anyways... here's why i think Loki and Matt Murdock should be each other's narrative foil(romantic):
• Loki- famously known liar, Matt Murdock- able to tell when people are lying
• Both wear helmets with horns on them, but Matt's are small and practical and Loki's are large and gaudy.
• Matt Murdock- Practicing Irish Catholic, Loki- Norse "God" of Mischief
• Loki- Presents himself as selfish and self preserving, Matt Murdock- Presents himself as selfless and self sacrificing
• Loki- Will flee if he knows he's gonna get his ass kicked for no gain, Matt Murdock- Knows he's gonna get his ass kicked for no gain and does it anyway
• They simply seem like prime material for a "We vehemently dislike each other up until we (whoops!) realize we love each other so much we can't live without the other" type romance that I am always obsessed over.
• Thor would enjoy it, and, frankly, he deserves the entertainment.
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Silver Tongue
18+
A/n: Idk what this is. This thing has been sitting in my drafts for so long, and I haven't posted in forever... so. I finally finished it. Here we go, enjoy.
He could listen to you for hours...
The God of Mischeif, the silvertongue of Gods, he's the God who loved to hear himself speak. Words dripped from his lips like honey, or boomed from his depths in power. He enjoyed talking, it was his tool beside his dagger he welded equally graceful and skillfully.
He'd use it to spark the fear in cowering swine, use it to make snide and conniving comments to wound up midgard's heroes, or to caress your ears just to see you go flush red. His words were his way to get what he wanted but... he found your words all the more captivating.
It wasn't like you were doing this on purpose. On the contrary, you found yourself trying not to spiel thoughtless things to the closest person. For the longest time, Loki saw you for your reverence, your shyness as you worked away in the Avengers Tower. He did know your voice tk be tender and sweet in the caveats of days that passed with your kind greetings, small talk with colleagues and phone messages at your desk, but the moment you got latched on to a topic... Loki found himself listening a little bit more closely.
He watched as your eye lit up, your soft lips breaking out into a grin, one that twitched hesitantly as ti contain the visible excitement he saw bubble up inside you. He'd interrupt anyone in the room that may have been talking over you just to inquire on this small matter with you — a book, a movie, a part of history, a niche topic, a notion — and naturally a blush threatened your cheeks. His eyes softened, nodding to letting you know he was listening and the ends of his lips lift to see that was all you needed -- a greenlight that someone cared. Your hesitant words grew to rants, knowledge flowing from you. Your articulation, the fine words you kept in your hidden reputiore, alongside these thoughts. Soon there were days it was just you and him, sitting somewhere hed catch up, comfortably laxed as he hummed at your shared conversations that transformed into your personal monologues hed sit audience to. All of which hed constantly instigate...
"The- then I read an article about ahh- uhm, L-loki?" You breath hitched and he smirked.
"Yes, darling?"
"You- uh, you sure you want me to..." You breath hitch at the way his breath fans your sensitive neck, "Oh yes, dear." His slender hands trail over you hips and god-perfect thighs under that hideous coat.
"Keep talking to me, you know how much I love your voice." His voice hums lowly, kissing that spot under your ear making your shudder slightly. "So sensitive..." He comments smugly.
He had you situated on your desk. Useless things in his eyes pushed to the side to make room for you. How you got into this situation, who knows. And most importantly, who cares? He stood between your legs, up and close tasting your skin and finally feeling how fucking maluable you are in the palm of his hands. Atlas, hearing you shudder and stutter in his ear, under his touch, it was like he was in Valhalla.
"mm darling~" He purrs. "I don't hear you talking..."
You face flushes. You couldn't think straight. "R-right."
"What this article about, hm? I'm listening..." His words end with another wet kiss to your collar bone. A badge of his sincerity.
"it... it was about mythological.... p-paintings." He hums against your skin, kisses trailing your delicate skin.
"Is that right?" He murmurs, before sucking experimentally on a spot only to smirk at the gasp and sigh he elicits from you almost instantly.
"A-about gods and hah..." Loki rubs circles over your hips. "About their heavenly battles," his hands run over your underside of your thighs, smoothing over the plushness before gripping it needily, "them as legends... their- their beauty." He pulls you close to the edge, and your eyes widen at the feeling of his bulge against your inner thigh.
"No need to read about gods when you already have one in the palm of your hands, darling." His snake-like gaze meets yours, his nose brushing yours. His emerald eyes glimmer at your flushed complexion. His fingers graze the band of your leggings. "May I?" He asks softly.
You nod your head.
In a rough yet swift motion, he easily pulls down your pants past your ass and down to your thighs. You watch as his gaze darkens at the sight and you blush, embarrassed. The way his eyes are glued to the wet patch over your clothed pussy makes you squirm. "Lokii..." You whine softly at his long silence. He ignores you. His slender fingers suddenly brush your damp panties, marvelling at the way your cunt involuntarily quivers. He could feel his cock twitch at the view.
His hand comes up hard against the underside of your thigh. The harsh slap echoes in the empty office space. He towers over you and your knees held together by the band of your leggings, hugging your thighs deliciously. One of his large hands pinning you in this position from the back of your knee while the other rubs the pink mark of your skin in forgiveness.
"You stopped speaking, my pretty dove~" He says. His palm travels to your drooling pussy, and he glances at it. The smug grin on his lips widens ever so slightly, satisfied by the growing dark spot on the thin fabric. He audibly groans at the feeling; the wetness pressed against his skin, the heat that radiates from you. All for him, he thinks.
"I want to hear it. Your melodic voice, darling." He continues. Your breath hitches as he drag his middle and forefinger down your slit so easily. "You may think no one's listening... the way you murmur and talk so sweetly, to even the most unworthy of such a sound..." His flattery words drip from his silvery tongue akin to honey and poison. "You have no idea the state you reduce me to when you whisper instructions in my ear when I'm on those god-awful missions... it's the only reason I keep attending." He preens, and he sinks a thumb in your clothed fold, a devilish smirk gracing his lips at your shocked and broken moan.
His eyes glimmered at the way you struggle to walk the line of thought and the abyss of pleasure. He leans down, his lips just tickling the shell of your ear. He breathes steadily compared to your laboured breaths, pausing for a moment to resist the urge to bite you before speaking, "So I want you to speak, my love. I want to hear you babble every frivolous thought as I ravish you. Fucking you to the sound of you trying to retain a single coherent notion. Choking on your words as I listen intently... giving you the attention you deserve, darling."
He pulls back slowly, his nose lightly caressing your cheek as he meets your cloudy eyes. Through hooded lids, his intense gaze flickers over your flushed expression. Your desperate eyes and parted lips, swollen from how much you bit them just to controll yourself — only makes him want to try harder to push you over the edge. You feel his thumb press up against the hood of your clit, and the way you whimper and pull at his clothes, tells him he's the first to ever touch you like this.
"Mm, would you like that?" He whispers. "Finally give you the attention you always deserved?"
He presses on your clit, "m- y-yes! Yes Loki, please." You blurt, you felt like you were going to cry.
"Oh darling..." He removes his hands off you to cup your face. A wanton whine bubbles up into your throat until the feeling of his lips against your forehead, dissolving your pent-up frustration for just a moment. "Patience." He says softly. "I'll give you want you so clearly desire..." His forehead touches yours. Burning hot skin against his contrastingly cool complexion.
However, looking up into his eyes, they were burning with want.
"Let's start with the article's first paragraph, shall we?"
He was going to eat you alive.
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