Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Male! Reader
Warnings: smut, knife play, top reader
Fandom: MCU
SUMMARY: reader is training with knives which kind of turns loki on. some knife play ensues (nothing too crazy), which leads to fluffy smut with top reader
Your bicep curled as you drew your arm back to hurl the blade forward.
Loki was leaning back in a chair, watching as he sipped a margarita that he had conjured earlier. The sound of the knife hitting the target made his body jump a little. He took a deep breath and crossed his legs as he suppressed a pleased smile.
"You gonna do any actual work?" you called, grinning at him. Your face was sheened in sweat, so he couldn't imagine why you were so happy.
"No thank you. I don't need to. Great job, though." He shut one eye and gave you a thumbs up. "Throwing things must be so very difficult," he drawled.
"Alright, sassy. Put down your little cocktail–"
"–It's a margarita."
"Whatever." You nodded your head for him to move. "Come'ere."
He sighed and did as you said, otherwise you'd pester him until he complied. He was beside you now, sneering at the sweat that coated you. "How are you sweating like a pig from throwing knives?"
"I was working out earlier, damn. I figured you'd know that since you came down here to ogle me."
"I—" He spluttered, his cheeks heating. He hastily picked up a knife. "You think I can't do this? I'm the connoisseur of daggers."
"You're the connoisseur of having daggers. I'm good at throwing them at little dots on a human shaped paper."
"Ooh. Scary. I'll tell all the human shaped papers of the world to remain wary."
You rolled your eyes. "Give it a go, babe. Impress me."
He tried not to smile at the pet name, because he claimed to find them cheesy, but the sight did not escape you. He aimed his knife, licking his lips in concentration.
"And no magic," you added.
Dammit. "Where's the fun in that?" he muttered. Still, he shot the knife forward with only his natural skills. It was... a mediocre hit, one that had him groaning.
"Alright, alright, not bad," you reasoned. "You're standing wrong, though. And you gotta hold your arm a bit differently. Uh—come'ere, I'll show you."
You picked up another dagger and handed it to him. Stepping right behind him, your chest to his back, you leaned your mouth near his ear.
"Get these feet apart," you murmured, nudging your foot between his. You felt his breathing stagger as you slid one hand onto his waist and the other onto his arm. "Hold your arm a bit straighter—there." You kissed his jaw, and he felt weightless as you pressed further against him. "Let's try that together. Let go sooner than you think you have to."
The knife landed on the bullseye, and Loki had a pleasantly surprised expression.
"Hey!" You kissed his cheek. "There you go. Good job."
He blushed, feeling like jelly at your praise. He turned around, and with a single tilt of his head, your sweat was gone. "That's better." He pecked you on the lips. "That's for... whatever that was." Then he lightly slapped your cheek and held your chin between his fingers. "That's for making me abandon my margarita."
You pretended to be shocked and hurt, but your sly smile couldn't be hidden as it crept up your face. "I think you're forgetting who has the knives here." You put your hand near his neck and tapped his cheek with the side of your blade.
