and dipped you backwards.

“Yeah, I have more of an ache in my spleen,” he said against your lips.

“In your spleen?” you laughed, your body bobbing in his arms from giggling so hard.

Scott pulled you back up until you're both stood upright.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Well, my ache”—you began, squirming against his lips on your skin, your fingers laced in his hair—“is a little lower than my spleen.”

“You mean down here?” he asked, sliding his hand on your behind.

He gave it a squeeze roughly making you gasp at his firm hold on your tush.

“Sorry, my spleen made me do it,” he taunted.

“There's something my spleen wants to do,” you said.

Your fingers swept down his back, sneaking around to the front of his blue jeans. You undid the button and pulled down the zipper. It was achingly slow the way your fingers worked. You wanted to tease him as much as he did you, and it was working. Scott tossed his head back when your hand reached into his boxers and brushed against his growing bulge.

“No,” he breathed out, grabbing your hand. “Not yet.”

“Why not?” you pouted. “I want you.”

He shimmied his pants back up his waist and buttoned them again.

“You won't be able to keep your hands off me when you see what I did to your kitchen,” he said, starting towards the end of the hallway and into the living room around the corner

“Scott!” you groaned after him.

“Kidding!” he yelled back, and then popped his head back around the corner. “But not really.”

You could only imagine the disaster that awaited you. Scott's culinary repertoire hadn’t advanced past frozen chicken nuggets and Hamburger Helper, so expectations weren’t high but you always appreciated his effort—even if it meant more clean up for you afterwards. And today was no different. As you walked into your kitchen, you were greeted with an array of dirty pots and pans tossed into the sink, used utensils littering the wrap-around marble counter and a stack of porcelain bowls so high they started to arch. The havoc before you activated your fight or flight, but you chose to do neither when you finally noticed your dining room table that had been set for two complete with candles and rose petals.

“Scott,” you began, almost choked up by his dedication, “you did this all for me?”

“Nope. I did it for my other girlfriend,” he replied. “You're gonna have to leave now because she doesn't know about you and I don't want things to get awkward.”

“Imagine the catastrophe,” you played along.

“That's what I'm talking about!”

Scott grabbed your hand and walked you to your seat at the table. He pulled it out for you to sit and then pushed you closer to the wooden edge.

“Thank you,” you said, as he took his seat opposite you, “for everything.”

A grin widened on his face. “You're welcome, baby.”

You looked down at the plate in front of you and then cocked your head to the right hoping a different angle might help you discern what he's made.

“So what are we having, Mr. Gordon Ramsay?” you asked after a while of staring.

He picked up his butter knife and swung it in the air as he taunted, “Well, I'm so glad you asked.”

Scott used the knife to point at the pink clump resting on a bed of soggy rice. “This is salmon on a beautiful mattress of jasmine rice.”

Your eyes widened at the rosy blob on your plate. “That's salmon?” you wanted to say, but it came out as: “Oh, I see it now.”

Except you didn't, nor could you make out the asparagus he had diced into little bits and roasted in the oven that looked more like soft broccoli mashed into a paste.

“Yum!” you gushed politely as you struggled to swallow a piece of salmon that was drier than sandpaper.

“Be honest, is it good?” he asked, watching you chug down your glass of wine to dislodge the fish glued to your throat.

“Mmhmm,” you smiled through closed teeth, your tongue working overtime to get whatever bits of salmon that didn't go down your esophagus lose from the roof of your mouth.

Scott flaked off a piece of his salmon. You held your breath as he brought it to his lips.

“God, this is terrible,” he choked out after swallowing it.

You shook your head, your mouth preoccupied with another bit of stuck fish.

He looked up at you and sneered, “And you're a horrible person for lying to me.”

“It is good!” you rebutted after forcing down the chunk.

“Yeah, and I'm Oprah Winfrey.” “What?” “I thought we were saying things that aren't true.” “Scott!”

He reaches over and stops you from putting a fork-full of asparagus in your mouth.

“They're much better things I'd rather watch you put in your mouth than that,” he said, lowering your arm down towards the table.

Your cheeks went red as you inferred his words. He didn't need his spleen to tell him what you wanted.

“Let me at least clear the table, you animal,” he teased.

He worked in lightning speed, collecting your plates and glasses, and then candles and petals until only the bare tablecloth remained. You rolled it up into a sausage and tossed it on the counter.

“You get me so turned on when you throw things,” he scoffed, lifting you up on the table

“Shut up!” you laughed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and then his lips were on yours.

He was kissing you fervently as if he had been deprived of you for years.

“But seriously, how did you know I was here?” he asked, in between breaths.

“What?” you sighed into his mouth utterly confused.

“Earlier,” he said, following another kiss, “you knew I was here.” His fingers began unbuttoning your blouse. “How?”

You shrugged the material off your shoulders and it dropped to the ground.

“Your car parked outside gave me an inkling,” you answered, starting to undo his jeans again.

He peeled his pants off his legs and then tore off his t-shirt. You ran your hand down his bare chest, feeling his firm skin under your palms.

“Dammit,” he said, tugging your black leather pants down your thighs. “I knew I should’ve walked here.”

It didn't take long until both your undergarments were scattered on the kitchen floor with the rest of your clothes. Scott was in between your thighs working your core and then soon, you were between his.

“On the table,” he commanded, and you were happy to comply.

You fastened your arms around the nape of his neck as he positioned himself at your entrance. With one quick thrust, Scott had you gasping his name. His tempo was steady and you swirled your hips with his rhythm to have him in all the places you needed. He snaked his fingers down to your center and moved them in swift circles on your sensitive spot.

“Scott!” you cried out, your body shaking as you released onto him.

Scott groaned his own enjoyment and you knew he could cave at any second. You matched his uneven breathing as the doorbell sounded loudly behind you, and then a knock followed. Scott didn't stop or even slow his pumping at the noise.

“Scott,” you whispered into his neck.

“Shhhh,” he silenced you.

The doorbell sounded again with another knock.

You clenched around him as you turned your body towards the front of your house intrigued by who could be outside.

“Just leave it,” he said, tugging you back into him.

He holds your body tight to his while he continued throbbing in you. And then your phone rings, making the both of you halt in your tracks. You scanned your kitchen knowing that your phone was lost somewhere in the mess where you had dropped it when initially surveying the disaster zone.

You freed yourself from his grasp and rummaged through the havoc until you located it.

“It's my mother,” you gasped.

“Shit!” Scott moaned. “Answer it.”

And so you did.

“Hi mom.” “Honey, are you okay?” she asked immediately on the other end of the line. “Yes, I’m fine,” you lied as Scott helped you pull your pants up your legs.

You put her on speaker as you yanked your blouse over your head.

“Your father and I are outside and we’ve been ringing your doorbell.” Your mother’s voice boomed out of your phone. “Dave, do it again.”

She instructed your father to ring your doorbell, which sounded loudly from your entryway. “Can you not hear it?”

Scott shook his head no.

“N-no,” you stuttered out. “I’m not home.”

“But your car’s in the driveway,” your mother said.

“My car?” you questioned. Just a few moments with Scott could make you forget anything, even your own name.

He nudged you in the side and then mouthed to you, his fingers frantically pointing to his chest and then the front of your house, “My car! In your driveway!”

You choked down the lump forming in your throat.

“It’s my neighbour’s,” you lied, spinning out webs of deceit as quickly as your brain allowed. “I’m letting her park it there.”

“Okay...” your mother responded.

She was far to well-versed in smelling out your bullshit. That’s precisely the reason you kept your relationship with Scott a secret from your parents. You knew they’d never give their blessing to a man nearly twice your age who was a convicted felon. And you could only imagine the confusion on their faces when you mentioned the whole Ant-Man thing. You couldn’t tell your parents about him, that you were certain. What you weren’t sure of initially was how Scott would feel about all the lying and secret rendezvous. But surprisingly, it meshed well with his chaotic lifestyle.

“Tell them you’ll be home in a bit,” Scott whispered to you, but not nearly as quiet enough as he should have.

“Who’s that?” your mother asked. There was suspicion in her voice, there always was with you.

You pushed Scott’s face away from you and then spun around with your back to him.

“Just a coworker,” you began as Scott slapped your behind. You stifled a gasp. “I’m still at work.”

“That’s what you get for tempting me with that ass,” he breathed against your neck.

Scott clutched you to him as you melted into his chest.

“Listen mom, I really have to go,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm as Scott slipped his hand into your pants. “Why don’t you guys go get something for dinner”—you interrupted yourself with another muffled gasp—“then come back to my house for dessert. I’ll be home later.”

“Y/N, are you sure you’re fine. You sound kind of funny,” your mom asked again.

You elbowed Scott in the stomach and his fingers stopped moving against your folds for a brief second. “Never better.”

Your mom bought it. Or at least she did enough to get her off your back for the time being. “Okay, we’ll see you later then.”

“Bye mom.”

You hung up quickly and then turned slightly to kiss Scott’s neck as he returned to his handiwork in your panties.

“You’re such a jerk,” you breathed into him. “Would I still be a jerk if I went to check that your parents are gone?” he asked, his body swaying side to side with yours. “Maybe. Maybe not.” “Then I’ll be right back.”

He pulled his arm out of your pants and spun you around so you both were face to face.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said before pressing his lips to your forehead. “I wouldn’t imagine it.”

You watched as he marched out of the kitchen, your mind inferring his trek to the front entrance. You imagined him peering out the slightly-opened glass door, a few quick glances in either direction being enough to confirm that your parents were nowhere to be seen. And as he strolled back to you in the kitchen, you fell even more in love with the man you wanted to spent the rest of your life with.

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