bakerstreet | Bat signal for smut picture prompts

[ m/f and m/m ]

one two three four but also if you really want to mess with him I suggest a dash of this

[ hey! requesting clarification on the last one - loki impersonating peggy or loki as a woman, or either? ]

[ I was leaning toward the first one with that prompt, but either is good if there's something specific that inspires you :) ]

[ right on, let me know if this works or if it needs adjustment! going with loki impersonating peggy to start, a little deviation from thor 2. sorry for the length; it's just for the setup. ]

[ The thing about faking one's death is that the intended result can fall a little off the mark if one is, in fact, notably injured. So it goes with Loki's plan to claim Asgard's throne following the battle with the Dark Elves in their forsaken home realm. Though he succeeds in convincing Thor of his fatal demise, Loki succumbs to his wounds and loses consciousness -- momentarily, but enough for him to wake up in an area that is decidedly neither Svartalfheim nor Asgard.

No, Loki realizes, grimacing as he lifts himself off a pile of garbage bags in a poorly lit alleyway, This is Midgard. Again.

Convergence fuckery.

His second realization, coming hot on the disappointment of the first, is the stench of smoke and fire magick in the air. Unbeknownst to Loki, the Convergence also dumped a handful of fire demons from Muspelheim into the very city it dumped him. The Avengers had been dispatched to handle the disturbances around the country, but the Captain had remained here to deal with the demons on his own. Loki learns of the latter when, stumbling out of the alleyway, clutching the wound through his chest and swallowing blood, the Captain's voice rings firm and clear, reporting -- Loki assumes -- to his comrades.

A jolt of alarm runs down his spine. The blood in the back of his throat makes him cough. The Captain's head is turning to face him and he hasn't got time to lickity-split, and so his panicked mind reaches for every piece of dirt he gleaned about Captain America on that ill-fated attempt to conquer Earth.

He takes the form of Peggy Carter as she was in 1945. He hears the good Captain say her name in concern -- tinged with suspicion, perhaps. Loki isn't sure; he blacks out soon after.

--

When Loki awakens, he's surprised to find himself in what appears to be a mundane, small bedroom. He's less surprised to find bindings at his neck and wrists, their chains interlinked much the same as when he was presented to Odin after his stint on Midgard. They allow him some measure of movement, and so he wonders what purpose they might serve. Given that he wakes in the form of Peggy Carter still, he does not test their strength lest he find them designed for mere mortals and unintentionally break his cover.

His clothing, a simple coral blouse with a high waisted pencil skirt in navy based on his memory of her image, also appears intact, though the neckline and chest are bloodied. Curiously, the blouse isn't buttoned all the way -- the cause, he sees, to be the bandaging beneath it. A mirthless smirk tugs at his lips, for this all is adding up to something peculiar, a context he isn't quite grasping. A chance, he surmises, to explain, but guarded. Wary.

Whoever patched him up doesn't know his true identity. He'd be in 'appropriate' containment otherwise.

He rises from the bed. The movement triggers a coughing fit; specks of blood splatter against his forearm. So much for stealth. ]

[ The thing about being an Avenger, something that Steve's been learning with increasing frustration, is that it doesn't seem to matter how much craziness his life has had in it already (and there's a lot, the Red Skull, HYDRA, aliens attacking New York?) there's always something else waiting just around the corner. Case in point. Around this corner and down between a dumpster and some overflowing sacks of garbage, the revelation that waits for him just about knocks him off his feet.

To be fair, he's exhausted. Facing fire demons is hard enough, but it turns out that in places around the city, pockets of gas have made the New York sewers explosive. Charred, and worn out, but at least happy to have beaten back the ragged band of creatures that had seemingly come out of nowhere, he'd been on his way home when he heard the disturbance. Maybe another demon, or maybe someone who needed help. Even if it was just somebody staggering home drunk, Steve was required to at least check it out, stepping into the alleyway and squinting through the dimly lit darkness.

It's a woman. And by the time he's reaching her, by the time she's falling, Steve recognizes her.

His strange day was getting stranger, and Steve? He wasn't sure, this time, he'd quite be able to cope with it. ]

---

[ Steve doesn't take her anywhere official. If it's really Peggy, then she doesn't need that, and he's protective enough of her not to want her to wake up the way he did, in some strange room with a strange nurse, wrapped in lies and deceit and wrangled into a war that's not her own. They don't need to know about this. Still, the wounds almost make him reconsider. He does his best, but he can't help but think she needs a hospital, a doctor, not the haphazard patching together of someone who learned first aid while standing in eight inches of German mud.

The greatest effort is made to clean her up without gawking. Wrap the bandages without looking too hard at the parts of her he shouldn't be looking too hard at, especially when she's sleeping. And when he's done, she's still breathing, which is the greatest comfort of all. And she's still exactly how he remembers her. Lips painted red with more than lipstick, but otherwise not a single hair out of place.

It's heartbreaking to think that maybe this isn't her. How could it be? But if anyone is in a position to believe it's possible, it's Steve. If he secures the chains, the cuffs, it's only because he's lovesick, but not stupid. No. Stupid is reserved for the look in his face when he comes running back in from the kitchen at the sound of her coughing, rushing over to Loki's side and crouching close, with a hand on her shoulder to keep her from sitting up any further, and perhaps urge her to settle back down. ]

Don't try to move. It's okay, you're safe.

[ A beloved ally, indeed, he thinks, for how quickly the Captain rushes to Peggy Carter's aid. How readily the reassurance falls from his lips. Loki stares at him, openly questioning the man before him, the hand at his shoulder.

A frown creases his face. He places his smaller hand upon Steve Rogers' wrist; the shackles clink gently with the movement. ]

What's this, then? [ 'she' asks, injecting a note of hard suspicion into 'her' voice with a pointed gaze upon the bindings. A fine line he must tread, not knowing much of Peggy Carter beyond an idea. Loki must offer enough rope with which the Captain might hang himself and no more lest Loki hang instead. ]

[ Steve's eyebrows rise an inch or two almost immediately, and after that there was a flash of guilt, solidifying into a more helpless kind of guilty sorrow tinged with shame. It's Peggy. Steve can see that. Peggy's small hand curled around his wrist, Peggy's soft brown eyes staring up at him with recognition, concern and suspicion. It's Peggy's voice that asks him for an explanation that he isn't sure he knows how to give.

It aches in his chest, having her bound like this. It's shameful, even without the perverted implications that might go hand in hand with it. Chaining up women isn't something Steve goes around doing for fun.

But the possibility, given the day that he's been having, that this isn't Peggy Carter? Better shame and caution, surely, than being caught unawares by something else. ]

Do you trust me? [ He asked, finally, voice strained. ] I promise you're safe with me. This is just a necessary precaution, okay? For both our benefit.

[ Whether or not she is really Peggy, Steve's pretty sure an actual explanation for the chains will go down badly. Instead he clears his throat, brow furrowing. ] How do you feel? You were hurt badly, do you remember how this happened?

[ Safe with me, hm? Loki wonders if Rogers has discovered the snake amidst the self-proclaimed shield-bearers of Midgard. Why else would he risk her deterioration in his bed with such a wound?

All the better for Loki. Even more so when Steve practically offers him an excuse for his unfamiliarity with Peggy beyond a caricature. With an arched brow and a mildly exasperated look, he removes his hand from Steve's wrist and says, ] As if I would...n't.

[ A frown creases his expression, his gaze unfocusing as he leaves the sentence unfinished -- all to sell the lie, of course, that Peggy Carter does not, in fact, remember.

Much of anything.

Gaze hardening, Loki glances down at his bandaged chest, then meets the Captain's eyes. ] You attended to my wounds. You've my gratitude for that. My trust, however, is not won so easily.

[ It's a gamble, but it's all he's got right now -- so he thinks. ]

[ See, that's the thing, isn't it? He and Peggy haven't even been on a single date. They've shared odd conversations, mostly on base but more often over the war table, but Steve had spent most of his time after meeting her on active duty of one kind or another, and she was a busy woman too, off being a spy. Besides, HYDRA's tesseract based weapons program wasn't waiting around for them to kick back and take a vacation. Even a breather was out of the question.

All he could hope was that being earnest was convincing enough, and when her eyes meet his, hard and a little unforgiving, the guilt he feels is that much greater. He can remember how disorienting it was to wake up in another time. If it's really her, and it could be, stranger things had happened, then she's woken up just like him, lost and confused and injured, but also imprisoned by someone she would expect to be able to trust in this scenario. She's right. He hasn't earned it. And Steve would be running out that door right now if he were the one who'd woken up in chains.

The prickling warmth left behind by her touch on his wrist almost feels alive, the sensation tingling in the wake of her touch, and Steve can't help his disappointment. In himself, in his suspicion, in this world. This wasn't how he'd ever wanted them to reunite. He'd imagined a kiss, perhaps, like the one she'd given him before he flew off into the sky and disappeared from her life and from the century he lived in permanently.

His hand comes up, settling on her knee. It's not an intentional gesture, and in fact the moment he feels her skin under the palm of his hand Steve blushes, surprised by himself, but nor does he remove his hand, his fingers curling gently beneath, pressing against the pulse underneath her knee. Steve was very aware of what his hand was doing, watching himself do it, but he felt almost as though he were in a dream, in regards to his control of the touch. ]

Would you think it strange if I told you that you've fallen through time? That this isn't... What year is it, for you? Before or after I disappeared?

[ So Steve blushes, but Loki also feels the creeping warmth from the captain's touch, seeding through his veins up his thigh like a gentle fire. Loki cannot imagine why the touch affects him so, not yet realizing that his tumble through the realms during the Convergence hadn't gone unscathed. He knows only that something is amiss.

Troubling. Like he needs yet one more unknown to navigate. ]

What would you like to hear? [ he asks instead, tearing his eyes away from Steve's wrist disappearing beneath his knee to fix him with a prim look. ] I suspect that will be as helpful as anything else I might say.

[ There's a flickering uncertainty in Steve's expression, because it's not the answer he's expecting. Or an answer at all, in fact. Except Steve is all set up to make excuses for her, and to feel so guilty that he takes all of this on his own shoulders. ]

After, then. [ Because he interpreted her look and her words as being angry with him. He doesn't blame her for that, for being mad at him not for missing their date, but for flying that thing into the ice in the first place. He's thought about it over and over again, as people tend to do after accidents, seeing the thousand different ways he could have made a different choice, the opportunities he'd had to both save the world and escape alive. Just as he knows, now, that there's a certain element of grief and guilt that had pushed him to make that decision. If he'd seen the alternatives, he hadn't wanted to see them. He'd told himself that enough times in scorn that occasionally he even believed it. Maybe she had, too. ]

I did what I thought I had to. And I'm sorry. I never meant to... [ Leave her behind? Not come home? Miss their date? They all sound hollow on the back of his tongue, now.

His hand is traveling up the underside of her thigh, easing under the bottom of the tight skirt, his eyes still watching himself do it. The buzz of warmth where their skin is touching is endlessly distracting, and any possibility that he might find more words fades away as he spreads his palm out wide to feel more of her warm, delicious skin against his palm and fingers. ]

[ An expulsion of a breathy laugh that carries a note of uncertainty behind it falls from his painted-red lips. Steve Rogers is, essentially, feeling him up and he's getting turned on -- Norns, something is amiss, indeed. ]

Your apology might mean something to the person you think I am. [ Loki's fingers clutch the bedding on each side of him, the action unconscious, a means of trying to dispel the growing heat between his thighs, but it might also come off as defensive. Apprehensive, despite the steadiness in his expression. ] You know me, supposedly, but I haven't a clue who you're meant to be.

[ Perhaps the claim of amnesia might startle enough to afford them both enough time to gather their wits -- Loki, at least, to determine a way out of this absolute mess. He wonders if he tumbled through Alfheim, recalling the realm of indulgence and magick and pleasure boasting several bothersome plants that had led to days (and nights) of debauchery back when things were much less complicated. That would explain the budding lust in his system and, consequentially, the contamination of the Captain's. ]

[ It's actually the most painful thing Loki could do to him. Agony flits across his expression. Remembering arriving in the future, finding out that Peggy's alive, but that she flits in and out of her memories; sometimes thinking he's alive, sometimes dead, sometimes not knowing him at all. It's heartbreaking, and he's visibly stung, tearing his eyes away from hers for a moment, huffing out a wretched breath, resisting the temptation to weep. He's been strong for her like this so many times, caught unawares, but she was older. It was age that had done this, and this Peggy is young and vibrant and beautiful, like he remembers her.

It's savage to imagine that the thing he's always wanted is there with him and doesn't even remember his name. Or perhaps even her own.

Galling enough that he really should take his hand off her. Nethertheless it's like his actions are completely at odds with the conversation they're having. Not even his despair is stopping him from brushing his thumb against her panties. It's wanton, and Steve flushes red, horrified and ashamed of himself and yet still, judging by the way his fingers curl in the fragile fabric and pull, ripping them down the middle, completely incapable of stopping. ]

I'm Steve. I'm your Steve. It's okay if you don't remember. I'll help you.

[ Oh, he thinks when that agony flickers across the Captain's face. He ought to feel guilt (and maybe he does -- just a bit -- in passing only).

Oh no, he thinks when the measly fabric yields to the Captain's touch, exposing the awful fact that Loki's already wet and throbbing for him. They're both in for it now. Does he attempt to flee and ride out the effects of whatever is coursing through their respective veins alone or with another, or does he take advantage of the Captain's presence and mutual intoxication to satisfy them both? The idea of fucking, or being fucked, by Steve Rogers ought to cause more repulsion than it does -- a faint crease to his brow because their moral compasses and priorities couldn't be more different, and yet--

It's quite clear to Loki that Peggy Carter is loved by this individual. That there's a sore lack of closure and a desperate need for it. Loki is not altruistic. Nothing about anything in this situation can be considered good, but he supposes they might both gain something beyond satisfying this unnatural need to couple: Steve, his closure, and a potential opportunity to escape for Loki once the former is spent.

So these thoughts flit around his skull like a whirlwind. Between one blink and the next, a decision is made. ]

My Steve, [ he echoes, lifting a chained wrist to his hips, searching for the fastening that's sure to -- there, as his fingers brush against the zipper at his side. He tugs it down, making his answer to Steve's advances clear. ] Show me, Steve, how you're mine.

[ Really, Steve was the one who ought to be doing something about stopping this. If he knew who it was, how this had happened, why he felt the way he did, then he might have just rolled his eyes at the expectation that Loki would be the one to step up and do the right thing. But Steve? Steve was supposed to be the honorable one. Right on the surface of it, even without knowing, or especially in a situation where this was truly Peggy, and she truly didn't remember him, he ought to be the one cutting this short, tearing his hands away and putting an end to it.

What kind of man would take advantage of this? What kind of honorable, decent gentleman went about ripping the underwear of a woman in bondage, whether he believed her to be a shapeshifting alien or not? And let's face it, he didn't. He had every reason to believe this was Peggy and he was still touching her, the brush of his knuckles against her sex, his eyes dull from the spread of the aphrodisiac.

So much for the noble Captain America, nostrils flaring as she unzipped her skirt. That was all he needed. The invitation overwhelmed him, the last fragile barrier to an already battered mess of discarded ethics. ]

You're hurt, [ He said, like that was any kind of protest. He was already peeling her skirt down her slender legs. Not touching her skin made him feel dizzy, and he was back as soon as he could be, his broad hand stroking stockinged thighs while he dipped in to brush a kiss just above the fabric. The scent of her, so close, inspired a moan, and anything Steve was going to say about this being a bad idea, that she needed to stop him if she felt faint, was discarded as easily as the shreds of her underwear, doing little to stop his eager pursuit of her need. Lips fell against her, soft as a kiss, then the teasing flit of his tongue, and Steve was besotted.

How long had he wanted this? So long. Too long. ]

[ Breath caught in the back of his throat from the Captain's touches, it was all Loki could do to keep from throwing himself into the other man's obvious desire. Even if the chemicals of nature were to blame for their primal urges, Loki still possessed some sense of pride. Too much, still, others would say -- and they would be correct.

Regardless, the attention drew out a breathy whine and an involuntary jerk of his hips. He reached out, the chains clinking lightly as his fingers threaded through the Captain's hair. ]

Then take care as you do it, [ he murmured, cheeks flushed a rosy pink to complement Peggy's crimson lips. ] Something tells me you always do.

[ Steve didn't know about always. This wasn't exactly something he'd done all that often. Girls hadn't much gone for him when he was a shrimpy kid, and while there had been the odd trysts both sides of the ice, his heart had belonged only to Peggy this entire time. Steve didn't know what would feel good, other than doing more of what his body told him he needed to do, while listening intently to hers at the same time. Kissing the wet sweetness of her sex was only the start. The flit of his tongue had elicited an eager sound, a twitch of her hips toward his face, and Steve was eager to give more.

With her fingers curling in his hair, and the view of her looking down at him as he knelt between her thighs, flush with excitement and urging him to continue, Steve was more than eager to lose himself in this act as with any other. He could be gentle. He could take care, offering more of his tongue this time to drag the wide flat of it along her slit, eagerly licking up as much of her wetness as he can. His next effort went deeper, pushing his tongue in to explore the source, and yet it wasn't until he pulled back and teased higher, finding the already firm bud of her clit, that Steve thought perhaps he'd done anything so well as he needed to.

Heat flushed in his own cheeks, his cock responding in kind to her arousal, and Steve brought one of his hands from her thighs to her heat. This part he'd done before, though usually not from this particular angle, with this particular view. He was gentle, starting with one finger pushing up into her silky warmth while eagerly flitting his tongue above it, to offer the pleasure she needed beyond the intrusion. ]

[ Oh, but did the good Captain America know how to utilize his tongue. Stifled whines fill the air as Loki struggled against the sharply rising urge to grind into the other man's face, his fingers curling into Steve's hair as his walls clenched around his digit. The spread of his thighs had been an unconscious decision to allow Steve the access they both craved, but now Loki focused on keeping them apart despite his quivering. ]

Steve, [ he gasped -- or moaned, perhaps -- but, most likely, both. A part of his mind was still present enough to consider it peculiar, the way the Captain's name rolled off his tongue so eagerly, but it was easily shushed by the unrelenting pleasure building in his core, coating Steve in the thick slickness of his lust as he rocked into him. ] I'm not some-- some dainty thing-- oh!

[ The last gasp was punctuated by the dig of his nails into the Captain's scalp. ]

[ Oh, it was everything he could have ever wanted. Some logical part of his mind was still clinging to the fact that this act was profoundly wrong, that the coils of chain trickling down his back as she held onto him was strange, but the drugs coursing through him, alien and refreshed by their continued touching, insisted that he was right where he swanted and needed to be. Even if not for that, the sounds of her pleasure would have kept him occupied just as he was, stroking with his one finger, and teasing with his tongue while she stirred a whole orchestra of delights. She was beautiful, aroused, warm and sexy, and while Steve had never learned an instrument he had to admit that he thought he was playing this one particularly well.

She was begging him for more pressure, and he wasn't the kind of man not to give a lady exactly what she needed. In this case a second finger, and something like an apology. ]

Of course you aren't, Peg. Course not.

[ His next thrust was rougher, even though he'd just begun with a second finger. She seemed to want it, need it, and she certainly seemed more than capable of taking it, and yet Steve was pulling his mouth away, rubbing his damp cheek against the inside of her thigh before clambering higher. Thank god he'd changed out of his costume; it was easier to get his cock free from just a pair of jeans, pressing up against the slick accumulating in the palm of his hand as he arched in closer. ]

I missed you, [ He breathed, a rattle low in his chest, an ache of need strained through his voice. He fucked her with his fingers as he spoke, gradually building the rhythm higher. ] Dreamed of you every night. Dreamed of dancing with you, being inside you. You're my best girl, Peg, and I need you.

[ Steve Rogers did play him well, this instrument masquerading as another. The loss of his mouth allowed Loki the briefest of recoveries, watching the other man free his cock with greedy anticipation. A sharp whine escaped his throat as the second digit slipped into him, almost enough but not quite until the pace increased, the Captain's knuckles meeting his cunt with every thrust in a manner Loki knew would ache so deliciously when all was said and done. His chest heaved with panted breaths and half-stifled noises of desire so thick it drowned out the prickling ache of the wound in his chest. ]

Do you? [ he rasped, fisting Steve's hair, golden as it were, to expose the underside of his jaw. Crimson lips hovered millimeters from the Captain's neck. ] Show me. Show me just how much you need me.

[ Without waiting for a response, Loki bit down and sucked on the vulnerable skin with enough force to leave a bruise, Peggy's lipstick smearing amongst the saliva and sweat. ]

[ He couldn't control himself, couldn't hold back from being unneccessarily rough with her while under the influence, couldn't restrain his need to something purely human. Perhaps it was lucky she wasn't really Peggy, because by now he would almost certainly have hurt her. Even injured, Loki is tougher than that, capable of taking the full power of his hand pressing up into her, and fully capable of sinking his teeth down into his throat and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise on super soldier skin.

If he were able, perhaps this would have been the moment for him to question reality, but Steve doesn't. He brings one of his knees just a little higher, giving him the angle he needs to slide along the groove made by his own fingers, slipping the tips of them free just as his thumb pressed down the head of his cock to take their place. It was almost cool to the touch against the sensitive head, and only for the briefest moment before he pushed inside and heat enfulfed him.

Again, no restraint. Again, no hesitation. He pushed deep and rough, burying his cock halfway, changing the angle subtly, then pushing in three inches deeper. Not the full length, not down to the hilt, but very much most of his generous, thick erection in a single thrust.

That was what she'd asked for, wasn't it? For him to show her how much he needed her. Embraced by her tightness, her need, however, he only found that he wanted her more. It was endless, a steady roar in his ears, arousal that swirled and built and came crashing down on him again and again as long as they were in physical contact with each other, and now that they were fucking, it was all he could hear, consuming him entirely. ]

[ There would be no shame in admitting to the soft keening noise that slipped past his lips as Steve entered him, a noise of carnal approval for the way Steve filled him, stretching just enough to add that transient discomfort until it melted into the pleasure he knew would come. It was all a bit of an awkward position, really, Loki neither sitting nor lying down completely, but crushed between the pillows against the headboard and the Captain, he could not think of a more desirable place to be.

In fact, as the Captain moved against him, he found it exceedingly difficult to think at all. To think, beyond the veil of excuses of fulfilling Steve Rogers' desires and working through the aphrodisiac, how cruel this truly was to him despite parting as enemies. Luck was a double-edged sword. Loki could only aim to land onto the correct edge at the conclusion of this affair.

Between abrupt cries and gasps for air, he soothed the Captain's bruised skin with generous laps of his tongue and kisses. His mouth worked its way up to the corner of Steve's jaw, tongue flicking out against his ear lobe. His grip on Steve's hair had given way to the cupping of the back of his neck, thumb pressed close to his pulse, chains clinking between their chests. ]

[ Steve didn't have a good answer for why Peggy was able to leave bruises on his throat or lips. He wasn't of a mind to question it, even if that was the case, letting her work her kisses away from his mouth and surrendering to the position, the slow demand of need for friction by dipping his forehead down toward her waiting shoulder. Thinking wasn't at the top of his list of priorities right now, not when there was warmth around his cock, tight muscle pressing in against him that he could thrust up into, feeling the slick tug of it pull against him. The perfect fit. She was perfect, and Steve could think of nothing else. How good this was, how long he'd waited, how much he needed her.

Steve's rhythm, when he began, was steady, efficient, just a little bruising. He didn't want to hurt her, he just wanted to draw more of those wonderful noises from her ruby lips, where they were pressed in wet and teasing against his ear. His thrusts were harder, maybe, than he truly thought they were, rattling the headboard of his bed against the wall through her, but his hands were moving up to find purchase, the wet fingers of one finding a grasp around the back of her neck, as much holding on as giving her support to lean into, and the other coming up the front of her blouse, pulling hard enough and savagely enough to snap every button off.

There was a little more regard given to the dressed wound to her chest, the bandages wrapped around her torso, placed so carefully before, while she'd been sleeping. His palm spread gently across the center of the spot where the deep wound lay, as though reverent of it, before he reached up higher to snap the bra she was wearing away just as carelessly, breaking it down the front with a single tug of one finger, and using his wrist to brush away the layers and reveal her bare skin. He wanted to pull her against him, feel her bare breasts against his body as he made love to her, stroke his thumb across her nipple the way he'd always imagined he would, on feverously lonely nights. ]

[ Ah, but he liked that force despite the situation, a brutally honest display of desire he would have approved had the urge not been spurred by exogenous chemicals, Alfheim's natural flora or otherwise. Though the degree of lust was certainly heightened by the Captain's tragic longing for Peggy Carter, Loki couldn't deny that neither of them would ever aim to place themselves in this position knowingly. It made his delight at the tearing of his clothing all the more taboo.

Not that he could spare enough thought to the would-be conflict. Too busy savoring the way Steve filled him, how each thrust to the hilt knocked against his clit, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine, gradually increasing in intensity. His other palm found purchase against Steve's chest, still woefully clothed, and grabbed the fabric into his fist. As he yanked and tore the shirt away from Steve's shoulders, Loki bit down on his earlobe with enough force to leave reddened half-crescent imprints. He kissed and licked the angered skin immediately, soothing just as he'd done with the Captain's neck, though sloppier for how close Steve was pushing Loki towards orgasm. ]

loki | mcu

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It's perfect ^-^

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making things effortlessly Worse is loki's greatest talent ✌

He did such a good job, completely accidentally lmao

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sorry for late reply, work was butts

<3 it's all good! No rush at all.

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