#loki jealous!reader

mama will provide

yikes this one is really spicy too

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“You’re like…a really good kisser.”

Loki grins and gives you yet another perfect, lazy kiss, pulling you onto his lap. “You truly think so?”

“Mmmmhm.”

Honestly, you could stay here forever, just slowly running your hands through his hair with arms draped around his neck, keeping him pulled against your lips. His hands roam freely and happily, one slipping under your shirt while the other floats down to the curve of your back.

It’s just perfect, he’s perfect, the way he holds you as though you are the last thing on Earth he will ever touch and how he kisses you oh so perfectly…

Your bodies meld together perfectly, your lips work in tandem perfectly, his hands caress your jaw and tease you perfectly, his eyelashes brush against your face perfectly, his tongue sneaks past your lips to better taste you perfectly, perfect, perfect, per-fect.

You don’t even care that you’re not really “making out” anymore, just sitting together and relishing the softness of each other’s lips.

It’s just…it’s right.

Peaceful, calm. Him. He seems to be enjoying this too, his features softer than you’ve ever seen them, parted lips moving lazily against yours as his hands memorise the planes of your skin.

But of course, the dipshit kills the soft moment when he opens his mouth and murmurs into the kiss. “I suppose hundreds of years of practice do make perfect.”

Mmm, no, you don’t like that one. bit.

“Hey…” you push him away, a little hurt by the fact that he would bring something like that up while you’re actually on his lap, lips locked with his. “Did you really have to say that?”

The god looks confused at your retreat, raising an eyebrow and immediately leaning forward in a silent request for your lips again.

You turn your head at the last second and his kiss lands on your cheek instead.

His face falls and he gives a pleading, desperate mewl of shock and disappointment at the failure of his attempt, a hand coming up to try and bring you back to face him. Not wanting to give in just yet, you fight against his fingers trying to tilt your head back to his face until he gives up with a sigh.

“Did I have to say what?” He asks, leaning back on his hands while you cross your arms.

“That you’ve had years of practice. Or really…any practice at all.”

Loki laughs, evidently surprised. “Darling, how else do you expect me to know how to please you?” He starts tracing a daring hand down your spine, bringing a chill across your skin. “How am I to know how to give you what you crave? How to make your back arch beneath me? How to rip my name from your throat time after time after time…”

“Okay, stop it.” You smack the back of his head and climb off him. “I don’t want to hear that.”

Keeping his eyes trained on your retreating form, he sits up with a slender finger lightly brushing over his bottom lip, wishing your lips were back on his. He’s waiting for you to say something, to explain yourself and to come back to his lap, but you grab Loki’s discarded button-up off the floor and slip it over your tank top, seating yourself in a chair across the room.

He’s not exactly helping his case.

“Have I, ah…ruined the moment?” His gaze travels the length of your body, his eyes undeniably darkening at the sight of you in his shirt. Maybe you had done that on purpose, making yourself so irresistible before keeping yourself out of his reach…of course you had.

Two can play his game.

“You murdered it, actually,” you tell him, your mind already filling with horrifying images of Loki with any of his previous lovers—warriors, actual goddesses, mythical creatures, taller than you, more attractive than you, not you.

You can’t help but shudder just at the thought. “Look, I don’t want to think about that. You with someone…not me.”

A stupid, awful, ravenous grin spreads over his face and he pulls himself to his feet. “Not you?” He’s slow to stalk across the floor towards you, a hungry glint in his eye as he reaches his destination. “My darling, my treasured mortal…you couldn’t possibly be jealous of my ridiculous, uninfluential, years forgotten trysts, could you?”

He’s crowding over your curled up form, leaning forward to rest his weight on his hands on either arm of the chair. You want to recoil at the way he is leering at you, far too amused by your possessiveness, but instead you sit up straighter and glare right back at him.

His voice is a low, primal growl. “Answer me.”

“Oh, come on, of course I’m not jealous,” you croon, lifting a bare foot to his stomach and pushing him away from you. “You know I don’t get jealous…don’t you, Loki.” His name passes your lips sweet as honey and he surges forward again, but your leg keeps him away.

“How uncharacteristically bold of you, my love, to lie so plainly to the god of lies.” He’s quick to join your little game and cold fingers wrap around your outstretched ankle, tracing teasingly up your bare leg.

You wrench your leg from his grip before he can reach too high, crossing it over the other and effectively closing yourself off from the god’s hungered touch. “I think I’ve done a good job making sure everyone else knows you are mine,” you say thoughtfully, playing with the buttons of Loki’s shirt. “But it seems that you, my sweet prince, have forgotten.”

Loki falls to his knees much too eagerly, too quickly abandoning his power over the situation. “Remind me, darling, I beg of you. Remind me.”

“No.”

The god actually whines in front of you, a pathetic, desperate whimper that brings an involuntary smile to your lips.

“You owe me an apology,” you hum, enjoying the control in your hands. “You started talking about old whores while it was my taste on your tongue.”

You lean forward as his face falls, finally recognising his mistake, and you flick your tongue lightly over his lips. Loki hisses and lunges towards you at the teasing movement, heartfelt apologies and words of honest praise already spilling from his mouth, but you throw a hand up to stop him in his tracks with a finger pressed to his lips.

“Oh, Loki…I know your silver tongue can do better than that.”

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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

“I like her…”

Um…excuse me. What in the name of Niðavellir is that smirk about?

That scientist woman had slapped him across the face and granted, you’d laughed—he deserved it. But then he said he likes her, giving her that amused little smirk, that slow, deliberate blink…

Now he’s staring down at her and she won’t look away, huffing a strand of hair out of her face; who does she think she is?

Um, only you get to slap him. That’s one of the perks of being his lover.

Thor’s dragged his brother off with the handsy little midgardian trailing behind before you have a chance to butt in on the interaction. You call out to him, stepping out from the doorway you had been watching from, but it’s too late and the little group is out of sight, Loki still in those damned cuffs.

Oh well…you’ll have an earful for him when he gets home.

It takes a few days.

Yes, days, which is absolutely infuriating, knowing Loki is off doing god knows what and probably in much too close proximity of that girl—Jane, you’d found out she calls herself.

Good thing he likes her. Let’s see if he still likes you, since he seems to have forgotten that you’re waiting here for him.

So when he eventually stumbles back through the door to your chambers one cold Asgardian night, you’re relieved, to say the least, but not exactly happy.

You’re lounging on the couch next to a cackling fire and may or may not have dressed up a bit more than usual, but that’s beside the point.

He hadn’t even bothered to look back at you when he had left. No reassuring smirk, no wink to convince you he still has the upper hand, no sweeping kiss to linger in his absence.

Nothing.

“Oh. So you’ve decided to come back after all.” You don’t look up from your book, draping a hand on your hip.

“I’m sorry, darling, my brother…” he trails off as he undoes the first strap of leathered armour, his eyes falling on you as if for the first time.

Something is off about you. You haven’t looked at him since he’s walked in, laying across the couch with your head propped up on your hand, and you seem to have put on some kind of gown; something nearly sheer and effervescent but made of a dark fabric, catching in the rays of moonlight streaming through the curtains.

It looks soft. Heavenly soft.

“Might I ask what the occasion is?” He expected you to be upset, it’s only natural, he had been dragged off—handcuffed—into space by his oaf of a brother without so much as saying goodbye to you. But you haven’t said anything, asked anything, you’re just laying there looking sinfully tempting with the slit of the gown dashing up to your hip—not at all the sight he expected to come home to.

Your eyes flit up from the pages to meet his with a sweet smile. “Your homecoming, I suppose.” You swing your legs off the couch and snap the book shut, sauntering across the room to a bookshelf in the corner of the room, turning your back to him. “Welcome home, Loki.”

The gown falls in a low arch down your back. Draped around your neck he can see a thin gold chain, nearly invisible but catching in the moonlight, and Loki can’t help the smug smile tugging at his lips—you had missed him.

“Take your quarrels up with my brother,” he calls over his shoulder, turning his back to you as well and stalking to the walk-in closet. “This was entirely his doing.”

You hear more belts unlatching, the clatter of multiple knives dropped on a dresser-top, the rustling of leather and clinking of metal, and you convince yourself not to turn around. “Quarrels? Loki,” you laugh, skimming a finger along the spine of an unread book, “I have no quarrels. I’m happy you’re home.”

The emerald set in the centre of the tiny gold sun seems colder than usual against your collarbone.

“Don’t lie to me, darling.” You hear him sigh and there’s a thud as he shuts a drawer with a touch more force than normal. “It insults me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Look, you’ve just done it again.” He sounds amused, almost wanting to laugh; the fact that you can hear that sets your blood boiling.

You’re about to turn on your heel and let him have it for leaving you and laughing when the necklace tightens around your throat; Loki is suddenly behind you, breathing down your neck, and has a finger hooked under the chain of the necklace.

“Did you forget to take this off?”

A shiver wracks your body and you swallow thickly. “No, I left it on on purpose. I didn’t know if-when you were coming back.”

“You have no need for it now.” Deft fingers undo the clasp and carefully tug the chain from around your neck, and Loki dips his head down to ghost his lips up the curve of your neck. “I’m home, aren’t I?”

His hands float up to rest on your hips, slowly pulling you back against him. The gold necklace has been resting heavy these past few days. “A sun,” he had murmured as he reached around you to put it on you for the first time, “for the light of my darkened world.”

There’s fragments of an actual star housed under the emerald in the centre, fitting in a gift from a god. “Wear this if you ever feel apart from me.” He had latched it and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “You’ll never be alone, these stars shine only for us.”

A beautifully sweet, eloquent sentiment, not unlike your lover, but it’s gradually gathered more of a negative connotation whenever you wear it. You only wear it when he’s gone or you feel separated: the last time you wore it, he had been gone for months and you almost gave up hope for him to ever return to you.

So to see you wearing it now, after only being gone a few measly days…a hint of pride worms it’s way into Loki’s heart. 

Being missed certainly feels…validating.

“I was only gone a few days,” he chuckles, cool breath tickling the nape of your neck. “I must have more of a hold on your heart than I realise.”

You lean away from him and turn around, glaring coldly up at him. “You hold my entire heart, idiot. And I’d appreciate if you took better care of it.”

“How might I do that?”

“Maybe not go running off into space with random women for days on end?” You cross your arms around yourself and push past him with a scowl. “Just a suggestion.”

Loki laughs, a cold, amused grin on his face. “Ah yes…Jane. That’s what this is about.” He stalks across the room to the closet where you are pretending to be interested in the daggers he had left on the dresser. “She’s quite intelligent, actually. That was a pleasant surprise.”

Why does he think you care??

“…but she was rather too dull for my taste,” he continues, waiting for you to turn around. You don’t give him the pleasure and he realises you aren’t going to, so he steps up against you with a sigh, pressing himself against your back and leaning with two arms on either side of you bracing him on the dresser.

“Good for my brother, I suppose, but I prefer my partners to be more…” he leans forward, nipping at your ear and eliciting a surprised squeak from you. “Adventurous.”

The closet door slams shut of its own accord.

The god buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply. “I missed you,” he promises, voice muffled. “I thought of you every single day. I…craved you.”

He’s moving now, making your brain draw a blank when he spins you around and has you pinned against the dresser in a manner of seconds, his body pressed to yours.

“Every minute, every second I was away from you, I missed you.”

You almost scoff, but then he kisses you and you can’t help but believe it. It’s the kiss of a starving man, desperate for your touch again but laced with a desire to…almost impress you, you think.

“You don’t believe me,” he whispers when he finally pulls away for a breath, hands coming up to cradle your face.

“No, I—of course I do.” Flashing him a sure smile, you wind your arms around his neck and pull him back into another searing kiss. “I trust you, Loki.”

He quietly hums into your lips for a moment, letting you dictate the depth of the kiss before pulling away with a loud smack. “You’re lying to me again,” he grins. “We’ve discussed this.”

You immediately open your mouth to tell him that you’re not lying, that you do trust him—because you do! It is the truth! It might be hiding under a comfy blanket of envy, though: he does like her, after all. But Loki stops you before you can get a word out with a long finger to your lips, shushing you with a knowing smile.

“Don’t do it again.” The warning in his voice sends a chill down your spine—a wonderful, addicting chill that you’ve missed. “I can prove it to you, if that’s what it will take.”

“L-Loki, what are you—”

He’s reached around you for one of the knives discarded on the shelf behind you, now slowly dragging the tip of it up the front of your gown in one sure swipe, ripping the fabric clean in two.

“What a shame,” he sighs, looking you up and down. You stare down at your ruined dress in shock and he places the flat edge of the knife under your chin, carefully tipping your head up to look at him.

His lips just barely meet yours this time, teasingly close but yet so horribly far, and the metal of the knife is cold under your chin. Clearly, your trust in him is true: you’re letting him hold a knife to your throat—and you think you might like it.

“I like this dress,” you halfheartedly hiss at him, shuddering when his cold hand slips under your now-open gown.

“I apologise…but I like you.” His open mouth plants a heated trail up the curve of your neck and you try everything in your power not to melt just yet.

Loki notices your struggle and smiles into your skin. “Such a beautiful dress will be dearly missed.”

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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!