"What do you speak of?" you inquire with a raised brow as Loki surveys your chosen attire. His gaze scrutinizes your simple ensemble, yet this time, your shirt tastefully reveals a hint more cleavage than your usual style. "Is this truly the garment you've opted to don?" Loki questions, his expression conveying a subtle mix of surprise and disapproval.
Undeterred, you confidently point to your shirt, seeking validation. Loki responds with a subtle nod, his head slightly tilted, prompting you to scoff and pivot away. Engaged in the task of folding clothes retrieved from your closet, you find yourself at odds with Loki's unsolicited fashion advice. "Kindly refrain from adorning yourself in such attire," he suggests, his tone carrying an air of aristocratic authority.
Unyielding, you dismiss his counsel, retorting, "I'll wear what I please; it's not as egregious as you make it out to be." Loki, visibly irked, circumnavigates the room, a silent manifestation of his displeasure.
Puzzled by his reaction, you rationalize that you're merely preparing for a casual outing to the shops. The necessity of replenishing household essentials for two necessitates more frequent shopping excursions, including mundane items like soap and toothpaste.
After meticulously arranging your wardrobe, you descend the stairs to quench your thirst. Loki, now in the kitchen, remains indifferent to your presence. Retrieving a drink from the refrigerator, you begin to sip, only to have your hand unexpectedly pushed by Loki, resulting in the spillage of your drink onto your shirt. "Are you serious right now?" you exclaim, incredulous at the unexpected outburst.
"I explicitly cautioned against donning that particular ensemble, did I not?" Loki retorts, unapologetic. Undeterred, you argue, "That doesn't justify spilling my drink." Loki, unfazed, utilizes his magical prowess to deftly remove your stained shirt, offering a sly grin. "I dare say, your appearance gains a certain allure in my company, sans that accoutrement," he remarks.
In response to his jest, you challenge Loki to suggest an alternative outfit. Employing his magic once more, Loki replaces your previous shirt with a loose-fitting turtleneck, devoid of any contour to highlight your figure. Its color and design raise an eyebrow, prompting Loki to commend it as an improvement. Unconvinced, you protest, "Are you kidding? What's the fuss about a slight display of cleavage? It's not like I was wearing just a bra, and it wasn't that noticeable anyway."
Frustrated, you retreat upstairs to change into an outfit more to your liking, leaving Loki with his magical interventions and a bemused expression.
Returning downstairs in your preferred attire, you shoot Loki a smug glance. "Better?" you ask, the sarcasm dripping from your words. Loki, maintaining an air of nonchalance, simply shrugs. "I suppose it's a marginal improvement, though still lacking refinement," he remarks, feigning indifference.
Rolling your eyes, you proceed to gather your belongings, prepared to embark on your mundane shopping expedition. Loki, seemingly amused, decides to join, transforming his appearance into a guise more fitting for Midgard. "Shall we proceed, mortal?" he quips, emphasizing the word 'mortal' with a theatrical flourish.
As you step out, Loki's attempts at blending in with the crowd prove both comical and slightly disconcerting. "Do try not to attract unnecessary attention," you advise, unable to contain your amusement. Loki, adopting an exaggerated expression of innocence, replies, "Why, my dear, I am but a humble mortal like yourself, navigating the trivialities of shopping."
Throughout the excursion, Loki's snarky comments about Midgardian customs and the mundane nature of your errands persist. "Such fascinating endeavors you engage in," he observes, a smirk playing on his lips as you scrutinize laundry detergent options.
YOU ARE READING
Loki x Reader
Fanfiction[Smut] It's winter season. Most of New York is covered in snow. You thought spending some time alone, but that was not what Loki intended to do with your time.
