Close Quarters
Part 1 of 2
Summary: “You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”
Your job, as it turns out, is to go undercover at a luxury resort.
The only problem? Your fake husband is Loki Laufeyson—the infuriatingly handsome Norse god turned Avenger who delights in making you flustered. What could go wrong?
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki.
A/N: there will be a part 2. Also have a handful of related one shot ideas, so if people like this, I may post those. This is also posted on AO3.
Your self-sufficiency has always been a point of pride for you, both personally and professionally. The highlight of your career was overhearing Nick Fury say that he didn’t need to send in a team of people for a mission so long as he had you on the payroll. You are calm, competent, and ruthlessly efficient; you are used to relying only on yourself.
So it comes as something of a surprise when Fury informs you that Loki Laufeyson will not only be accompanying you on this undercover mission, but will also be taking the lead.
It takes a lot to render you speechless these days, but this does it. You gape at Fury for a moment before you’re able to speak.
“You never send me in with anyone,” you say.
“This mission requires a unique skillset.”
You scoff. “He can’t do anything that I can’t.”
Fury raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest. “Really? How’s your conversational Sokovian?”
There’s, of course, no argument to be made with this. Your lips press into a thin, hard line. “I still don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”
*
Your job, as it turns out, is to play the part of Nina Pine.
Nina Pine is bubbly and vivacious, the sort of person you’d see in the society pages. She wears designer clothes and owns jewelry that is so ostentatious and expensive that it looks like it must be fake. She is not particularly bright or talented; she is the product of good luck and generational wealth.
Three weeks ago, Nina married Jonathan Pine, who she met six months ago at the home of a mutual friend. Jonathan does something in finance that sounds like it’s just a tarted up version of gambling, but with more complicated rules and less oversight. It is Jonathan’s higher tolerance for risk (and healthy trust fund assets) that has him considering an investment in KorolCo, a company owned by Ivan Litvinchuk. Litvinchuk uses KorolCo as a front to launder money from illegal arms deals.
Loki would be going undercover as Jonathan. Your new husband.
You are not particularly happy about this little detail (a detail that Fury mysteriously failed to mention when you met with him), in no small part because Loki has already started leveraging it to annoy the shit out of you.
“How are you already this annoying when we’re still in prep?” you say after a particularly exasperating meeting.
“I’m simply overcome by my love for you,” says Loki with a cloying faux sincerity that makes you yearn for the sweet release of death.
Fury, you note, is suspiciously unavailable during all of this. After ignoring three of your (admittedly lengthy) emails on the subject, he sends you a frustratingly short reply:
Do your job, Agent.
Maybe you’ll take up meditation.
If there’s a bright side to what appears to be a massive clusterfuck in the making, it’s that you’ll at least get a free vacation of sorts
The mission will be taking place at The Indigo, an absurdly expensive and exclusive hotel on a private beach not far from La Jolla Cove. The Indigo is the sort of place that you’d only read about—the kind of hyper exclusive resort that is only ever mentioned in damning Pro Publica reports about the questionable actions of high ranking public officials. Rooms start at fifty thousand a night and you are staying in one of the suites, which likely costs more. Your room information was included in your briefing materials and it all sounds too good to be true: a soaking tub and waterfall shower. Private terrace with an infinity pool. Private bar. In-suite chef and spa services by appointment. Ocean view.
One Norse god who delights in irritating you (non-negotiable).
You suppose you’ll try and make the best of it.
*
The first problem is your sleeping arrangements: there’s only one bed. Granted, it’s a big bed, but still—it suggests a level of intimacy that you had not thought about and are not at all prepared for.
“Well, Agent, this isn’t how I envisioned taking you to my bed, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” says Loki on your first evening there.
You chuck a pillow at him, which he easily dodges.
“Keep it up and you can magic yourself a pillow and sleeping bag and sleep in the hall,” you say.
“Even if that were an appropriate accommodation for someone of my rank and title, I rather think it would do some damage to our cover.”
He has a point and you don’t like it. You decide to ignore him and start getting ready for bed.
The pajamas that had been packed for you are a little fancier than what you’re used to—satin and lace instead of cotton tees and shorts. Normally, you’d relish the opportunity to feel a little fancy—it’s an unexpected indulgence, a splurge on the company dime.
But with Loki now thrown into the equation, you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact that the fabric will likely cling to your curves, that the hem of the skirt is just a little too high. You choose the most demure one of the lot—a pale rose colored thing hemmed with lace—and head to the bathroom to change.
Even with the matching robe, you still feel a little awkward and oddly nervous. You avoid looking at Loki—if his gaze is lingering on your legs or your hips, you don’t want to know about it right before you hop into bed with him—and go about your normal routine. You manage to have a relatively normal conversation about your plan for tomorrow and you read a couple chapters of your book before you start to drift off.
It’s a king sized bed with plenty of room, but somehow you wake up perched near the edge of the bed with Loki pressed up against your back.
He’s got one arm wrapped around your waist so that you’re pinned against him and the deep, even breaths brushing against the back of your neck tell you he’s still asleep. You’re pretty sure this must have been unintentional on his part: Loki doesn’t seem like the sort to willingly allow himself to be seen seeking out human contact. It’s too vulnerable, too soft for the sharp and sarcastic veneer he presents to the world.
He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip on you tightening. Something hard pokes against the curve of your ass.
You can’t help the responding ache between your legs. You should feel embarrassed—and you do, just a little—but there’s a competing feeling of warm curiosity that makes you press your thighs together. It’s been a while and you miss being held like this. The silk of your nightgown is cool and slippery against your skin, and you feel oddly restless and alert despite the early hour.
You should put a stop to this—that is the professional and sensible thing to do. So you carefully lift his arm from your waist and gently extricate yourself from his embrace. You pad to the bathroom, leaving the light off to spare your eyes.
In the bathroom, you run the tap as cold as it will go. You cup your hands and drink before splashing some water on your face in an effort to quell the restless heat building between your thighs.
It doesn’t really work. You’re not entirely surprised—if you were by yourself, you would simply take care of it, but that’s obviously not an option now. Out of curiosity, you slip your fingers between your thighs to assess the state of things and you immediately regret it: you’re soaked and just the feeling of your index finger glancing against your clit is enough to undo the admittedly minimal effect of the cold water.
You splash your face again and shut off the tap, taking a few deep breaths and smoothing your hands against your hair.
You exit the bathroom and slide back into bed. Loki reaches for you in his sleep and you are only half surprised when you let him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensifies and before you can think about it, your back is arching and your breath is hitching.
He pulls you closer and suddenly his breath is warm on your ear. “You know, if you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, only a little husky with sleep.
“This is a bad idea,” you say, even as your back arches again and you press yourself against him.
Lips press against where your neck and shoulder meet. “But you want it.” His fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown. “Yes?” he asks, his voice husky against your ear.
“Yes,” you breathe.
“Agent.”
“Yes. Please.”
“Agent.”
Your eyes flutter open. Loki is standing at the foot of the bed, hair wet, and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.
“It’s eight o’clock,” he says. “You need to shower and dress if we’re to make it to breakfast on time.”
It takes you a moment to process this information. Partly because he just woke you up from a sex dream about him and partly because wearing only a towel should be fucking illegal when you look like that. You try to keep your eyes trained on his and not let them drift to his flat stomach where you can see a faint smattering of chest hair that gathers in a line that trails directly to his cock. And definitely not to any of the muscles that are on tantalizing display and dotted by drops of water that are begging to be licked away. Nope. Not looking at any of that. Just at his devastatingly handsome face.
Fuck.
“Agent?”
You shake your head. “Sorry. Bit groggy this morning. Finish up what you were doing and I’ll go jump in the shower.”
He gives you a bit of an odd look, but mercifully walks away without further comment.
This gives you an opportunity to stare at his broad back as he walks away. Goddammit, even his ass looks good in that towel.
Fuck.
You have a feeling this is going to be a long week.
*
It’s only day one and it’s becoming clear to you that you are not really prepared for some of the practicalities of being Loki’s wife.
Specifically: being the primary focus of his flirtations and little gestures of affection. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers lacing with yours, the brush of his lips against the back of your hand or the shell of your ear—it’s all a little overwhelming in a way you don’t expect. It was one thing when he was razzing you in your prep meetings—he was quite clearly doing it to be irritating. But at The Indigo, he has to appear sincere for your cover and that particular detail makes it a different beast entirely.
The fact that both his regular appearance and the blond-haired, blue-eyed glamor he’s adopted for the mission are both devastatingly handsome certainly doesn’t help. Nor does the additional baggage of your sex dream this morning.
Unfortunately for you, Loki quickly ascertains that he now has a great and novel way to fluster you. Equally unfortunate is the fact that he seems to find this as hilarious as he did back in prep meetings, which prompts him to be only more outlandish.
“Are you trying to sabotage this?” It’s later that afternoon and you’ve gone down to the pool with the plan of schmoozing with Litvinchuk and his associates. Loki has clearly decided that this needs to be more difficult than it is and has fully committed to the bit, as they say.
(You’ve also gotten very good at whispering threats under your breath and making it look like you’re flirting; the timing of this is not a coincidence).
“I don’t know why you’re so distraught about sunscreen,” says Loki, rubbing a generous amount between his palms.
“It’s not the sunscreen, it’s that you’re going to find some way to be inappropriate about it.”
“I’d never.”
“You are so full of shit.”
“You wound me.” He places his hands on your shoulders and begins rubbing in the sunscreen, going much slower than you think is strictly necessary. “Perhaps this trip is merely bringing out our natural chemistry.”
“You wish.”
“Is it the hair that does it for you, Mrs. Pine? Do you have a particular fondness for blonds?”
“Do you have a fondness for being murdered in broad daylight? Because that’s the fate you’re headed towards, buster.”
He tuts at you as his hands slide to the small of your back. “Temper, temper. You really need to work on that.”
“Have you considered working on not annoying the ever-loving shit out of me?”
His breath is suddenly warm against your ear. “Now where’s the fun in that? And before you answer, be advised that Tarasevich is looking right at us.”
Fuck. Tarasevich is the most suspicious and paranoid of the lot—years in the Sokovian mafia paired with recreational drug use will do that to a guy. You turn so that you’re facing Loki. He looks at you fondly, looking for all the world like a loved up newlywed just smitten with his new wife.
“One of these days, I’m going to drop kick you into the motherfucking sun,” you say in the sweetest voice that you can muster.
“Now, now, Mrs. Pine, let’s keep the foreplay in the bedroom.” He rests his forehead against yours, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “There’s such a thing as public indecency laws, you know.”
You sigh heavily. “Why are you like this?”
“Oh, because it’s so much fun.”
“Is he still looking?”
“Yes and I’m going to kiss you to put him off, so do try to contain yourself.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage.”
You catch a flicker of a smile before he leans in and brushes his lips against yours. You intend for this to be brief, but his mouth is so warm and inviting and before you know it, he’s gently coaxing your lips open and leading your tongue in a slow and seductive caress that has your mind drifting straight to the gutter.
His hand slides to your thigh and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.
“Ah, Pine. Mixing business and pleasure, I see.”
You pull back from Loki to find Ivan Litvinchuk standing in front of you, wearing the smug, congratulatory smirk that you often see men like him trading with one another when they think they’re getting somewhere with a woman.
“Normally I try not to, but I’ve found it rather impossible these last three weeks, haven’t I, darling?” Loki takes the opportunity to loop his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, nuzzling your neck.
You give a good natured laugh. “You’re insatiable.”
“Oh, I don’t think anyone would fault me when I have such a tempting little wife.”
This, paired with the squeeze of his hand on your thigh, sends an unexpected rush of heat to your cunt. Fortunately, the effects of this are quickly tempered when you notice that Litvinchuk is eyeing you rather appreciatively. The wardrobe team has really outdone themselves with your clothes, but the swimsuits they’ve sent are definitely more revealing than you are used to—today’s choice is a bikini with a split sweetheart neckline that dips a lot lower than you’d like and a fucking underwire in the top. Underwire! The bottom is no better—it’s both low rise and high cut, the perfect way to ensure that half of your ass is exposed at any given time. Even in the matching translucent cover up—which of course you’ve left on the chair that Litvinchuk is standing in front of—you feel a little more bare than you’d like, a fact that Litvinchuk seems to be appreciating, if the path of his gaze is any indication.
“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Pine,” he says, his eyes flicking briefly to your cleavage.
You expertly tamp down your disgust and smile at Litvinchuk before turning around to bat your eyes at Loki.
“You are, aren’t you?” you say, twining your arms around his neck and planting a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.
He gives you a dazzling smile that’s so sincere it makes your stomach flip. “Very much so.”
Another squeeze of your thigh, more heat to your cunt. Fuck.
“Well, Pine, when you are ready to discuss more business—” Here he switches to Sokovian.
This is the part you dislike the most about this particular mission: whenever anything of substance comes up, Litvinchuk and his cronies immediately switch to Sokovian, leaving you in the dark.
To add insult to injury, Litvinchuk still seems infatuated by your cleavage.
Litvinchuk says goodbye a few minutes later and you manage to bite your tongue until he’s out of earshot.
“I really don’t love the fact that he spent half of that conversation sneaking looks at my boobs,” you say quietly.
“Well, to be fair, they do look spectacular,” says Loki. “I’ll have to send a thank you note to the wardrobe team for that.”
Heat stirs hopefully and unhelpfully in your hips at that comment.
“This is what I meant by being inappropriate, you know. Did he have anything interesting to say?”
“He’s invited me to a game of cards this afternoon.”
“Do you need me for that? I could go try and talk to the wives, see what I can find out.”
“Originally, I’d thought no, but since dear Ivan seems so enamored of your assets, it might not be a bad idea to have you come along.”
You sigh. “How am I now at the point in my life where letting an illegal arms dealer stare at my tits is a fucking mission objective?”
Loki laughs quietly. “We’ll keep that out of the final report.”
*
The card game ends up being a lot worse than you thought it would be. And not because of Litvinchuk’s wandering eyes.
They’ve set up the game on the pool deck tables and chairs. As best as you can tell, it’s a Sokovian twist on a combination of rummy and poker. You’re not the only woman at the table: a few of the other men have their girlfriends or mistresses draped over them like strange human scarves, though their roles seem to be largely decorative.
Loki makes a big show of pulling you into his lap, saying how he just can’t bear to be apart from his new wife for terribly long.
“Ah, young love,” says Mikhnevich. “I remember when my Irina and I were like this.”
“Now she begs for him to leave the house!” says Litvinchuk. There’s a hearty round of laughter—it’s not a particularly funny joke, but you suppose that’s one of the benefits of moving up in the world of crime: people will laugh at your jokes because they’re afraid you’ll kidnap their families or something. It’s all very dysfunctional.
Loki makes an effort to teach you the game, but Nina is not the sort who pays very close attention to that kind of thing, so you find yourself giggling and letting him steal kisses or whisper in your ear as he explains some strategy or another.
There are several problems with this arrangement. The first is that you are positioned on his lap in such a way that you can feel his cock nudging your ass or your thigh, depending on how he’s sitting. And it’s close enough proximity for you to ascertain that he is long, thick, and semi-erect.
The second problem is his thigh; specifically, how it presses against your cunt, how every time Loki leans forward to draw a card, he inadvertently rocks you against the firm muscle. Each time, it feels better than the last; each time, you clench and ache and talk yourself out of riding his thigh until you have a screaming orgasm right on the pool deck. Each time, the idea becomes more and more tempting.
The third problem is his hands. Specifically, where and how they are wandering. He plays it off like it’s unintentional, like he’s just absently fidgeting with the part of your suit that lays against your hip or idly drawing lazy circles on your thigh. You can’t help but think that it must be calculated. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours intentionally trying to drive you crazy–there’s no way that he would pass up an opportunity to play his little games without you scolding him or rolling your eyes.
The fourth problem is that the first three problems are turning you on a lot.
Your clit seems to swell with every pass of his fingertips on your bare skin, no matter how casual. It drags against the slick material of your swimsuit every time you shift on Loki’s muscular thigh. You can feel yourself growing slicker and slicker with every moment. Eventually, it becomes too much and you try to shift in his lap, crossing your legs to give yourself a little relief.
This does exactly nothing useful. Instead, your movement causes his cock to twitch against you, which only escalates your growing arousal. He hooks the elastic of your suit at your hip onto his thumb and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. His expression is playful when you look up at him, but there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
You are throbbing, your cunt practically weeping with slickness. And you’re pretty sure he knows.
And you’re pretty sure you don’t mind.
You lick your lips.
He hooks his thumb back into your suit at the hip, and this time he leaves it there, his fingers splayed along the curve of your hip. It’s casually possessive and ridiculously hot and the polar opposite of helpful.
He definitely knows.
Your heart is pounding. Can you go into cardiac arrest from being too turned on? You wish you could use Google. At a minimum, some sort of visual equivalent of a cold shower would be helpful. Pictures of Henry Kissinger or something. Budget reports. Taxes. Anything to get your mind off your aching cunt and the mess that you’re making in your swimsuit.
“I think you could do with a bit of a lie down, Mrs. Pine.” Loki's voice is low in your ear. “You seem…warm.”
You would have thought that Loki knowing about your current state of arousal would be cause for humiliation, if not irritation. Instead, it only seems to add fuel to the fire, especially with the way he’s talking to you. You’re not sure how he’s doing this, but it feels like his fucking voice is vibrating in the cradle of your hips, sending a fresh wave of slick arousal to your dripping cunt.
“Yeah,” you say. “Very warm.”
It’s perhaps a testament to your current state of mind that you can only manage this sentence and not some smart remark.
“Would you like my help with that, darling?” he asks. The phrasing is innocent, but the question is loaded. And sincere. You take in a shaky breath. You know all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but you also can’t bring yourself to say no. He may be wildly irritating, but you suspect he’s likely a good fuck…and you really need to be fucked.
You nod. “Yeah…I’d like that.”
“We’ll go up to the room after this game ends,” he says. “And then I’ll take very good care of you.”
It takes everything in you not to whine. Fuck. You didn’t think it was possible to be this wet, this turned on.
Loki shifts slightly, pulling you close against him, his cock now fully erect and pressing hard and thick against your ass.
“Do you feel me?” he asks, his lips grazing your ear. “Do you feel what you’ve done?”
You nod and wiggle your hips slightly, partly to situate yourself and partly because you want a little bit of payback. His grip on your hip tightens.
“I’d advise you not to play games, little wife,” he rasps in your ear.
More heat builds in your hips. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on. Maybe never. You throw a look at Loki over your shoulder. “It’s not a game,” you say. “I’m just very warm.”
His eyes are dark. “Burning up, I suspect.”
“You have no idea.” You lean back against him, turning so you can nuzzle your face against his neck. God, he smelled good. “Please,” You say it so quietly that only he can hear, “I’m aching.”
He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and you feel his cock throb. He clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my leave a little early—Mrs. Pine is feeling quite unwell.”
Fuck yes.
If Litvinchuk and his men suspect there’s anything untoward about your departure, they don’t say so—and you imagine you must look a little unsteady anyway. Loki slides an arm around your waist as you leave.
“Now Mrs. Pine,” he says once you’re out of earshot, “tell me exactly what ails you.”
You let out a shaky sigh. “Are you seriously going to do this?”
“I only want to ensure that we are on the same page,” he says with a smirk.
“Like hell you do. I already told you, you just want to hear—” You cut yourself off, realizing that you’re playing right into his hands.
He smiles like a cat with a bowl full of cream. “What do I want to hear, darling?”
You press your lips together. This is infuriating.
“I’m waiting…”
You blow out a shaky breath. Fuck it. “You just want to hear me say that I’m fucking soaked because you’ve been rubbing me against your thighs and touching me for the last two hours and if I don’t come soon, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”
He smirks as you approach the hotel lobby. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear you say all that.”
“You absolutely were.”
The air conditioned air in the hotel lobby feels extra icy against your sunwarmed skin and your sandals seem to clack particularly loudly against the marble floors.
“You have a smart mouth, do you know that?”
“You like it,” you say as you approach the bank of elevators. “That’s the reason why you pull half of this shit with me.”
“Perhaps.” He gives you a smile that feels a little dangerous and sends even more heat to your aching cunt. “But do you know what my favorite part of your smart mouth is, Mrs. Pine?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
The elevator door opens. It’s empty and your cunt clenches at the possibilities this presents.
“My favorite part about your smart mouth,” says Loki in a low voice as you step into the elevator, “is that it will sound that much sweeter when I make you beg for me.”
The elevator door slides closed and you barely have a chance to react before he’s backing you up against the wall and pressing his thigh between your legs.
“You’re a disobedient, wicked tease, Mrs. Pine,” he growls, sending a thrill through you. “I think you could benefit from a firm hand.”
“You like it,” you breathe, rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to capture some of the same friction that was driving you wild earlier.
“Rutting yourself against my thigh in public like a common slut,” he purrs. “You must be desperate.” He slides a hand between your legs, slipping his fingers under your bathing suit. His expression changes the moment his fingers dip past the fabric—almost like he expected you to be wet, but not this wet.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs as you keen. “You’ve made a mess of yourself, haven’t you?”
“I need to come so bad,” you gasp.
“I know you do.” He reaches over and slams the emergency stop button and the elevator shudders to a halt. “And you’re going to. Right now.”
“I can wait until we get to the ro—”
He spins you around and pulls you to him so your back is pressed against his chest.
“No, you can’t.” He curls his big frame over yours, sliding his hand back into your bathing suit and stroking the full length of your sex and making you cry out again. “You need it too badly.” He starts rubbing your clit with his middle and index fingers. “And I don’t think it’s going to take all that long, darling,” he growls, sucking your earlobe into his mouth, “because you’re already so fucking wet.”
There’s a small, distant part of you that resents the fact that he’s right about anything, let alone anything pertaining to your orgasms.
The larger part of you is focused on the fact that he’s right: you’re going to come and you’re going to come hard.
Your legs are shaking and you brace your arms against the elevator wall to hold yourself up. You moan loudly and arch your back as the feeling starts building in your hips.
“You need this so badly, don’t you?” He nips hard at your earlobe. “You’re desperate for it. I felt you tense up every time your sopping cunt rubbed against my thigh, every time I touched you just right.”
You whimper, pressure rising in your hips as you rock with his hands.
“You’re so close,” Loki purrs in your ear. His hips are thrusting mindlessly against your ass, like he can’t wait to be inside you.
“Fuck, I need to come,” you whimper.
“Oh, I’m going to make you come, darling, but I think what you really need is to be fucked.”
You moan as your orgasm starts to crest.
“You need to be fucked properly and hard,” he murmurs. “You need me to take care of your sopping wet, needy little cunt. You need to be filled to the brim with my cock and my come like the good girl that you are. You need to come over and over on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.”
This is what pushes you over the edge. The muscles of your cunt clench and then pleasure is blooming in your belly as the tension of the last two hours comes to a peak and you come hard. You cry out, your hips rocking against Loki’s hand, chasing the shimmery aftershocks.
“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he purrs. He holds you as you shudder and shake, his fingers still moving, still coaxing out those final waves of pleasure. But just when you think he’s about to pull his hand away, he starts massaging your clit again, one long finger slipping inside you.
“You don’t think you’re going to be satisfied with just one, do you?” he growls in your ear. “Not a needy girl like you, not when you’ve been dripping for hours. You need more, don’t you?”
“Oh fuck—” You can feel that pressure growing again and you know it’s going to be different this time.
“You’re going to come for me again, pretty girl,” he purrs. “And this time, I want to hear you scream.”
Everything is coiling up so tight and tense and suddenly two of his fingers are inside of you and they’re curling just right and the edges of your vision go white as everything inside you fizzes and releases and a sharp cry falls from your lips as you come.
“Good girl,” his voice rumbles low over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.
His hand finally stills once the final aftershocks roll through you. Your legs are shaking, but his grip on you is still firm. Boneless, you turn to him and he presses his slick fingers past your lips. You suck and lick his fingers clean and then he’s kissing you, sucking your own essence from your lips and tongue.
“Fuck,” you breathe as the elevator shudders to life. “Fuck, that was so good.”
Loki laughs quietly and scoops you up into his arms as the elevator arrives at your floor.
“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, darling.”
Continued in Part 2
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𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿
╹synopsis :: they are hopelessly in love with you, the excitement, the passion and how they want to make their feelings known.
╹contents :: sfw ,fem!reader, based on exo's song "growl", manager y/n in one scenario, beware of whipped (overprotective) egoists, tried to include as many characters as possible
╹notes :: it's my first time doing something like this with song lyrics, i hope i did it well! i honestly didn't know where to put eita whomp whomp, sorry for any grammar mistakes or mischaracterizations.
❝I’m warning you just in case, listen carefully
It’s getting dangerous now, so dangerous
Stop provoking me, there'll be big trouble
I don’t even know what I'll do❞
The after party of the FIFA Awards started to get exhausting, boring even, talking to people left and right, getting more brand deals, you know the usual for a football superstar, he just wanted to enjoy the night drinking and having fun with you. But you are nowhere to be seen to his own dismay, where the heck did you go, it's not like he doesn't trust you - he doesn't trust the ones around you. He craned his neck, scanning the crowded venue in search of your familiar presence, and finally found you, ah you are so beautiful, so mesmerizing, he couldn't take his eyes off you, but you seemed to talk to someone ... let's say he doesn't like at all. He will make sure when playing against his team to score a hat-trick, no a double hat-trick. He felt this gut-wrenching feeling inside his stomach, his heart tightened at the site - his angel next to some random bug. Quickening his pace, he found himself behind you, looking at the man in front of you with utter hatred, realizing who he was dealing with he apologized to you and left. Wrapping his arms around you, securing and claiming you as his once again, whispering in your ear to stop doing these things to him, because he won't be as calm the next time he sees someone who doesn't deserve to be next to you.
Oliver Aiku, Shidou Ryusei, Karasu Tabito, Sheoi Barou, Raichi Jingo, Lavinho
❝My breath keeps stopping, you are walking toward me
You are smiling at me, are you attracted to me too?
My eyes become cloudy when you stare at me
Your breath gets closer to my ears, you’re the one that makes me go crazy❞
Run, receive pass, score - repeat. He was trying to do that the whole practice, but he can't focus when you are here, distracting him. He will pass out not from overwork, but from the fact that his heart will burst at any moment if you keep looking at him with those sparkly e/c eyes, oh, and your smile - you were the motivation that pushed him to give his best on the field and the reason he forgets how to speak, how to think properly, how to function at all. As you approach him with that concerned smile,with your perfect cute looking face, noticing the sweat on his forehead you, reaching out your hand to check if he has temperature because he was burning and you ask him if he is okay, NO HE IS NOT OKAY, your gaze meeting his and like a daydream, his vision begins to get cloudy — he stares into your eyes, and so do you in his. The world around you blurred as your presence dominated his senses. Was it possible that you too, felt the magnetic pull drawing you and him together?
Isagi Yoichi, Yo Hiori, Nanase Nijiro, Julien Loki, Kurona Ranze, Niko Ikki, Alexis Ness
❝So no-one can see you, I want to hide you in my arms (I’m so serious)
All of the stares that want you , whirls up in me a harsh storm❞
He just wanted to have one normal date with you, but of course the paparazzi have to nudge in, all the unwanted stares, camera lights, and the million photos that are probably going to be on every social media tomorrow with the most stupid title. Sometimes he hates the fact that he is famous, everything has it's perks, but right now he wishes for nothing more but to be a normal person with a normal office job. He wanted to hide, and most importantly to hide you from the press. Your relationship is not a secret, but you want to keep it private as much as possible. Without thinking, he gripped your hand tighter and quickened his walking pace, well you were practically running - away from this chaos. As the cacophony of camera clicks faded into the distance, you found solace in the quiet corner of the alley. Panting, without breath, his eyes met yours, and you let a little laugh, what's so funny about people invading your privacy?, but if it meant seeing you with such an adoring smile, he would run the whole world just for that.
Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, Nagi Seishiro, Yukimiya Kenyu, Noel Noa, Leonardo Luna
❝My eyes get sharper, and the tension feels like it could cut
I’m searching around your surroundings, baby
You just stay as you are and look at only me
I’ll never let you go, just watch, baby❞
Scoring the last-minute winning goal he screamed from the adrenaline, releasing the pent-up frustration that had been building throughout the game. The roaring crowd, the teammates' admiration, and the coach's praises all faded into the background, he felt the weight of the stadium disappear as he locked eyes with you from the VIP seats. His heart pounded with the residual rush of adrenaline, and a triumphant smile spread across his face. Your gaze held his, and in that intimate moment, the world outside ceased to exist. For him, every goal, every achievement, was dedicated to you. As the cheers continued around him, he knew that your 'I'm proud of you' meant more than any other praise. In that shared gaze, amidst the triumph, it was one of the biggest victories for him - you were more important than any medal, trophy, or Ballon d'Or. He smiled once again at you, nodding to the inside of the stadium, signaling you to wait there. And you did, understanding that there were moments beyond the public celebration, where the bond between you two was more profound than the thrill of victory itself - and to his luck he got the best reward, a loving kiss on the lips from his one and only.
Michael Kaiser, Mikage Reo, Chigiri Hyoma, Otoya Eita, Bachira Meguru, Kunigami Rensuke
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