Akraisa; A Loki x Reader story

You can do better than that, dear.

"You're fucking joking me." I mutter, rubbing my hands over my eyes tiredly and taking in a deep breath. "Loki." I say, waving my hands about to get his attention. No response. "Loki. Loki!" I repeat, my tone getting more agitated. "Fuck you." I whisper. "LOKI." I shout this time, hitting my hands on the table like he had done earlier, yet still, not even so much as a blink. "Sir." 

I see a smirk form on his lips, as he pulls his eyes away from his paper to look up at me.

"Yes, dear." He grins, closing the paper dramatically and setting it on the table where my hands still rest. He sits back in his seat, his eyes drinking up my view.

"We have to do these dishes. Together." I say, attempting to sound assertive but I'm sure he can hear the shake in my voice no matter how hard I try to hide it.

"Dishes? You ask me to clean up after these filthy creatures have stuffed their pathetic mouths with this - you call that food?" He stands up, pointing at the left over pancake - so we are now face to face - well face to chest and he towers over me with his significantly taller height. "How many times must I tell you, girl, for it to go into that stupidly idiotic head of yours. I am a God." He pauses, his eyes dropping down and glancing at my body for a split second. "I don't even do my own dishes." He adds as he sits back down on his chair, resuming his paper, and dismissing me with his hand. 

I stand there, my jaw dropped and eyes wide at his actions.

"Well you know what - Loki. You're just - just - full of yourself." I storm as I turn around sharply, folding my arms against my chest.

He chuckles at my pathetic insult.

"You can do better than that, dear."

"Fine. Get off your arse and help me before I-"

"Before you what? Fight me?" He intervenes, smirking

"Yes actually. I'll have you know I train in combat." I say confidently, putting my hands on my hips, looking so slightly over my shoulder at him.

I feel him stand up close behind me, him against my back. 

"Really now?" He says just louder than a whisper. His hands ghost over my shoulders, and I immediately elbow him in the chest, turning around and kicking him in his balls. He seethes in pain, bending over slightly.

"You'll pay for that." He says through his teeth. Pushing his hands down on my shoulders, and kneeing me in the ribs - admittedly harder than I expected. I bite back the pain.

As I take a moment to recover from the pain, he does not take a second to rest. He grabs me by my waist with both of his hands, and pushes me - so my back collides painfully with the table.

I attempt to push away his grip on me, but he seizes my wrists, pinning them above my head to the glass table.

I resist, I begin to kick my legs furiously. He shakes his head, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips, and positions his legs so that mine are in between his, his knees tightly compressing my outer thighs - preventing any movement from my legs.

His eyes follow my struggling body completely pinned down by him.

"You know seeing you like this, all helpless and beneath me - makes you, I dare say, remarkably attractive. " His voice dark.

"Fuck you!" I shout, feeling completely useless without magic. Without sense. And without control.

"Look at you, you really are just a pathetic mortal."

"Let me go!" I shout as I still squirm.

"Not until you acknowledge me as your superior." He speaks in a low and dangerous tone. I stay silent for a moment, but his gaze only scrutinises further, making the nerves flow through me faster than my blood.

Finally, I give in, almost embarrassed at my current position, despite the slight excitement that accompanied it.

"You win." I say quietly. 

He raises an eyebrow, pressing me into the table further as if unhappy with my two word answer. His entire aura dictates the answer he so very desires. 

"You are Loki, a God, and I am nothing but a - pathetic mortal." I say reluctantly, swallowing my pride.

"Good girl." He remarks, letting go of me and taking a step back, surprisingly offering me a hand to help me up. I take it cautiously, but help me up is all he does, his touch lingering against my hand for a second longer than it needed to - and only then did I realise the intimacy of the situation. The closeness and the dynamic, but most significantly, the words. His words.

"Now, go do the dishes." He commands as he sits back down, resuming his newspaper as if nothing had happened. Unsatisfyingly so.

I roll my eyes, and proceed to clear up the table. My lack of magic infuriates me at completing the seemingly simple mundane task that I really had no experience with before.

When I had finally finished, I looked over at Loki, who had put down his paper and instead been watching me wash up for the past 10 minutes. And like most would, when we made eye contact - me now fully aware of his staring - he did not look away, no, instead his gaze remained - even more intense.

Not creepy at all.

No, really. It was oddly not creepy at all. It was - intriguing.