#loki x you
𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬
This is the first soulmate au I've ever written and I just love this trope so much. I hope you enjoy it! - Love, Kiki 🖤
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Loki x female reader (the reader is Asgardian as well)
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 | by @ravennevermorewitch , here ♡
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | “Never leave the convent’s sacred ground - for there is a monster hunting for you.” This warning is the one thing your mother left you, written in a letter left with you on the steps of the convent’s chapel when you were an infant. The sacred grounds are all you’ve known, the rules of the church that throttle you like a corset laced too tight. And the strange dreams gracing your sleep ever since you entered adulthood - of a stranger with sapphire eyes and raven hair. Nothing but dreams filling you with a longing you cannot put into words - until one night during midnight mass, you encounter the new priest, a beautiful stranger with sapphire eyes and raven hair. And he seems to recognize you as well.
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | a soulmate au with fairy tale vibes, Loki disguising himself as a priest, lots of smut and romance
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10 k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU’RE 18+ YEARS OLD!), unprotected sex (please be safe in real life and wear a condom!), masturbation, slight voyeurism, reader calling Loki Father once because she thinks he’s a priest, sex in a church. It’s getting blasphemous, lovelies, so buckle up and have your holy water at the ready.
If Hell exists, this fic is my ticket down there, and I'll be getting a crown and champagne as they welcome me in 😂
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡
𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝🖤
𝐀/𝐍: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐨𝐮" 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩.𝐨.𝐯.
Branches whip her cheeks as she stumbles through the woods, the path ahead winding like a snake through the thicket, barely lit by the patches of moonlight which filter through the canopy of leaves forming the roof of the forest. Thorns tear at her cloak, and the fabric is ripped apart as she stumbles, her grip around the infant in her arms tightening – yet still, she doesn’t slow down. She can’t slow down. Not when she’s so close.
Safety. She needs to get her to safety.
The new-born in her arms is still, as if she can sense the danger creeping through the tranquil night, the monstrous creature which will start hunting for her soon enough, with black magic curling through every crevice of the Nine Realms in search for what belongs to him, belongs with him, his mind as twisted and sharp like the tree branches jutting into the path to slash the fabric of her cloak and tear cuts into the skin of her cheeks.
Through the web of branches, she can see the lights in the distance, like benevolent faerie guiding her through the darkness of the forest as her tired legs carry her further and further through the thicket. A noise rips from the back of her throat, an outcry of relief mingling with a sob.
The forest gives way to a graveyard, the jagged wooden crosses and tombstones like silent onlookers as she stumbles along the gravelly path that leads up to the church which looms ahead like a silent guardian. The building is old. Ivy climbs up the northern wall like snakes, hacking roots into the cracks between the withered stones as if the forest were slowly reclaiming what has been stolen from it centuries ago.
Frost laces the air with every ragged breath she takes, and the tears which run down her face freeze in the cold air of the winter night.
And still, these tears keep running.
With a weep that rips through her chest, as if her heart is tearing apart, she places the infant on the front step of the church, the tiny creature wrapped in blankets to keep her warm until she’ll be found in the morning.
It tears her apart, and yet…she needs to protect her new-born daughter. She can’t let him get to her. She can’t let him have her.
For now, the skin at the new-born girl’s left wrist is unmarred. But the words of the priestess she consulted as to her daughter’s fate with such high hopes were unequivocal, a warning shattering her heart. When she enters adulthood, there will be a mark etching itself into the skin of her wrist, the essence of her soul, a name binding her to that monster locked beneath the golden walls of the palace.
Usually, such a mark is reason for happiness, a blessing. The name to appear on her daughter’s wrist one day, though…it’ll be a curse. She must save her as long as she still can.
“I’m sorry, my sweet,” she whispers into the night, letting her fingers trace the baby’s soft cheek for one last time. “There is no other way.”
The little one stares up at her mother, the stars reflecting in her eyes, as if she understands.
“They’ll keep you safe. He won’t get to you here. He’ll never lay a hand on you.”
She clambers back to her feet on trembling legs to vanish back into the night and the thicket of the woods, her last goodbye hanging in the air like the whisper of the icy wind.
She can only hope that these words were the truth.
That he never finds the poor girl damned to be his mate.
It’s always the same dream.
Every night. Ever since you turned eighteen.
A dream of eyes as vibrant and blue as the sapphires adorning the golden goblet which is brought out for mass at Christmas and Easter.
Of hair as dark as the feathers of the crows which sit on the wooden crosses and withered tombstones in the graveyard outside, their caws filling the air like a requiem for the dead.
Of fingertips wandering over your skin, the sweetest caresses trailing over every inch of your body like shivers, the touches like a fever dream.
Of a voice, silken as the night, whispering to you. I’ll find you. There’s no crevice in the Nine Realms where I won’t find you, norðurstjarna. The words are always the same. A promise – or a threat.
As always when you’re torn from the tangles of this dream, you wake up drenched in sweat, the bedsheet tangled around your legs, the sound of your ragged breaths filling the silence of your bedchamber as you wait for your fluttering heartbeat to calm like the sea after a storm, your mind a ship thrown by the merciless waves that keep crashing down on you, trying to drown you and fill your lungs with their icy water as they pull you deeper and deeper. To depths where your mind is not allowed to wander.
Ever since these dreams started, there’s a sense of sadness curling around your heart upon waking, like mist in a field come dusk. It’s the lingering sense that something is amiss, accompanied by a longing so overwhelming that you can feel it tugging at your chest like a string pulled taut – and an echo of this longing settling at the apex of your legs when you think about the beautiful stranger’s caresses.
The other nuns would shrink back in horror if you told them about these recurring dreams, the sinful things the man with the sapphire eyes and the raven hair is doing with you. Some of them would probably even think there’s a demon possessing your soul, the devil himself come to corrupt you.
You a neither believe in God nor the Devil, for that matter. Though monsters, you know…they’re very real.
That’s why you’re here, after all, and have been for the past century. Hidden away from the world, eyed with wariness and suspicion.
You’re a curiosity to ogle, a gossip to whisper behind raised hands. The girl who doesn’t age ever since she came of age. Half of them believe it’s a curse, the outcome of a deal with the Devil himself. The other half calls it a miracle, a girl touched by the blessing of God.
The warning to never leave the convent’s sacred grounds is the only thing left of your mother despite a tiny blanket, the fabric paled and scratchy with time. A parting letter to the nuns and her daughter containing a warning never to leave the sacred ground of the convent, never to venture out into the world, because there is a monster lurking outside, only waiting for you to leave the protection of the convent to suck the marrow from your bones and the life from your soul.
Your mother never gave an explanation as to why there is a monster hunting for you, and even as a child your imagination has always run wild to come up with stories to mend the holes in the story’s fabric. This monster is a fae, and your mother made a deal – a wish of hers coming true in exchange for her firstborn. Or it’s a demon, intent on whisking you away to take you as his bride.
There are more stories you conjured up over the turn of time, though all of them end with the handsome stranger from your dreams turning out as said monster, come to whisk you away.
But they’re stories, daydreams, and nothing more.
And thus, you stay in this life you despise despite never having known anything else; a life which consists of the restraints of your tiny bedchamber and the church at the end of the graveyard. Your world is like one of the snow globes some of the nuns like to collect. Safe and impossibly lonely.
If your soul is a garden, you can feel how each year spent in the shackles of this life is like a blanket of clouds covering the sky to steal the sunlight, the once vibrant colour of the petals fading away, the blossoms slowly wilting with each passing decade.
You’re scared that one day, the garden will be dead for good, nothing but patches of dried grass and withered leaves, like the graveyard in front of the church.
Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if these walls are truly protecting you, if this way of fading away slowly and silently is a better alternative to what the monster lurking beyond the convent’s gates would do you. Though as of yet…you’re not desperate enough to find out.
Your fingertips brush over the mark adorning your wrist – a scar, probably, or a strange birthmark with its sharp lines crisscrossing like the paths at a crossroads. When your heartbeat has calmed and your breath steadied, your eyes find the display of the clock on your nightstand, and a sigh spills from your lips.
Time to get dressed for midnight mass.
When you step out of the dormitory building and onto the gravel path cutting through the graveyard which stretches between the main building and the chapel like the scaled body of a snake, the cold autumn air makes you shiver beneath the black fabric of your dress which is too thin to offer any real protection against the gust of wind which sweeps over the dried grass, making dead leaves dance with a rustle as it carries them across the path ahead. Somewhere in the forest surrounding the grounds, an owl hoots, its call echoing though the night like the lament of a widow.
Your steps quicken to escape the cold, and when you slip through the heavy wooden portal of the church, mass has already started. The old priest, a white-haired man with a cassock that’s too wide for his fragile body, has already started his sermon, and some of the nuns throw scolding glances at you over their shoulders as your footsteps echo from the naked stone walls of the chapel when you tiptoe to an empty pew at the back of the nave.
Despite it being nearly as cold inside the old murals as it’s outside and the tiredness which seeps through your bones, midnight mass has always been your favourite.
There’s a beauty in the way the pale moonlight filters through the stained-glass windows to paint faint patterns of red and blue light to the worn stone tiles of the chapel’s floor, a warmness in the dim glow of the candles which flicker around the altar, dripping white wax onto the stone floor like flakes of freshly fallen snow.
The organ starts to play, its notes booming through the chapel’s interior as the others start to sing, and it rips you from your thoughts which have been wandering to the memory of your dream again. Your lips move, your voice forming the words of the song as it mingles with the choir of the others, and your breath forms little clouds of white lace in the chill air.
It’s an automatism – stand, sit, kneel, your tongue forming the words of the songs and prayers while you fall into your daydreams of gathering your courage and leaving this life of loneliness and constricting rules behind. Of being whisked away by a stranger with sapphire eyes and raven hair, like the fae prince out of your fairy tales. You’d gladly let him steal you away, you think with a smirk, quickly bowing your head as if in rapt devotion to hide the smile, not sure if the shadows at the back of the church are enough to hide your expression.
Just then, a movement at the edge of your vision catches your attention, drawing your focus to the slim iron fence barring the chapel’s nave from the steps which lead down to the crypt.
At first, you only see the slight movement in the shadows, a dark silhouette prowling between the stone pillars that reach up to the high ceiling like the trunks of trees in a forest. Then, the figure steps into a beam of moonlight which spills through one of the stained-glass windows – and your heart seems to cease its beating.
Glittering sapphire eyes lock on yours, the blue light of the window paints a pale halo across hair as dark as the wings of a graveyard crow. A smile as devious as the ones of the demons painted to the pages of your Bible curves his lips as he holds your gaze and time seems to freeze, the world blurring.
It’s him. The stranger from your dreams – the stranger whose caresses you crave like sunlight on your skin, whose touches in your dreams conjure a want in your core that lasts until long after dusk, a want you don’t know how to quench.
It once more rouses the longing festering in the crevices of your soul, like a voice whispering for you to run, to search for this beautiful stranger outside of your dreams, beyond the stone walls of your little prison.
Well, you found him. Or rather, he found you.
There’s no crevice in the Nine Realms where I won’t find you, norðurstjarna.
The moment is fleeting, and when you blink…he’s gone again.
A chill races down your spine, talons of fear raking over your heart.
Your eyes scan the crowd of nuns in front of you, their heads bowed deeply in reverence while the priest drones on and on with his sermon, his voice weak and frail with age, thinned like ink in water as it floats through the chapel’s nave and barely reaches your ears. It’s strange, to have witnessed him age over all these decades, him and the nuns, while you stayed the same, your body frozen in time ever since you entered adulthood.
But the stranger is gone. If he even was there, if he was real, none of the others have seen him.
Your mind is going a mile a minute, scouring the myriad of possible explanations for the most reasonable one; but they all lead to conclusions one more frightening than the next.
That you’ve gone mad, your imagination spinning illusions, making you see things which aren’t there.
These walls might be able to protect you from the things which lurk outside…but there’s nothing to protect you from the things which lurk in your own mind, the devil which resides within, the demons he unleashes on your sanity.
Or…he was real. Which makes you wonder about his connection to your mother’s warning that set the path of your life.
The nuns rise to their feet and you’re quick to mirror the movement, torn from your panic-hazed thoughts just in time to register what the old priest has just announced.
“Please welcome our new priest, Father Laufeyson. May the Lord have blessed the path that led him to our little congregation, and may his service to the church be filled by light and blessings.”
The old priest waves an arm – and your mouth falls open in shock when the raven-haired stranger steps out of the shadows beside the altar, his pale complexion illuminated by the light of the dancing candleflames and the silver glow of moonlight spilling down on him through the stained-glass window behind the wooden altar; its colourful shards depicting the battle between Lucifer’s demons, leathery wings stretched and fangs bared, and the angels with their pearly white wings, their radiant halos and flaming swords, the scene forming a mural around the new priest when he comes to stand at the dais, letting his twinkling gaze roam over the congregation of nuns.
From your place at the back of the church, it’s too dark for you to see the colour of his eyes – though you don’t need to see them to know they’re as blue as sapphires.
When his eyes lock on yours once more, time seems to freeze for another heartbeat.
In your dreams, it’s always been like gazing at the reflection in the shards of a broken mirror. You’ve never really seen him – only bits and pieces of images and sensations. Ink-black hair tickling the skin on your collarbone, long, dark lashes fluttering against your cheek as he keeps whispering to you.
Though despite this, there’s not the shadow of a doubt. It’s him. He’s real, not a fantasy sprung from a lonely mind on its descent into madness, but a real man of flesh and blood.
Of course, you’ve heard stories of people able to see the future in their dreams, the prophets of the Old Testament as well as those who claim to have visions sent by the dead, the angels, the devil himself…though you highly doubt those dreams could ever compare to yours.
Because yours is always the same dream, and the things you’re doing with this beautiful stranger in the tangles of your sleep-hazed imagination…they’re most certainly not holy. And if he’s real…did he have the same dreams of you?
When you take him in, unable to tear your eyes away, you realize that reality is even more enrapturing than what your dreams have shown you.
His body, clad in the black priest’s suit, with only the stark white of his collar for contrast, looks firm and lean beneath the dark fabric, letting your imagination roam free as you wonder if his muscles are as defined as the snippets of your dreams have shown you. His hair, so solid black, brushes against his shoulders in luscious waves, streaks of blue and red colour painted into the dark strands in a crown of pale moonlight which spills through the stained-glass window behind the altar.
When he stretches his arms in a gesture of confident greeting, his demeanour is that of a king greeting his peasants rather than that of a humble priest welcoming the sheep of his parish to mass.
A subtle smirk plays on the corner of his lips – lips which, in your dreams, have traced the lines of your body countless times with searing kisses that made you squirm with pleasure, a trace of mischief hidden in the serenity of this smile.
You’ve seen beauty before – sunlight falling on freshly fallen snow, petals vibrant in the dusk as if they were aglow from within, shooting stars streaking across the night sky.
This stranger’s beauty, though, is a different one – a dark, haunting otherworldliness that steals your breath away makes the string around your heart tug with the longing to touch him, to feel the strands of his black hair as your fingers glide through them, trace the sharp lines of his cheekbones with your lips and feel the heat of his skin pressed against yours.
There’s no spark of recognition in his eyes as he holds your gaze as captive as your thoughts, his features an unreadable mask before he tears away and lets his eyes travel over the small congregation while he begins to speak the first words of his sermon.
When his voice fills the cold, incense-infused air, reverberating from the ancient stone walls and gothic pillars as it floats through the chapel’s nave, the tug on your heart intensifies, and recognition surges through you for a second time.
It’s his voice, the voice from your dreams. Smooth and dark like ribbons of the finest silk, wrapping around you, tighter and tighter as they hold you in place, like a dark caress on your bare skin, drawing you in with every word that leaves his soft lips.
You’re so focused on the sound of his voice that you realize, as his brief sermon ends, that you didn’t listen to a single one of the words he’s spoken.
When the notes of the organ fill the air once more to signal the end of midnight mass, and the other nuns rise from their pews with rustling skirts to venture out into the night and back to the warmth of their beds, you keep your head bowed as if deeply caught up in prayer, hands folded on the wood of the pew in front of you, eyes closed as your mind is racing like a horse in a frenzy.
You stay like this until the organ’s melody has died away and the heavy wooden door of the chapel’s entrance falls shut with groaning hinges, sealing you in the silence and solitude of the ancient chapel like the saints in the crypt beneath your feet.
The new priest is gone as well. You’re not sure if the tug at your heart you feel upon the realization is one of disappointment or relief.
I’ll find you. There’s no crevice in the Nine Realms where I won’t find you, norðurstjarna.
His voice, so gentle and dark, is laced with the warning words in your mother‘s letter.
There‘s evil in the world, hunting for you. Stay hidden. Never leave the sacred ground. It‘s the only place where you‘ll be safe. Stay away from strangers.
Could he be the evil you‘ve been warned about your whole life? You‘ve always assumed whatever threat she was referring to in her letter was connected to your magic, the way your body is frozen in time and shielded from age.
But what if you‘ve been wrong, if there‘s more to it than the strange miracle of your apparent immortality?
Nausea grips you as your head is spinning, the floor tilting precariously with your sudden vertigo, and you press your forehead against the hard, cold wood of the pew in front of you to anchor yourself. You’ve never felt such raw, unadulterated fear in your life. All your existence spent in hiding, only to realize that even here, cornered and shielded by the crumbling walls and sacred borders of the convent, you’re not safe anymore, and probably never were.
All for nothing. Every time you could feel another tiny part of you wilt away under the suffocating weight of all these rules.
Don’t sing a song but those in the hymn book. It’s sin.
Don’t dance. It’s sin.
Don’t let the dreams tempt you to follow the unproper thoughts they instil in you, neither in mind nor touch. It’s sin.
Each and every rule, you followed, because there never was a choice. Obey, or be sent away, outside where the monster lurks.
You inhale, the sharp tang of incense stinging in your throat, then rise to your feet, darting between the rows of pews with your every step echoing through the nave as your feet carry you to the confessional tucked into the small space between two of the pillars at the far wall, hidden in the shadow of the alcove.
It’s beautiful, with its walls of polished dark wood and the intricate carvings of miniature-pillars flanking the two doors, adorned with carved poison ivy. It’s the one truly beautiful thing in the worn-down, lacklustre scenery of the convent.
As soon as you’re inside the small space, you sit down on the wooden bench, resting your head against the wall and closing your eyes to wait until the panic subsides and your raging heartbeat calms down enough to have a clear thought.
With a hiss, you rip the white nun’s coif away from your head to free your hair. You hate that thing. You hate the scratchy black fabric of the formless dress, the way the collar always feels like throttling you.
The confessional has always been your favourite hiding place – always empty, for the next village is miles and miles away beyond the forest, with its own church and priest, and the nuns here don’t often have anything to confess.
Until tonight, you’ve always been certain that you don’t have anything to confess, either – no sins to atone for. Not even a little white lie to make amends for, because it’s difficult to tell a lie if people barely ever talk to you – one half because they think you’re touched by the devil, the other because they believe you’ve been blessed and too holy to be in their presence. And until tonight, despite always abiding the rules, you didn’t even believe in such things as sins.
Now, you’re not so sure anymore how much of the talk about damned souls and the pain of purgatory is the truth, because if strangers leave dreams to walk into reality, the line between truth and fiction is blurring precariously.
The sigh which leaves your lips fills the confessional’s half-dark, cutting through the silence like the whisper of the wind outside. The wind, though, is free.
“Is there something weighing on your heart, little lamb?”, a smooth, low voice purrs from the darkness of the opposite bench, making you start.
Has he been inside this confessional booth all this time – or did he never leave the chapel, watching you from the shadows before deciding to follow you? How did you not realize his presence, when it radiates a darkness so much more persistent than the night outside?
“No,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper, a susurration of dead leaves rustling in the autumn wind that dances over the graveyard.
If you’re the lamb – is this stranger who claims to be a priest the shepherd’s dog protecting the herd of his parish… or the wolf come to steal you away with teeth and claws?
“There is nothing weighing on my heart, Father.”
A low, dark chuckle rumbles through the air, and you squint into the half-light beyond the delicate latticework inlaid in the wooden panel which parts the priest’s side of the confessional from yours, trying and failing to get a glean at him before he drawls, “Are you aware that lying is a sin?”
Something in the way his voice lilts, the amusement it carries in its timbre, emboldens you enough to retort, “I don’t think a little white lie will bring me down to Hell.”
“Ah, but there is something that weighs down on your heart,” he concludes.
The tease in his tone is imminent, the quiet humour nothing like the usual patronising tone the other priests use to talk to everyone else.
“People don’t usually lounge in confessionals if they don’t have anything to confess,” he adds with a low purr, “So what is the sin you don’t dare voice, little lamb?”
“I don’t have anything to confess,” you repeat curtly, and your hand already settles on the handle to push open the confessional’s wooden door when his voice cuts through the darkness once more.
“No thoughts straying to forbidden territory? No improper…dreams?”
His voice has darkened a few shades, and there’s something else woven into the taunting of his tone, something predatory.
Heat creeps into your cheeks as the images from these dreams flit through your mind on black wings like the swarm of bats which live in the chapel’s belltower. Of his elegant hands pinning your waist to the mattress, your body, bare before him skin glistening with sweat as his voice, so smooth and dark, carries the most sinful promises. Fingertips raking through your hair. Hands caressing your most intimate parts with playful slowness. Kisses burning on your lips, every touch as consuming as the fires of purgatory.
And the need you feel each time upon waking from these dreams, the burning hunger in your core which perseveres long after the whisps of sleep have left your senses, the urge to let your hands stray to the apex of your thighs where you’ve felt his touch, wondering if the caress of your own fingertips could instil the same blissful sensations in your core.
You freeze midmovement, and your hand on the handle curls into a fist.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Father,” you whisper, and the tremor has crept back into your voice; fear rattling your bones as all the warnings come rushing back into your mind.
“Yet another lie,” he drawls, “And how easy they’re leaving your lips, little lamb. Quite impressive for such a god-fearing creature. Or…you’re not the good little Catholic you claim to be.”
His tone makes a shiver crawl through you like the frost lacing itself over the naked trees outside.
“I never claimed anything,” you shoot back, once again shocked by whatever misplaced sense of pride and courage are guiding you right now.
“Such blasphemy uttered in a confessional,” he mocks.
He might be the monster you’ve been running from your whole life, and yet, fear doesn’t drive you to flight. Instead, you’re drawn to him, the ribbons of his dark voice tightening their hold on your mind, his presence like a dark gravity that pulls you towards him, that draws you under his spell like a moth to the light of a candle in the dark of night.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
“I will go back to bed,” you say, jumping up and reaching for the wooden handle with trembling fingers.
A part of you anticipates the priest to hold you back with his soothing voice – wishes for him to do so, even – but he doesn’t. Through the wooden lattice you feel his gaze resting on you as you stumble out of the confessional, steps reverberating through the still air of the chapel as you dart away from this beautiful stranger, your mind racing as fast as your heartbeat.
You dream of him that night. As you always do.
Though this time when you wake at the first weak light of dawn…you feel his presence like a dark aura which seeps through every crack and crevice in the ancient walls of the convent’s dormitory like tendrils of dark mist, beckoning you towards him like the gravity of a star. And with this presence, there it is again. The feeling of missing something you never had in the first place you’ve grown so used to.
It’s that morning that you realize what it is, this feeling haunting your heart ever since you can remember: homesickness. Not for a place, but someone.
When the sun rises and paints light over the frost-shrouded grass of the graveyard to make it glitter in the morning light like freshly fallen snow, the silhouettes of nearby trees stretching their naked branches towards the skies like parishioners lost in prayer, your panic has suffused to make room for curiosity.
It’s time to find out who the beautiful stranger is – and what he wants.
It doesn’t even matter if his intentions are good or evil. He’s here, either way. He found you, at last. And you refuse to hide away any longer.
The new priest is neither present at morning mass nor evening mass, and over the course of the day, your nerves start fluttering again, questioning whether the events of last night have been nothing but another dream. But you still feel him near, as if your instincts were reaching out with an aura of your own.
When supper has come and gone and everybody makes their way to their bedchambers, you can only hope to meet him again at mass tonight.
You don’t even try to fall asleep, pacing your room like a caged beast until the chapel’s bell chimes to announce midnight has arrived, beckoning the convent to mass.
When you enter the church, your gaze immediately sweeps over the rows of pews and to the altar, and your heart to clenches in your chest when you find him standing there, on the dais, clad in his black priest’s suit.
As his eyes lock on yours with an unreadable expression on his serene features, you feel it again – this tug at the very core of your soul, as if there was an invisible thread bound to your heart, connecting you with him in a way you cannot fathom yet.
And this time, you can feel his gaze gravitating towards you, resting on you during the whole of midnight mass, though his expression stays blank but for the glimmer in his eyes, twinkling like distant stars from the opposite end of the chapel while the old priest drones on with his sermon.
When mass finally ends and the others rise to walk back to their beds, you stay seated in your pew at the back, watching them step out into the darkness of the graveyard one by one before you slowly rise to your feet, gaze travelling to the altar, to the raven-haired priest still standing on the dais, his cerulean eyes resting on you with rapt attention.
Never breaking eye contact, you take a step backwards, into the shadows between the pillars at the edges of the nave, slowly parting ways with the other nuns as you make your way to the confessional.
Come talk to me, your own gaze is beckoning, and even in the shadows dancing on his features, you can see the whisper of a devious smirk that plays on his lips when he follows you.
“Have you been thinking about me, little lamb?”, the taunting voice curls around you as soon as the door to his side of the confessional has clicked shut. This time, though, you are prepared for the sensations the sound sparks in you.
“I’m no lamb,” you speak calmly, “And you’re not a priest.”
A low, dark chuckle rumbles through the air, and you squint into the half-light beyond the delicate wooden lattice which parts the false priest’s side of the confessional from yours.
The glow of the candles and the pale shine of the moon which weeps through the colourful windows barely reach the confines of this small wooden booth, though there are weak streaks of light filtering down from the openings in the ceiling, tiny particles of dust dancing in their dim glow as your eyes lock on the shadow opposite of you, the flashes of of glossy black hair you’re able to glean.
“No, I’m not a priest,” he confirms with this enchanting voice, the familiar ribbons of black silk wrapping around your mind to pull you under his spell once more.
“Then what are you?”, you demand.
“I’m a god. And so are you.”
A beat of silence, your eyes widening when you mutter, “You’re a madman.”
The quiet snicker which fills the half-dark seems confirmation enough that you should put as much distance between you and this beautiful stranger as possible – but you don’t. You stay rooted to the hard wooden seat, pinned in place by his luring voice, the spell of his presence, the curiosity and fascination he rouses in you.
“I am Loki of Asgard,” he says.
Not a fae king, then; not a demon, but something far more deadly.
You’ve heard of the old Norse Gods, of course, read about them in the mythology books you found in a corner of the small library of the convent.
“You didn’t cry out and accuse me of blasphemy,” he deadpans when silence settles over you as you decide whether he’s telling the truth or if you’ve probably gone as mad as he seems to be.
“Because I don’t believe in gods. In any god.”
And yet, you sense it deep in your soul that this stranger is telling the truth. Your apparent immortality, the dreams…you’ve always known that some kind of magic must exist in the world, that there are monsters – so why not deities as well?
He chuckles, clearly bemused by your words, before he quips, “You’ve chosen an interesting path of life, then. Or –“ his voice lowers, the tease dissipating like dew in the midday sun as he adds, “Was it a choice not made by you, but for you?”
“Why would you care?” Your own impatience surprises you, though instead of the snicker you’d anticipated from him, there is a beat of silence. Then, “Are you happy in this life?”
His question, the sudden seriousness of his tone, the traces of softness woven into it, catch you off guard.
“No,” you reply calmly. “I’ve never been.” But I didn’t have a choice, either. And the reason might be you. You say none of these things. Instead, you ask, “If you’re telling the truth…What would an ancient God want in a Catholic convent in the middle of the woods?”
“I think you know that already.”
The tease in his dark tone feels like talons tenderly stroking your spine, making you shudder.
When you don’t answer, the priest – the man claiming to be an ancient God – says quietly, “You know me. You’ve seen me in your dreams.”
You wait for your heart to stop dead with shock, for vertigo to make your head spin once more at his words – but you don’t feel any fear. Only curiosity, this longing for his silken voice to caress your senses once again.
“I know that you saw me in your dreams”, he rasps, and the timbre of his voice, like molten darkness drowning your mind, sends another shiver skittering along your spine – not of fear, but something else you can’t quite pinpoint yet. With a calm in his voice opposing the tune of your heart hammering against your ribs, Loki adds on a whisper, “Do you want to know how I know? Because I’ve seen you in my dreams, too.”
The silence which settles over the two of you as you let his words sink is so omnipotent that you’re sure he can hear the rush of your blood as loud as you hear it.
When you don’t utter a word of reply, he asks quietly, “Are you scared of me?”
You should be, you know that. And yet…
“Do I have a reason to be?”, you breathe, and it makes his dark chuckle rumble through the shadows of the confessional.
You hear him shift, and finally, his eyes lock on yours through the gaps in the lattice casting their pattern over his pale features. Eyes as blue as sapphires, framed by long, dark lashes, a flash of his white priest’s collar.
“That depends entirely on whether you believe in Hell,” he croons, his teeth flashing white in a devious smile that sends a tingle through your body, a rush of adrenaline-induced excitement.
“Tell me about your dreams,” you challenge, growing bolder with every passing second, but his eyes fill with a twinkle of mischief.
“Tell me about yours first, little lamb. Let’s see if there is a confession to make, after all.” The sultry drawl of his voice wraps around your senses, makes your pulse spike with the thrill of his proximity, the dark longing which blooms in your heart like black roses.
There is a choir of alarm bells ringing in your mind, screaming at you to run. But this longing pins you to the wooden seat of the confessional, a spell you cannot break. There is no fear in your heart anymore. Only this strange ache to be close to him, closer even than you already are. To feel him beneath your fingertips, to hear him whisper to you like he has in your dreams.
You might have grown up secluded, far away from real life and its temptations, but you’re not naïve.
“I told you I’m no lamb.”
He snickers. “I can see that, darling.”
Darling. Your blood thrums in your veins at the term of endearment, the sultriness in his voice as he weaves the words, lets them drag over your senses like talons over skin.
“I dreamed of you,” you whisper into the darkness, and heat burns on your cheeks as a string of inappropriate images fills your mind’s eye. You’re grateful for the privacy of the confessional, the delicate wooden lattice parting you from this stranger who seems to know you better than anyone ever has.
“What do I do, in these dreams?”, Loki coaxes, a croon as dark as the night outside, his voice a soothing caress against your soul as he is daring you to go on.
“You kiss me,” you breathe.
His voice is a rasp when he asks, “Where do I kiss you?”
You feel it, this craving so all-consuming, devouring every rational thought and sense of survival.
You don’t even know if he can still hear you, your words barely even a whisper as they float through the air.
“And do you enjoy these kisses, darling?”
The pet name’s intimacy, the way his glittering eyes harbour such strange intensity when they hold your own gaze through the latticework tear your walls down one by one, make them crumble like the murals of this ancient chapel beneath the force of the poison ivy.
The truth slips from your tongue with as much ease as a snake gliding through water.
“Yes.” Your voice has darkened, too, you realize, sounding strange to your own ears.
“And how do you feel upon waking from these dreams?”
“I feel like something is missing,” you whisper. “And I feel…need.”
“And have you ever tried to satiate that need, darling?”, Loki croons, drawing out his words, letting the sultriness of his tone seep into the shadows to fill the confessional’s confines and accelerate your pulse.
Even in the half-light of the booth, the pattern of shadows the wooden latticework paints on his pale features with dim brushstrokes, you can see how his eyes have darkened, the blue of his irises eclipsed by the fathomless abysses of his dilated pupils as he watches you keenly, holds your wide-eyed gaze with his calm one; a hunger raging in these depths that makes your breath catch in your throat.
It’s not that you never wanted to. So often, you’ve let your hands stray beneath the hem of your nightgown, thinking about how it would feel with him – but you’ve never ventured further, too scared to be caught in a dormitory where there are no locks on the doors, scared by rules telling you that it’s a sin worthy to lock you in the deepest pit of Hell.
“Do you want to?” The question is spoken gently despite the hunger woven in his tone. It’s the tale as old as time – the snake tempting the innocent to take a bite of the forbidden fruit, to relish the sweetness of it, never getting enough once they’ve tasted it on their tongue.
You’ve been sick of these rules shackling you all your life for so long now.
“Yes,” you breathe without hesitation.
Upon your words, something shifts in the air between the two of you, like a door swinging shut – or being blown wide open.
“Then by all means, darling…go ahead,” Loki invites with a dark croon, his voice the epitome of seduction as you feel his gaze burning on your skin. “Let me hear all these lovely sounds you’ve been gracing me with in my dreams.”
A quivering exhale leaves your chest as you reach up with trembling hands, starting to unbutton the formless black nun’s dress wrapped around your body. The movement of your hands is deliberate and slow as you hold his cerulean gaze, emboldened to toy with him, to relish how his gaze is darkening with every tiny black button that comes undone beneath your fingertips.
You should be scared, frightened by the act of blatant blasphemy you’re in the process of committing, but this rule break…never has anything in your life felt so right. For the first time, you’re doing what you want to do instead of what’s expected of you.
This man could be the devil in disguise come to claim your body, steal your soul and corrupt your mind – and yet, you’ve never felt so free, so in charge of your own deeds and thoughts as you do as you continue to undress beneath his searing gaze that mirrors the hunger in your own soul, the ache that’s throbbing between your legs.
Biting your lip, the last of the buttons opens, and you let the garment fall to the confessional’s wooden floor where it pools around your ankles, shedding the fabric alongside everything you’ve been told, every warning word and throttling rule to leave you in the thin nightgown you’ve been wearing underneath; a whisp of thin white silk that hugs your body tightly before falling loosely to your knees. The nun’s headdress follows suit, discarded on the floor while your hair spills free.
There is barely anything left to the imagination beneath the slender fabric.
The cold air of the chapel brushes against your heated skin, but you’re too elated to feel the cold.
A whisp of insecurity creeps back into your heart as you glance up to meet Loki’s gaze through the wooden panel, shivering beneath the searing intensity in his gaze as he takes a moment to let his eyes roam over your form, the patches where the flickering glow of the candles seeps through the confessional’s ceiling to cast dancing light over your form and his beautiful features.
“What…what do I do now?”, you breathe, anticipation thrumming through your veins.
“Show me where you want me to touch you, darling. Let your hands roam wherever you want them to go but never dared to venture,” Loki murmurs with a smirk that’s gentle and devious at the same time, a smirk that turns your legs weak and makes this familiar heat pool between your legs.
His words embolden you further, guiding your movements on invisible strings as you slowly let them graze your collarbone, tracing the curve of your breasts, the peaks sensitive to the exploring touch of your fingertips, and a soft sigh tumbles from your parted lips, eyes fluttering close with the sensation of warmth dripping in your core.
“Like this?”, you utter on a breathless whisper.
“Does it feel good?” You can hear the strain of arousal in his voice, the way it grows rougher with every move of your hands over your body.
“It does,” you breathe, continuing to let your hands roam down, over the sides of your legs until you reach the hem of the nightgown, and making your movements freeze.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, darling.” Loki’s voice is as gentle as the softest blanket as he senses your hesitation.
“I want to.”
“Then what holds you back?”, he inquires softly.
“I’ve never…” you trail off once more, biting your lip. “I’ve never done that.”
“Well, we’re in a confessional,” Loki teases softly, “If you don’t have any sins to confess yet, we should commit one, don’t you think?”
It makes a smile curve your lips, chasing away the exposed feeling, the shame of your lack of any experience.
“Do you want me to guide you, darling?” Loki croons, and the seductive tone having crept back into his voice makes desire burn even brighter in your core.
Your tongue is heavy, the words stuck in your throat with the sudden urge to feel him all over you, doing what you dreamed of for so long. “Yes.”
As soon as the words have left your lips, his smile flashes again.
Green light ripples through the dark, like water dancing on the surface of a lake. When the light is gone, a gasp tumbles from your mouth.
He’s right behind you all of a sudden, the heat of his body so close seeping through his black suit to lick at your feverish skin, and you lean into him on instinct until your spine is pressed flush against his firm chest, thin white silk rustling against black fabric while his intoxicating scent wraps around you like an invisible embrace.
“How did you do this?”, you inquire with awe, and you feel him breath play over your hair when he laughs softly.
“I told you I’m a god. You can learn to do that, as well, darling.”
His hands settle over yours. A tingle of electricity zaps through your veins, every single one of your senses on alert to the contact of Loki’s skin on yours. The wind is knocked from your lungs in a sharp exhale at the sensation that makes the need in your core flare like the greedy flames of an Easter Bonfire, flames leaping high.
You feel Loki’s breath playing over the crook of your neck as he angles his head, feel the jagged pace of his heartbeat against the curve of your spine, and your eyes flutter close as his dark presence engulfs you, swallows you whole to leave you breathless with the hunger he instils in you.
A few heartbeats pass, the two of you savouring each other’s closeness, until you realize he’s waiting for your signal, to give him the consent to go further.
“Show me,” you whisper. This time, it’s a demand, spoken on a voice crushed with desire.
One of his hands trails down your waist, over the outside of your thigh to hike up the hem of your silken nightgown with torturing slowness, while his other hand, the one that’s still settled over yours, guides your hand downwards, to the waistband of your panties, dipping below the fabric to the slickness pooling between your legs.
The sensation of it crashes over you like a flood wave – his fingers gently leading yours between your legs, the arousal that drips between your legs coating your fingertips as he guides them to the spot at the apex of your thighs.
“I have dreamed of this for so long,” he croons, his breath hot as it trickles the shell of your ear, his long lashes whispering over your sensitive skin, “To have my hands all over your beautiful body and watch you come undone in every way possible.”
The heaviness of his voice, dripping like honeyed wine to cloud your senses and inebriate your mind with its intoxicating darkness, curls around you when he tenderly guides your fingertips over that swollen bundle of nerves, and you cry out at the bliss of the sensation the movement sends rippling through your body.
“Does that feel good?”, Loki croons, but the feeling of it is stealing the words from your tongue, replacing them with a moan to fill the half-light of the confessional, a sound as sinful as the things you’re letting him do.
If this is what paves your path to Hell, you’ll gladly walk that road. You’ll gladly burn in the eternal flames of purgatory as long as he continues to guide your fingertips over the slickness of your folds, holds you in his strong arms like he does now.
The noises conjured from your lips like the darkest of melodies as Loki guides your hand over that spot in slow, languid circles, mingle with the god’s own ragged breaths against the side of your neck, and when your hips roll against the caress of your fingertips, an instinct as ancient as life roused in your body, raw and hungry for more of these blissful sensations, you feel something hard press against your lower back and your eyes fly open at the realization what it is.
“What – what about you?”, you inquire timidly.
“Don’t worry about me,” he breathes, and his lips caress the sensitive skin at the back of your neck, making you shiver with want. “How does it feel, darling?”, he demands softly, “Is it what you hoped it would be like?”
Your fingertips dip into the wetness pooling between your legs, while Loki’s other hand leaves its place on your leg to wander up, following the curve of your waist and up to palm your left breast through the wisp of silk, the pad of his thumb playing with the hardened peak to draw more sounds of pleasure from your lips before he moves on to the other.
“Good,” you rasp, “Heavenly.”
There’s a smirk in your voice, and you bite your lips before another moan can rip free. If this is how he makes your own hands feel…how will it feel when he’s buried inside you?
Loki chuckles, his lips leaving hot trails of sparks on your skin wherever they graze, and he whispers, “I want to see you come undone beneath me. I want to hear these sinful sounds you’re still holding back echoing through this chapel for every other being, deity or human, to know that you’re mine and I’m yours.” His voice darkens like the fabric of the night sky outside when he adds on a fractured breath, “I want to worship you like the goddess you are, Y/N.”
It’s the first time he’s spoken your name, but your mind is too caught up in the blissful haze of pleasure as he guides your fingertips over your clit to help you build this sweet pleasure, to realize you’ve never told him your name.
“Please.” The reply falls from your lips in a soft plea.
“A goddess doesn’t plead,” Loki growls softly, “Only command.”
“Then worship me,” you moan, feeling him smile against your sweat-glazed skin before the air ripples with green light once more and you feel the world tilt beneath your feet as darkness engulfs the two of you.
When it dissipates, you’re not crammed up in the confessional any longer.
You’re standing atop the dais, right in front of the altar carved from dark oakwood, and you gasp when Loki’s hands let go of yours to spin you to face him with such mischief in his sapphire eyes, that your legs feel like giving in with the desire for him.
You don’t protest when he lifts you up and gently places you on the edge of the altar, cold wood digging into the back of your thighs to form a pleasant contrast to the heat of your skin, before Loki steps between your legs, one hand gliding down to free himself of the constraints of the black pants while the other hooks at the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs with a swift movement.
Anticipation makes your blood sing in your veins, anticipation for all the sinful things you’re about to do together.
“I want you.” The demand leaves your lips on a soft whisper, and Loki’s hands grab your rear to pull you closer to the altar’s edge, his nails digging into your skin with a pleasant sting.
“Then have me, darling. I’m all yours.”
With this, he pushes forward, and the world seems to freeze around you when he slides into you, torturingly slow, sheathing himself in the welcoming slick warmth of your core. The moans that spill from your lips tangle with his own as he fills you, a sinful symphony that echoes through the cold air of the chapel as every nerve in your body seems to sing a song only he can hear.
With the moonlight spilling through the stained-glass windows above the altar, painting streaks of light in silver and red over the two of you, you finally see him up close, and Loki’s beauty makes your throat constrict, steals the air from your lungs. His gaze holding yours, pupils dilated with lust, are brimming with emotions you’ve yet to name, mirroring the tangle of feelings ensnaring your own racing heart.
For a heartbeat, you stay like this, watching each other, bodies so beautifully joined. The feeling of his throbbing length inside of you brings a serenity, a sense of peace, of belonging, that you’ve never felt before, never believed yourself capable of feeling. Like the word finally snapping into place, the feeling of missing something is chased away by the knowledge that the homesickness is over because…you’ve found him. You found your home.
It’s the most beautiful thing you ever felt.
“I finally found you,” Loki whispers into the chill air.
Before you can ask what he means, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that’s sensual and greedy, sweet and sinful all at the same time, tongue coaxing your mouth open as he slowly pulls out of you, only to let his hips snap against yours and bury himself even deeper in your throbbing walls, a sting of pain mingling with the pleasure of him filling you so perfectly with every inch of his cock, stretching your walls around him.
Loki stills when he feels your muscles tense beneath his palm, but your hands come up to lock at the nape of his neck to hold him close, begging for him to drive himself deeper into your core. “It’s okay,” you breathe into the kiss, “It doesn’t hurt. Do it again. Please.”
His lips never leaving yours, he obeys your wish.
“You’re absolutely divine, my darling,” he croons into the fierce kiss, hips snapping against yours in slow thrusts, each one burrowing him deeper in your aching walls with slick, sinful sounds that tangle in the air with your breaths, moans carried through the chapel’s nave as Loki makes you his, marks your soul with his kisses and your body with his intoxicating scent of copper and herbs and leather.
Fire leaps at your nerve endings with every push that brings him closer to you, every time his tip grazes the throbbing spot deep inside of you to make you cry out with ecstasy.
Loki’s arms snake around you, palms settling on back of your head, his fingertips buried in your hair to hold you close against him as his pacing quickens. Never, not in your wildest dreams, would you have thought it would feel like this. This all-consuming, ravenous desire as he thrusts into you, the way you feel the thread around your heart glowing as bright as the need in your core. It feels right, like two stars colliding which have been separated by the fabric of the black skies for far too long, a radiant light which fills you to the tips of your fingers that weave through the silken strands of Loki’s hair as you swallow each other’s moans with bruising kisses under the moonlight spilling through the stained-glass windows and onto the altar like a silver-touched blessing.
All your life, you’ve been taught that this is wrong – yet never before has anything felt so utterly right.
There’s only the fire Loki builds in your core with every gentle thrust as he gives you his everything.
And just as you wonder how much more of this sweet bliss you’re able to take, you come undone.
Lights dance in the darkness beneath your closed eyes, travelling through your body in glowing currents as your cry of pleasure splinters in the still air, your walls clenching around him in the throes of your climax that makes him topple over the edge as well. Loki’s release spills into your heat with the loveliest groan ripping from his throat as he guides you through your climaxes, his grip on you tightening with the force of his orgasm when he lets his hands caress the sides of your neck, over the curve of your shoulders and down along the inside of your arms, his fingertips brushing gently over the mark adorning your wrist as he rides out your climaxes with faltering thrusts.
When his fingertips make contact with the strange symbol on your skin, it’s as if a wave of warm water immerses you in the aftermath of your orgasm. Your vision blurs, and memories rush through your mind that don’t belong to you, snippets of moments like the shards of a broken mirror.
A sense of loneliness.
Fireworks sparkling over a water as a woman with beautifully braided hair bends down to whisper, “You can do that, too, little raven. You can do whatever you set your mind on.”
The image is torn by another memory shard, a trembling hand, pale skin turning to an icy blue, red eyes glaring back from a mirror’s reflection.
Pain, sharp and deep, a pain that reaches to the depths of a soul and leaves a scar to never fully heal again.
Fire and screams.
The bare wall of a dungeon cell, tears streaming down sharp cheekbones.
Watching as something etches itself in the skin of his wrist, a rune with sharp lines spreading beneath his skin like the blackest ink.
It’s your name, written in the lines of a single symbol.
A sense of peace like he never felt before. The frenzied need to find you, find you, find you, find you…
A whisper in the dark, hoping you’ll hear it wherever you are. I’ll find you. There’s no crevice in the Nine Realms where I won’t find you, norðurstjarna.
A scream ripping from his throat when he thinks he can’t.
You resurface with a sharp gasp, tears streaming down your cheeks like droplets of rain as your eyes find his, his arms still locked around yours, his body still joined with yours as his chest rapidly rises and falls against yours.
Your eyes widen with the shock of what you just saw, your mind still hazy with the afterglow of your climax.
“I – I know you,” you stammer.
Loki’s expression is impossibly soft. Tears are glittering in the corners of his eyes beneath the beams of moonlight as he searches your gaze.
When he doesn’t answer, you breathe, voice heavy with the lump in your throat, “Are you the one I’ve been forced to hide from all my life?”
There is no accusation in your voice, no anger in your heart. How could there be, after everything you’ve just watched happening, all the things he went through and everything you feel for him in your heart as the missing pieces fall in place like the shards of a stained-glass window, the image completed in the most stunning colours.
“Yes,” Loki breathes softly, and silence settles over the two of you.
When he notices the goosebumps racing up your arms with the sudden intrusion of the cold night air, green light shimmers, and a soft, green blanket places itself over your shoulders. The gesture is so intimate, so loving, that you need to swallow back the tears threatening to spill at Loki’s obvious devotion for you.
“You’ve been searching for me,” you murmur.
“Ever since you reached adulthood and your name appeared on my wrist.”
“Why?” It’s a whisper, crumbling with the intensity of emotions churning in your chest.
“I think you know that already.” Loki’s voice is as soft as the caress of his fingertips on your cheek as he catches a stray tear you didn’t notice falling.
“I’m your soulmate,” you whisper, “And you’re mine.”
“There’s a monster living in my veins,” Loki whispers, and the sadness shadowing his eyes reverberates through your own heart when he continues, voice rough with emotions, with the desire that burned through him only minutes ago, “Your mother was a maid at the Asgardian palace when I was thrown into the dungeons. I believe she thought I would hurt you, that the mark that would etch itself into your soul –“ his thumbs gently brush over the symbol – the rune, his name inked on your skin and to the fabric of your soul just as yours on his, the most beautiful mark of all – and warmth travels through your very being at the touch like a pleasant shudder – “was a curse binding you to me. I’ve spent so many decades searching for you. Though it was never my intention to cause you any harm, Y/N. Never.”
You believe him. How could you not, gazing into the truths of his very soul, the good and evil residing there side by side like the most beautiful play of shadows and light.
It’s as if your whole life, you’ve seen only a fragment of a picture – to realize now that there is so much more, so many things making sense when you finally are able to gaze at the whole painting.
You’re a goddess. Asgardian. Separated from your soulmate for so long that you want to spill a myriad of tears over every second you’ve lost, weeping for what has been kept from you for so many decades.
“When I finally found you, I needed to make sure you wanted to be found. That you didn’t see me as the monster everyone else sees. That you were willing to throw away the only life you’d known.”
“What if I didn’t?”, you challenge softly, though the answer is as clear as day, shining in Loki’s desperate gaze.
“I would have left.”
Your heart bleeds at the pain laced in the truth of his words, at the thought of this sacrifice he would have made for you.
When you lean in to place the sweetest of kisses to Loki’s cheek, you still feel him – his body joined with yours, and his soul intertwined with your own, woven together after all these decades of searching for each other, longing for that piece that had been missing.
“I never want you to leave,” you breathe. “Never.”
“I never want to leave you,” Loki whispers.
“Will you take me with you?”, you smile, and the smile Loki gives you in return is as bright and blinding as the sun amidst the depth of freezing winter, immersing you with its gentle warmth until you feel like every piece of your soul is thrumming with happiness, every faded petal of the garden in your heart radiant with new life.
“Wherever you want, norðurstjarna.“
There it is again, the word he kept whispering to you in your dreams.
“What does that mean?”
“It means my Northern Star,” Loki says softly, his lips brushing over yours as he inches closer. “I was lost until I found you, so I deemed it fitting.”
You angle your head to graze your lips against his, savouring the sensation with every fibre of your soul. “I promise you’ll never be lost again, Loki.”
♡ 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭)
𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝)🖤:
@boneheadduluc @spiderhostia @a-midwinter-night-dream-86 @zemosimp05 @justfangirlthingies @cazzyimagines @rumblelibrary @victias @justanothertruebeliver @chiptaylormybeloved @vverliebt @madhatter2727 @a-simp-recommends-fics @morphoportis @superavengerpotter @savvywords @thatoneleoslytherin @clockblobber @jhawk608 @kingtwhiddleston @spooksgalore69 @paetonnn @chaosbringer566 @jesuisbenny @idkimjusthere23 @dirtytissuebox @sarahpaq08 @janetsnakehole02 @swimgirl5665 @wojciechovsk @flawed---by---design @the-maroon-panda @charistory @lokiperfection @jen-w @i-l-y-3000 @spicy-acocado @fallinallinmendes @awkward-and-indecisive @whiskeywinter89 @cringingmemeries @osugahunnyicedtea @dead-mitochondria @littleone65 @glee-ghost @theaudacitytowrite @marchingicenotes7 @palepurserebelcloud @glacial-snowflakes @variant59 @lokistoriesblog @classicmarvelavenue @confettucini @1marvelnerd3000 @gabewerk @huffpuff10 @pugcess @wh0reforthemarauders @pictsiepanda @sititran @getwelloki @notyourfuckingbusinesss @damnzelsoul @itsybitchylittlewitchy @that-one-girl-that-simps @psyc-hot-ic-gingers-kitten @extrodinary-disaster @d1a2n389 @idkdude44 @realandloud @sherlockhss @ferriswheel97 @purple-blommie @milly-louise @deanaddicted2 @pizzaobsessedperson @fire-in-her-veinz @finnismyoriginalsin @raven762 @kneelingsince2012 @thegloriousavenger @i-stand-with-loki @inconspicuoussophia @ladykotoko @user13cabs @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @nurisiliel @angelofthorr @gold-bea @idkwhat-my-name-should-be @pointlessnachos @lokipath @donaweasley @plainlo-inthemorning @halerune @kingtwhiddleston @glacial-snowflakes @virtualstrawberrydinosaur @delaber
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A/N: Requests from @elliemustdraw and two anons. Honestly, this is going to be cute and hot at the same time!
Warnings: lots of fluff with a smutty twist and some mild exhibitionism
What you had expected when you first started dating the God of Mischief was to be getting in a relationship with a morally grey antihero who would sweep you off your feet and practically force you to fall in love with him.
And it was like that—but it was so much more. Loki was the most adorable, charming and considerate lover you had ever had. He cared for you in a way no one ever had and the way he looked at you… as if he was willing to rip the stars from the night sky if only you asked him to. With you, he acted… different.
You had been together for a good month now—and while the rest of the Avengers were still in doubt about Loki’s intentions, you were constantly on cloud nine. Halloween was fast approaching and with that, you were getting into a spooky mood. Unfortunately for you, however, you were the only one that still seemed to care about the eerie holiday.
Halloween got you excited and it was ironically one of the few days of the year where you wouldn’t think about murder, villains and the fact your life was in danger practically every single day of your life.
This year, Tony was hosting a Halloween party. Costumes were optional but you would take the opportunity to drag Loki to the closest shopping mall with you to get some decorations for your room, some Halloween-themed snacks as well as a costume for the party.
You were the only one who still cared this much about the spooky holiday and truth be told, it did make you feel a little silly. Were you too old after all, maybe? The Halloween shop was full of children when you arrived, picking out their little pumpkin-shaped candy baskets and laughing about the jelly rats and spiders. Oh, but you loved those too…
Interlacing your hand with Loki’s for support, you dragged him towards the aisle to load some of your favourite Halloween candy into your trolley.
“Are we having a party on our own?” Loki enquired, frowning. You giggled.
“Well, maybe… we might get fed up with socialising with Tony’s friends so we could just quietly disappear at some point and have our own spooky celebration with lots of snacks… and those!” You said, pointing at the cute light-up pumpkin garlands on one of the many shelves.
“Right…” Loki didn’t seem all too convinced but surely, the idea of snuggling together all night, watching scary movies and ending up having sex was appealing to him as well. Besides… you had a feeling that you would make Loki love Halloween as much as you did so as long as you would be able to shake off that stupid feeling of being judged for your passion.
“What did you have in mind for your costume?” He asked once you had loaded the trolley to the brim. There were Halloween napkins, garlands, skull-shaped goblets to drink out of, gummy worms, lots of chocolate along with an orange candy bowl with bats on them and even those delicious candy apples they kept in a refrigerated area.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. Any ideas? Maybe I should dress up as Thor.” You joked. Loki’s face distorted.
“If you do that, I will stab you.”
You giggled. To be quite honest, you did have an idea of what you wanted to dress up as this year. But could you really pull off a sexy devil? You longed to wear a tight and short red dress, red knee-high heels and a cute pair of equally red horns in your hair. They had this costume. You had looked it up online yesterday.
Biting your lower lip, you kept your eyes peeled for it, reaching for it with an excited smile once you found it and located your size. But then, that smile faltered.
“What’s wrong, little mortal?”
“It’s nothing, I just… am I too old for this? People around us have been looking at me weirdly ever since we got to the Halloween store. There’s a high chance no one but me will dress up at Tony’s party either. I’ll look so childish, it’ll be embarrassing!” You confessed.
“Are you too old to take joy in the things you love? Why would you be? It is a Halloween party, is it not?”
“I had to learn the hard way that it does not matter what other people think about you, sweetling. So go ahead. Dress up. Do it out of spite if they think it’s childish.” Loki sighed, choosing his next words carefully. “If it makes you feel more confident, then I will dress up as well.”
Your eyes widened. “What? You want to dress up with me?”
“Why not? I am a shapeshifter. I can be whoever I want to be. You can pick.” He winked at you. “So go try it on.” You beamed at him. Leaving him behind with the shopping trolley, the last thing you saw before closing the curtains was him sitting down on one of the sofas near the changing rooms.
You got changed quickly, not quite daring to look in the mirror when you were done. Hmm… you did look a little ridiculous. The costume was made of latex—and it pulled attention to every single curve of your body, not all of which you particularly liked. The horns looked adorable at least but even with the sexy shoes… you didn’t see it.
“Are you going to show me?” You heard Loki say.
“Um… actually… I think it doesn’t fit… I’ll get changed back again.” You froze when he spoke your name in an almost threatening manner.
“What is it? Show me.”
You took a deep breath then, pulling back the curtains and shrugging when his blue eyes fell on you. His reaction, however, surprised you. His lips parted and when his gaze ran over you slowly, you feared he would pounce on you there and then… right in the changing room.
“Darling… you look ravishing.” He smirked.
“You… you don’t think I look like a bratwurst squeezed into a piece of latex? Because… that’s what I feel like.”
Loki narrowed his eyes at you and shook his head slowly. “No…” He took a breath to say something else but closed his mouth again, making you frown.
“I thought you liked it?”
“I do. You look incredible.”
“This dress is… dangerously short. I fear those primitive Midgardian men might take advantage of that and undress you with their eyes like prey.”
“O-oh…” Wow. You had not expected that.
“You are mine,” he continued, growling. “I will not let any of those oafs see what belongs to me and me alone if they are going to be inappropriate about it.”
Truth be told… you had had no idea that mere words spoken from this man’s mouth could turn you on this much. Your knickers were damp with need, your mouth dry. If you dragged him into the changing room, pulled the curtains shut and sucked him off like a Halloween popsicle right now, would he object? He could just use magic to allow you both to have your fun without any unwanted ears and eyes…
“S-So… I mean… I can… I’ll choose a different costume then.”
Loki nodded. “But we’ll buy this one too.” He announced, winking at you once more and making your pussy clench. Fuck… And then it hit you. You belonged to Loki, Loki belonged to you. You loved seeing him in his full Asgardian attire and he did promise to dress up with you. You had an idea.
Loki stood, treading towards you menacingly, making your eyes widen. The curtains flew shut behind him by magic and before you even knew what was happening, he had already lifted you up, hoisting you up until his face was right between your legs.
Aroused by his mere strength alone, you suppressed a moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He was right. The dress was dangerously short and the impact of him pushing you against the wall had caused it to slide up to reveal your knickers—which Loki made sure to have disappeared before pressing his mouth against your lower lips, drinking in your scent.
“They will not be able to hear us.” He breathed against your entrance, his tongue darting out to taste your wetness. Oh fuck… There was something about him holding you above him like that and eating you out, especially since the two of you were technically in public. It was mischievous. And you loved it.
A silent scream escaped your lips when he closed his lips around your clit and started suckling on it, his tongue teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves all the same. He had you on the brink of orgasm in no time, having you writhe in his tight grasp, bucking your hips against his face and burying your hands in his raven hair.
Loki’s chin was glistening with your juices, his breathing as heavy as yours as you rode his face up in the air, helping you climb that delicious ladder of pleasure higher and higher.
You came with a moan, your orgasm rippling through you and clouding your mind fast and hard. Pulsing against him, you nearly suffocated him with your thighs in an attempt to drag it out for as long as you possibly could before going completely limp in his arms, spent, relaxed… and feeling incredibly sexy.
“I think I know what I’m going to dress up as now.” You let him know, still panting. You would keep the horns too. But you’d make them gold for Halloween.
A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ♥ ko-fi.com/sserpente Big hug!
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size kink jotun Loki fics SIZE KINK JOTUN LOKI FICS AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH
Unsure if this is an official request, or just excitement for the possibility of a fic but here it is at long last!
Thank you for the excuse to write this as a part of my request celebration, A Dark Celebration!
Pairing: Jotunn!Loki x fem!Reader
Summary: Loki pays you a visit.
This is work of fiction is 18+!!!!, and contains graphic descriptions of size kink sex, thigh riding, fingering, sex (m/f), cum play, and dirty talk . Please do not interact if you are a minor or are sensitive towards any of the themes mentioned above.
Thank you so much to my followers and anyone who's read a fic of mine. Likes, reblogs and comments mean more than you know. 🖤
He comes to you at night.
A heavy knock on your door, that sly grin greeting you as you peered up at him.
“Loki,” you smiled, opening the door so he could dip inside.
“Pet,” he straightened out thanks to the high ceilings of the loft you chose to rent with him in mind. He unbuckled his armour, letting it fall to the floor. Still striding to your room he melted off his crown before settling in the bed he bought you, barely accommodating his size. He sat with his back against your wall, his legs sprawled out against the white sheets. “Come here.”
You slipped out of your robe then crawled onto the bed and curled up in his lap, your head against his lower abdomen. He bent to press a kiss against your head, his fingertips lightly running against your back through the thin material of your oversized t-shirt.
“I missed you,” you rubbed your head against his skin, enjoying the cool against your face, the raised caste marks brushing against your skin.
“Did you, darling?” There was a smirk to his voice, a challenge.
You looked up at him and nodded, biting your lip.
You know what he wanted and you quickly got to work taking off your clothes. Standing to slide your panties down your legs you came back to straddle one of his thighs. You looked up to him, and started moving your hips back and forth against his cooled skin. You inhaled sharply as your clit ran up against a caste mark, the sensation sending a shiver through you. You never could last long with Loki.
He watched you, eyes lazily taking you in. “Such a good little girl for me.”
You whined, already so close to cumming for him.
He fisted his cock through his undergarments, already straining against the fabric. His red eyes followed your every move. “So wet for me.”
You nodded, your mouth hanging open to accommodate your breath. You could feel it bubbling up within you already, the feel of his large form under yours driving you wild. He reached a large hand out to hold your waist, guiding your movements as he stroked himself. Your head was spinning with him, the cool, smooth feel of his touch on your skin, his scent, his voice.
“Come on then darling, why don’t you soak me?” He said the words with a nod in your direction, the command clear. “I can tell you’re close. Let me feel that pretty little cunt on my thigh. Such a tiny thing. Cum for me.” He had released his cock from the confines of his undergarments and was readily stroking his skin. The sight of his darkened blue member, lined with caste marks, looking large even in his own hand made your mouth run dry.
It only took two more thrusts of your hips along his thigh before you came, wet dripping down either side of his thigh and onto the bed. He hissed as he watched you, his fingertips digging deliciously into you.
He gripped you by your hips and lifted you with ease, laying you beside him, your body still twitching with aftershocks. He turned towards you, his cock pressed against the side of your thigh as he leant on one arm, eyes running over your form.
After a moment, his velvety voice breaks the silence. “Do you want me to touch you?”
You nod, squirming at the very thought. “Please.”
He brought the tip of his index finger to your face. “Get it ready, pet.”
You eagerly started to suck the large digit, it’s width almost too much for your jaw. You bobbed your head up and down over it and he hissed, his hips subtly bucking into you.
He eventually pulled it from your lips, dragging it down your face, neck, chest, then belly, coming to a stop just before your aching sex. His red gaze taunted you as your hips bucked up into the air, your body mindlessly trying to find release. He swirled his finger over your lower abdomen before dipping it lower, running it between your folds, teasing you gently.
You were writhing, moaning on the bed with his touch.
He raised an eyebrow at you as he slowly inserted his finger into your dripping hole. “Fuck. So warm, so tight, I can barely fit my finger in you. How will you ever take my cock, darling?” He held the digit still within you.
You whined, consciously attempting to relax your muscles against his large finger. You started moving your hips against his hand before he stopped you with his thumb, pressing down on your clit.
After a beat he started to fuck you with his finger, your muscles clenching around him as he brought you more pleasure, his thumb still pressing against your bud. His hips are moving in time with his hand, his cock rock hard against your leg. Your back was arched, breath heavy as he worked you.
His dark-rimmed eyes were watching you intently, clearly enjoying the way you moved against him. “Play with your nipples for me.”
You brought your hands up to either breast and roughly palmed the skin before taking either nipple between your fingers, rolling and pinching at the skin. The act forced deep moans from your chest, the pleasure almost too intense. You loved feeling so small, so dainty against his large body as he took his pleasure from you.
He started to pick up the pace, the room filled with the obscene sounds of your slick on him, his quickened breath, and your deep, almost guttural moans.
“That’s it little girl, that’s it. Take it. Take it all.”
You lost it at that, his silver tongue driving every thought from your head. Your back arched fully off the bed, your hips driven backwards to provide his large finger better access.
“Loki, please!” You begged, your eyes frantically looking to his.
“You want to cum?” The vibration of his voice against you made you cry out pitifully.
“Please,” you breathed, his pace unrelenting.
“Hmmm, such a warm little cunt.” He bent to nip at your neck, his breath cool against your warm body. “It feels so lovely on my finger. I think you can wait a little longer.”
You whined, looking down to see where his fingers entered you. You threw your head back in exasperation before shuddering and bringing your gaze back to plead with him.
“Please,” you croaked, “my King.”
A slow, filthy grin spread across his dark lips as he looked down at you. “There’s a good little pet.” He bent to whisper against your ear. “Cum for your King,” he growled and angled his finger in the slightest, driving it deeper.
You could feel him moving it within you, stretching you out as your muscles had him in a vicelike hold. One, two, three more thrusts of his hand and you were screaming his name, coming absolutely undone before him.
“That’s it, that’s it, good girl.”
You were trembling against his palm, his movements now slow.
Eventually your breath returned to normal and he rolled onto his back, fisting his cock. You moved to kneel between his outstretched legs on the mattress. He was watching you carefully, his chest heaving as he played with himself.
“Loki,” you crawled forward to grab his hand, “please.”
He furrowed his brow, concern crossing his features. You’d taken him a handful of times before after a lot of coaxing. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you ached for him and you knew the two orgasms he’d wracked through your body had relaxed your muscles.
“Please,” you repeated, taking his cock in two hands. “I can take you, Loki.”
He was watching you carefully, his chest heaving. After a while he pressed his lips together. “Are you sure?”
“All right darling, come here.” He lifts you by your hips again, moving down the bed so that his knees were hanging over the edge, his feet on the floor. He settled you over his cock, holding you delicately as you repositioned yourself.
You settled your palms against his lower abdomen and kneeled against his hips, still holding his cock between both hands. You edged your legs apart and brought it between your thighs before gingerly lowering yourself, stopping after the first inch to try and accommodate to his size.
He was panting now, angling himself up so he could watch you lower yourself, his eyes flickering between your dripping cunt and your face.
You took him in, inch by inch, eventually straddling him as best you could between your thighs. You never got used to the stretch, the slow burn of him within you, cooled by his jotunn blood and the deep pleasure of being so full. After a deep breath you looked up at him and bit your lip, tentatively grinding your hips.
His head fell back and he groaned. “So fucking tight, pet.”
You dug your fingernails into his skin when you felt a caste mark against your clit, the raised skin causing your to cry out, clenching around him.
“Gods.” He murmured, taking a deep breath.
You got ahold of yourself and pressed your palms flat against his taut abdomen before bringing your hips up then back down. Quickly finding a rhythm, you were moaning loudly as the slick from your cunt made its way down between you, lubricating where your skin met his.
He looked back up at you, his mouth open, eyes glazed. “That’s it, you perfect little thing. Fuck.”
“Loki,” you moaned, one of his hands gripping your ass, the other on your hip, guiding your movements.
“Yes darling, that’s it. That cunt belongs to me. No one can fuck you like this. No one owns you like I do. That perfect, little cunt stretched fully around my cock.”
You nodded, your mouth hanging open as you took him in.
“Does it feel good, pet? To be so full of me, so full of my cock? To have me ruin you over and over?”
“Yes,” you shuddered, the pleasure too delicious, the words coming from him only adding to it.
“Good girl. Now tell me what you want me to do to you.”
You used a hand against him to steady yourself, swallowing dryly. “Cum in me, please cum in my cunt,” you whined, your hips circling with your movements.
“Fuck, darling. So lovely,” he breathed, his eyes sliding down your body. “Be my good little girl and cum with me.”
You nodded. “I’m close. Please, my King, please cum in me. Please fill me up with your cum,” you were writhing against him now, your movements urgent as you craved for his release.
He groaned and thrust up into you, holding you in place as he moved within you over and over.
You moved your hands up to toy with your breasts, pinching your nipples between your thumb and forefinger, your back arched. The pleasure bubbling up within you made your toes curl, but you held on for him.
“That’s it- fuck!” He gave you one hard thrust and you felt him twitch within you, the sensation of his cool seed filling your womb driving you over the edge.
“Loki!” You screamed, your muscles moving against him, drawing his seed deeper within you, the marks on his skin eliciting more jolts of pure bliss from your body.
You continued to move against him, both of you riding out your highs, some of his cum already dripping out around where his skin met yours.
“Gods,” he panted, his grip falling from you.
You smiled and bit your lip, carefully climbing off of him, his cum already running down your leg. You settled up against him, your head on his chest, his hand coming to trace patterns on your back. You could feel the cum between your legs start to warm with the heat from your skin. You squirmed, happy with the mess- his mess, covering your skin.
He turned towards you, a smirk on his lips. “Such a dirty little pet, hm?”
You nodded, pressing a kiss to his chest. You settled back in, humming contentedly.
“I do love this sight,” he traced his index finger down your back, running it over the skin of your waist before dipping between your legs. He collected some of his cum and brought it up to your lips. You eagerly lapped at his finger, cleaning his essence from it fully. He bit his lip, smirking as he shook his head. “We should get you cleaned up.”
You pouted at him but allowed him to scoop you up and carry you to the bath. He carefully washed you and towelled you off, kneeling before you, his eyes running up your skin. “Pretty girl.”
You smiled and waited as he washed himself. He carried you back to bed, laying down before settling you over him so your head was against his chest.
“Sleep, darling. I’ll be right here.” He threw the large comforter over you both.
You drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat, safe in his arms.
Author's Note: Okay so this was outlined as soon as the What If? episode came out... but I haven't had time to get to it until now! I sincerely hope you enjoy! Shoutout to this Tik Tok for the size references- without these this fic would not exist (or it would and it'd be filled with inaccuracies!).
Next up is sub!Loki 😈
Thank you again so much for reading my fics, I love you all!
Masterlist of fics written so far is here!
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when doves cry || l.laufeyson
tony pursed his lips as everyone gathered at the dinner table, natasha in her dolly parton comeback tour hoodie, bucky and steve in matching pj bottoms, peter wearing his gym shirt and finally thor in nothing but some tight little shorts.
tony served himself and looked around, throwing out the one question he thought about in the moment.
you panted heavily as loki pounded into you, the headboard knocking violently against the wall, disturbing the peace throughout the tower, you cursed as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach.
you cried out, clutching onto lokis arms that gripped your thighs.
“quiet my dove, don’t want them to hear us, do you?” he panted and clasped a hand over your mouth. he had tried to contain himself but he couldn’t any longer, he let you go, and thrusted harder, “cry my dove, cry.”
you clenched around him, earning a groan from him as he slowed down, wanting to feel your warmth.
a knock disturbed your peace and you gasped quietly, hearing tony on the other side.
“y/n? dinners ready if you wanna come down. it’s pot roast!” tony shouted and you felt suddenly too exposed, hiding under loki even though the door was locked.
loki hissed, “it’s okay my dove.” he whispered and gave you a kiss, nodding for you to respond.
you cleared your throat of any shakiness and spoke out, “i’ll be down in a few! my movie just got really good!”
tony chuckled nervously, “yeah? the whole tower can hear it! seems interesting but remember peter lives here too!”
you laughed lightly, “yeah sorry! it’s the surround sound with the new speakers, i’ll try to turn it down..”
you knew tony didn’t buy it.
tony walked down, he knew y/n was lying. she was definitely having sex, even though she had sworn she wasn’t seeing anyone, maybe a heads up would’ve helped so he wouldn’t have it awkwardly check on her.
tony walked back down to the rest of the avengers and smiled sheepishly, “she’s definitely having sex with someone. there was steam coming out from under her door.” he remarked, watching nat and steve both share a look.
thor laughed, “good for y/n! had me worried i would have in step in and move some things around.”
peter looked at thor and raised an eyebrow, “like what?”
thor set his fork down and shrugged, “mhm i dunno, her organs and reproductive parts most likely.”
bucky choked on his drink as thor finished his sentence, earning a back pat from steve.
tony sighed, “whatever. the only issue is, who is she fucking?”
with that, you stepped down into the room, your hair pulled back into a tight bun, slippers and sweatpants on with a very thick hoodie to top it off.
“what’s up.” you gave a quiet response and eyed tony.
everyone silently stared as you grabbed a plate and began to plate the food.
thor smirked and seemed to want to break the silence but tony stepped up.
“who are you seeing?” he puffed his chest out slightly in a way to sort of seem confident in the complete violation of your privacy.
“no one important.” you remarked and began to cut away at your pot roast.
you lifted your sleeves slightly to not ruin them and utterly forgot about the nail indentations and bruises in the shape of hands on your forearms.
“uhm.” peter pointed out and you blushed, pulling them down.
nat laughed, “is it sex or a cage fight?”
thor laughed rancorously with her and you rolled your eyes.
you phone suddenly went off and you picked it up,
tony turned to all the avengers and sighed, “come on y/n, tell us!”
you put a finger up and smiled, “yes, come on up.”
tony perked up and you hung the phone up.
the doorbell went off and you ran to it, opening it and enveloping the person on the other end in a hug.
grabbing their hand, you pulled them forward and the avengers faces all dropped into scowls immediately.
“good evening.” loki was well dressed in a suit and was holding flowers, handing them to you with a kiss.
thor spoke first, “brother?”
loki nodded, “in the flesh.” he smiled before his face darkened, “don’t talk about rearranging my dove’s organs when i’ve already done it hundreds of times. i’ll kill you next time.”
nat looked at you and mouthed, ‘a hundred?’
bucky looked amused and steve was trying not to cry.
peter looked down at his plate and tony pursed his lips.
“next time don’t shove yourself in places you don’t belong in tony.” you warned, your eyes flashing blue with fury as you and loki walked back up to your bedroom, “save me a piece of pot roast!” he called out as you pulled him by his tie.
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21 - A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company. 22 - A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.
Lokisses Mini-Imagine Series
A/N: Once upon a time, in a multiverse not so far away, there existed a timeline where everyone lived happily ever after in the Tower. Loki, Bucky, Peter, and even little Morgan with her Dad. That is where our story takes place.
“Snacks are in the lower cupboard, her juice is on the second shelf of the fridge, I left a note in the kitchen of-"
"Tony!" You yelled. "We got it! Now go and enjoy your anniversary weekend with Pepper!"
"Okay," Tony finally said. "Thank you both so much. I never thought I'd be doing this but," He chuckled lightly. "I trust you guys to take care of my baby girl."
"We're happy to do so, Stark," Loki replied, holding back a laugh at his own current situation.
"I'm not a baby!" Morgan yelled. Tony squatted down to where she was, having wrapped herself around one of Loki's legs since he could still carry her around that way.
"You'll always be my baby," Tony replied, booping her nose. Morgan giggled and kissed her daddy goodbye. Pepper said her goodbyes as well and then they were gone.
It was quite adorable to see Loki playing Uncle and you found it to be oddly attractive. As you watched him play with little Morgan, casting a full fireworks show for her, you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if you had a little one of your own running around. You shook your head and went on to take care of some paperwork of your own that needed to be completed by the end of the day.
A few hours later, with Morgan sound asleep in Loki's arms on the sofa, you once again found yourself staring at the pair. Morgan had requested to watch Muppets Most Wanted and Loki had pretended to be offended when she said he looked like The Great Escapo. With the credits of the movie now playing, Loki turned off the TV and was trying to figure out how to stand up without disturbing the small human.
"Here," You whispered, walking over and carefully scooping her up. Once you took her to her room and tucked her in bed for an afternoon nap, you curled up on the couch next to your husband and smiled at him. "You're really good with her," You commented. He chuckled lightly and kissed your forehead.
"Is that so?" He smirked. "Don't think I haven't noticed you watching me all day. I can tell what thoughts have been running through that pretty little head of yours." Now it was your turn to smirk.
"Oh yeah?" You asked, sitting up a little taller but leaning closer to him.
"Yeah," He mumbled, pulling you in for a kiss. You gasped slightly at the intensity of his kiss, melting into him further. As he deepened the kiss, you heard a noise from the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
"Uncle Loki? Auntie Y/N?"
"Ah! Yes, Morgan?" You almost yelled, jumping away from Loki.
"I can't find my Bucky Bear," She whimpered, about to cry. Thankfully, she hasn't seemed to notice your rather compromising position when she'd walked in.
"I'll help you find it, sweetheart!" You said hurriedly. Eventually, you had Morgan tucked in again and asleep. Plopping down on the sofa, you huffed in exhaustion and looked up at Loki.
"Still want one of our own?" He chuckled.
"Absolutely," You grinned. Loki smiled but you could tell he was nervous about something. "What's wrong, my love?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands, looking straight at him.
"If we do have a kid," He said slowly. "He or she will probably inherit some of my-" he paused, scrunching his nose in disgust. "Traits."
"What's so bad about that?" You asked, not fully understanding at first. "I would love them to have your beautiful eyes or shining smile."
"No! I mean-" He started to yell, getting angry but quieted so as not to wake Morgan.
"Oh," You said quietly, catching his drift. "Darling, you do know I love you no matter what, right? Well why wouldn't I love our child?"
"I know you would love them, my dear," Loki sighed, smiling softly at you. "I was thinking more of what they'd have to face. How people would react to them."
"You do realize they made an entire children's movie about a girl with ice powers. Children's movie, Loki!"
"Elsa didn't turn blue," He retorted.
"Smurfs, Avatar, Megamind. I'm sure there's more. I'm not comparing you," You said. "But people love watching movies about blue people and ice people. So what could possibly be better than a blue ice person?" You exclaimed. Loki stared at you for a moment before laughing heartily.
"How do you always know what to say?" He grinned, hugging you tightly.
"Learned from the best, silvertongue," You teased. Loki kissed your cheek sweetly and the two of you put on a movie while Morgan napped before dinner had to be cooked.
The weekend went wonderfully, overall, with the exception of one incident while Loki and Morgan were playing hide-and-seek Magic! edition and Morgan turned out to be a far better hider than Loki anticipated. When Tony and Pepper arrived back home they insisted you stay for dinner.
"Thank you for inviting us to stay, St-uh, Tony," Loki said with a genuine smile.
"You know what? I really enjoyed myself," Tony admitted. "Well done, Loki, you've won me over," He grinned, holding out his hand. Loki shook it gratefully.
"I promise I'll never throw you out another window again-"
"Loki!" You exclaimed, whacking his arm. He laughed and so did Tony. You shook your head and glanced at Pepper who was just happy to finally have some peace in her life.
"Well I'm going to put Morgan to bed," She said, excusing herself from the table. A few minutes later though she returned.
"Something wrong?" Tony asked. "Does she want me to put her to bed?"
"No," Pepper said slowly. "It would seem she wants Uncle Loki to show her the bedtime story."
"Ah yes!" Loki said, standing up. He winked and shot a few fireworks out of his palm for good measure. "I'll return momentarily."
"So," Tony said as soon as Loki was out of earshot. "He's good with kids." You blushed brightly and Pepper shushed her nosey husband.
"Hopefully one day," You murmur, looking away slightly in embarrassment. "If we were to, though, what would it take for me to convince you to spoil the kid?" You ask Tony, smirking mischievously.
"Babysitting rights and they call me Uncle Tony."
"It's a deal," You grin, shaking his hand. Loki walks out a few minutes later and wraps his arms around you from behind.
"Never fear, the kingdom is safe once again now that the prince has slayed the dragon to protect his lovely princess!" He announced. You giggled and turned your head to look at him. Your action earned you a passionate yet chase kiss on the lips from Loki.
"Okay, we get it! You're in love!" Tony mock-complained. "Now let's enjoy the rest of our evening before you two decide to go make that baby right now!"
Both Loki and you blushed furiously but nodded, following Tony and Pepper to the living room. "You know," Pepper said slowly. "If you two do have a kid right now, Morgan really wouldn't be that much older than him, they'd make an adorable couple." You laughed and Tony, you were fairly certain, was having the first serious heart attack of his parental life.
"Don't worry, Stark, I'll be sure to teach him everything I know about respecting women before he asks for her hand in marriage." Tony blanched even further but nodded.
"I need a drink," He grumbled, getting up to serve himself. Chuckling slightly he turned back to Loki and smiled. "Want one?"
TAG ME IN EVERYTHING
Marvel (all characters, including Loki)
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Flufftober - Day 25
25 - Cuddling & Snuggling
Pairing: Loki x gn!reader
Word count: 500
Written for @flufftober2021 's event.
A/N: the drabbles are where I actually do the fluff, because it gives me no time to turn it into angst. So, everytime you read the word count below 800, that means it's pure fluff.
"Mmmhh, baby…", murmured Loki with his eyes closed shut, nuzzling his nose on the crook of his neck. His eyelashes gave you tingles and you laughed softly. "Baby, don't go", he pleaded, still with a foot on his dreams and the other one in reality.
You caressed his hair. When he called you baby you knew he was on another cloud, far away from you. You observed him, his eyes fluttering from time to time, reacting to the soft light that came from closed curtains. His whole body weighs on you, his face resting on your chest and surrounding your waist with his arms like a cocoon.
The alarm went off again, and before you could even take it and turn it off yourself, Loki flicked his wrist and the phone disappeared completely.
"Hey!", you laughed. "Loki, where did it go, love? I'm gonna need that…", you said, and kissed his temple. "For you to text me when I'm at work".
Loki lowered himself on you, and nuzzled his face on your stomach, kissing all the way down and using you as a pillow. His hands grabbed you gently by the hips, thumbs drawing slow circles.
"Mmh, no, I don't think… you'll need that, baby", he murmured against your skin.
"Well, you can't go to work today…", he sighed out. "I'm very ill".
"Oh, love. Where does it hurt?", you asked with a teasing smile, knowing he was far from sick.
"Here, just right here", he said, without explaining where. You turned around in bed and his back was now in the mattress, but you were still trapped in his arms.
"Here?", you kissed his hand. He denied with his head. "Here?", you kissed his wrist. He denied again. "Here?", you traveled all the way up from his arm to his lips. He smiled tenderly, his eyes still irremediably closed.
"I have to go, my love. They're waiting for me", you explained in a whisper. He tightened his grip, hugging you tenderly, and then let go.
"Alright, baby. Come back soon", he asked. You weren't getting up yet.
"Be very safe".
"Don't overwork yourself".
"Won't at all".
"You're not getting up, love".
"Well…", you said, sinking in his arms again. "I have to make sure you're not really sick, you know?".
"Ah… I see… which would be your best approach?", he smiled.
"A triple dose of kisses, to begin with. That'll take me a little while, though".
"Oh, we have all the time in the world".
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One and the Same
Some Loki tickle fluff
Word Count: ~4700
Pairing: Loki x gender neutral reader (platonic)
CW: Mentions of violence, mild swearing
This was based on a prompt where a lovely anon asked from some lee!Loki. I altered it to be switch!Loki, and I figured the easiest way for the reader to overpower Loki would be to make them also Loki. Hence, TVA-themed tickle fluff ensues !!
Arms folded, eyes narrowed, tongue against the inside of your cheek, you scoffed at the mere thought that this man sitting across the table was in any way, shape, or form… you.
This had to be a cruel joke. You should know - you were the expert at cruel jokes. But it didn’t make sense how this could happen. How elaborate of a ruse this was. It was too elaborate.
You’d been in chains, on your way to the dungeons of Asgard to await trial before Odin, recently defeated by your brother and Midgard’s vigilante crew. Spotting a weak point in a guard’s stance, you quickly turned the tables and freed yourself of their hold, their chains, and made a break for an exit. As soon as you’d lost them, you rounded a corner to be met with some very peculiar looking… mortals? They dressed somewhat like Midgardians. They exited magical orange doors, they held sticks that sparked menacingly on one end. They somehow overpowered you.
The mere memory was embarrassing.
The next thing you knew, you were forced into a horrid jumpsuit and standing before a woman who dared to deem herself worthy of judging you. She sat in a position of power, of presumed knowledge, but, by the gods, if she really knew anything she’d be begging for your mercy instead of speaking down to you with such audacity.
“How do you plead?” She folded her hands and pursed her lips with an exasperating air of superiority.
“How do I plead?” You scoffed. “You do understand who I am, do you not?”
“I think I understand.”
The voice from behind you turned your head to see a silver-haired moustached man sitting three or four rows from the front of the courtroom. He was, in fact, the only observer besides the guards. “Permission to approach the bench?” He stood and gave an innocent, friendly look to the judge. His demeanour and his tone of voice, coupled with the way he approached the large wooden bench without waiting for confirmation, told you he did not care much for formalities.
The judge sighed and allowed him close for a hushed conversation. “I gave you one two days ago!” She whispered loudly. Your brow furrowed as you tried to pick up pieces of their conversation.
“We lost another squad of Minutemen just a few hours ago and I’ve got a pretty good handle on the one I’ve got. Come on, Ravonna. Surely you’d agree two heads are better than one?”
“We’re not talking about heads, we’re talking about Lokis,” she hissed, shooting a wary glare to where you stood. “I was under the impression you needed that specific Variant.”
The moustached man chuckled and looked up at her earnestly. “The more the merrier-”
“No, Mobius.” She shook her head.
“Come on, just one more,” he urged softy, and you saw her resolve begin to weaken. “They step out of line, I’ll prune ‘em myself,” he promised. You may have found his gentle smile comforting if you hadn’t picked up that pruning meant certain death.
Perhaps those two… beings were romantically involved. Perhaps he had some kind of information on her, because the stern-looking “judge” ultimately relinquished custody of you to this Mobius character, despite looking quite displeased at the very notion of doing so.
“We need your help,” Mobius explained as you followed him down a hallway and you caught glimpses of a cutting-edge city scape, the elaborate paths which their floating vehicles travelled between strangely shaped buildings with curved edges and a retro tint.
“Of course you do,” you agreed, stopping to stand beside him as he waited by a door guarded by two uniformed women. “With what, exactly?”
He answered with a nod to one of the guards, who nodded back and opened the door to a large interrogation room. A table stood resolute in the middle. At that table, a man. Even sitting down, his long limbs gave away his towering height. The way the light struck his face as he turned to glower at you two in the door betrayed his sharp features and the way his eyebrows were lowered to match his sneer.
“Took you long enough,” he huffed to Mobius. “Is that your brilliant plan? Bore me into compliance?”
Mobius merely smiled. “Loki, meet… yourself,” he said as he led you into the room. You pulled your upper arm from his grasp and huffed, turning your attention to the tall dark-haired man sitting at the table in the centre of the room. He wore a jumpsuit like yours, and a look of sceptical distaste - also like yours.
“You must have me mistaken,” you stood up straight and pointed at the man. “There‘s no way this… this gargantuan being is me, I mean,” you scoffed, eyeing him up and down. “Look at him.”
The man also scoffed and held a palm out to you, smiling playfully at the Agent. “Very funny, Mobius, ha-ha. Quite enjoyable. Perhaps a more convincing ruse next time?”
Mobius’ sly smile widened. “You two are proving my point so perfectly.” He thumbed through some files in his hands as you and the man looked at him incredulously. Mobius looked up and gestured with his hand, a lazy wave for you to keep speaking. “Oh no, please do continue. Every bit of watching you interact may be useful in understanding how your Variant will respond to seeing one or both of you in the field.”
You both spoke and scoffed at the same time, then shot each other a simultaneous glare. Mobius chuckled.
“Oh, now this is too good. Seriously.” He lowered his voice to an excited whisper. “You know, we’re not supposed to have two variants in the same place, but I don’t get it. This is pretty fun, if you ask me.”
A sudden sharp knock at the door turned all three heads in the room.
“Mobius,” a tall woman with dark skin wore a solemn look. One that Mobius adopted all too easily. Something had happened. “Another attack. In 1863.”
“Let me guess. America?”
“This Variant loves their wars,” the breathless hunter ducked her head in concession. “We need to move out.”
Mobius approached you and slotted a key into the collar around your neck, removing it in what you assumed to be a gesture of good will.
“Alright, you two behave,” Mobius turned tail and rushed towards the door. “I’d say get to know each other but, you know…” he smiled to himself, clearly very amused with his own wit.
“Mobius!” The man at the table stood with clenched fists, but the agent had shut and locked the door with you two inside. The tall dark-haired man slammed his hands on the table and sat back down, refusing to look at you. Rolling your eyes, you decided to take the seat opposite; if you’d be stuck in here with him, perhaps you could have some fun antagonising him. Sure, you looked small, but you had the strength of your frost giant blood coursing through your veins. If he wanted a fight, he’d probably severely underestimate you. Anything to quench the boredom. ”Who’re you?” He demanded, looking you dead in the eye as you settled into back into your seat, crossing your feet up on one side of the table.
“Who are you?” You countered.
“I am Loki, of Asgard,” he said with a semblance of authority. As if it should instil fear in you.
You chuckled. “Let me guess, your brother is Thor, your adoptive parents Frigga and Odin. Oh, you’re probably the God of Mischief too!” You laughed, rolling your eyes again.
He set his jaw and grunted. “Yes.”
You stopped laughing and gave him a look. “Drop the charade. There’s no way in the Nine Realms you’re fooling me into believing you are a variant of me.”
“I beg your pardon?!”
“Look at you, you’re gigantic.”
“I’m a frost giant.”
“So am I!”
“Perhaps you’re just more of a runt,” he drawled. “With your size I doubt Laufey wouldn’t have killed you on sight, rather than simply cast you out. He’d probably accuse his Queen of an affair with a Dwarven race,” he spat venomously.
“Ah,” you clicked your tongue and settled your folded arms. “You are well-researched, aren’t you? It won’t work. I’m not telling you anything,” you sniffed with a shrug.
“I do believe is it you who must prove to me that you are, in fact, a Loki.”
“You’ve yet to prove it to me,” you countered. Then, simultaneously, you both sighed. That prompted you to eye each other warily.
He sat up a little straighter and eyed you. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, we’re both Lokis.”
“Ugh,” you wretched.
“Lovely,” he sneered. “In order to prove it, we’d have to use knowledge only a Loki would know. No historical event-”
“No family tree-”
“No recounting of mischief or something I’ve owned.”
“Or anything I’ve said.”
He narrowed his eyes further. “We clearly have very different bodies, so how could we be-”
“Men or women?”
He paused and smirked. “A bit of both. But one glance at history would tell a TVA Agent that.”
You sighed in agreement. “Do you find it hard to sleep with the lights on?”
“Yes. Do your ears itch when it’s cold?”
“Most of the time. Your left hip,” you pointed. “Does it click in the mornings.”
“When I’m tired,” he confirmed, perfectly passing your test. “Which is the stiffer side of your neck?”
“The left,” you said, horrified to slowly be coming to terms with the potential fact that this man really was you. You still couldn’t be sure. “Firm or soft pillows?”
He smirked. “One of each.”
“Damn you,” you slapped the table. “I still don’t believe it,” you crossed your arms again and scowled.
He kept his smirk and leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps Mobius was telling the truth.”
“I refuse to believe that. Look at you. How can you sneak around with all that… mass? Hardly good for mischief.”
“Rude,” he frowned. Yet again, you rolled your eyes.
“I’ll need something conclusive,” you raised your nose, crossing your arms tighter across your chest. “Since you seem to have fallen for his tricks. Tell me something only a Loki would know.”
“You make demands like a child,” he deadpanned.
“Rude,” you frowned. Then, you smirked. “Can’t prove it, can you?”
He crossed his own arms and glanced to the side in thought. Slowly, a satisfied smile came to his lips.
“What?” You asked, not liking the look in his eye when he turned back to you.
“That one spot on your back… you know the one? The one that’s deathly ticklish.”
You scoffed. “There you have it. I’m not ticklish.”
The lie spilled from your lips, as it had several dozen times before, to save you from a potential impending attack. To save you from the embarrassment of people finding out perhaps you didn’t mind it as much as other people.
But, shit, if this man was you... he’d see right through it.
“Yes you are,” he grinned deviously, standing to his feet.
“Hey,” you uncrossed your feet and put them on the ground, instinctively cowering away as he towered above you across the table.
“Not only that,” he chuckled at your nervous shuffling to your feet. “I’d wager a bet I know exactly the spots that make you scream.”
“W-well, then I know your spots too!” You scrambled to your feet and got to the other side of the table, making sure to be dead-centred on the other side to him.
“There’s no magic in here, runt,” he snickered. “Good luck fighting me off.”
“Piss off!” You growled, dodging the other way as he tried to round the table towards you.
“Oh, but you wanted me to prove it to you,” he taunted, slamming his hands down on the table, making you flinch. He lowered his head down in a predatory glare. “Now... come here and submit like a good little Variant.”
“No!” You dodged him again, then stepped away from the table as he leaned over it to make a grab for you.
“Come now,” he teased in a low growl. “Let’s not make this harder than it needs to BE!” With that last word, he vaulted over the table to bear down on you. You yelped and ran the other way, but he caught you around the upper arm before you could do much in the way of escaping. You twisted and escaped his grasp, forward-rolling beside his leg to run to the other side of the room.
His loud footsteps came up your six and you turned, knocking his grasping fingers away with your forearm against his. Then again, knocking his other arm away. You tried kicking at his stomach, but he caught your foot in his hand and gave it a rough pull, sending you off-balance and forwards into his arms. You struggled and grappled with him for several seconds as he pulled you down to the ground and you tried to squirm out of his grasp.
“PISS OFF!” You yelled as he flipped you harshly onto your front, sat himself down on your hips, gathering your swatting wrists, and then pinned them against your back with one of his own.
“Now,” he huffed, catching his breath from the exertion of the struggle. “Let’s see if you’re truly me.” His voice had turned low, mischievous, dangerous. You grimaced, knowing exactly how much mercy you’d show if you were in his position. You struggled and strained, but then flinched when you felt his fingers glide down from your shoulder blade and stop at a place halfway down your back, halfway between your spine and your side, on a very sensitive part of the musculature of the back of your torso.
Your eyes widened, and you realised he was, without a doubt, you.
He dug his fingers into the spot and you exploded into spluttering laughter, kicking your feet against the ground behind you as you laughed and squealed against the linoleum floor. “NAHANO! NO!” You shook your head and pulled on your wrists as he drilled and massaged little circles around the spot, sending ticklish shockwaves pulsing throughout your back.
“Hmm, maybe you are me,” Loki taunted. You could hear the grin on his lips. “Best to make sure though, wouldn’t you agree?”
“YOUHOU SON OF A -AHA NO!” You shrieked when his slipped his fingers down to the side, squeezing at your lowest ribs before scratching his fingers up and down the very sides of your ribcage. You gasped for air before laughing even harder, slamming your feet against the ground as he pressed his fingers further under, digging at the spaces towards the front of your middle ribs. A scream escaped you as you fought to tear your wrists from his grasp, but he had mass and gravity on his side. He paused his movements and retracted his hand from underneath you, allowing you to catch your breath.
If he was you, you knew he’d have a weak point in his hold. You twisted your wrists in his hands and ripped them free before using all of your inherent frost-giant strength to turn yourself over underneath him and shoot your hands out to squeeze at his hips. He gave a surprised laugh and buckled forward, grabbing your wrists. His strength may outweigh yours due to his size, but you’d already begun weakening him with your ticklish pulses as his hipbones.
“Two can play at this game, fake Loki!” You taunted as laughter bubbled over from his chest, and he turned to pull himself away. When he realised he couldn’t stand up from his laughter, he let himself fall forward to smother you. “OOF!” Half the wind left your lungs but you quickly recovered, wrapping your arms around to dig all ten fingers into that horrifically ticklish spot on his back.
“Yohou CREHETIN!” He laughed helplessly, still somewhat crushing you with his full weight. He shook and jolted with laughter and slammed his hands down next to your head, lifting himself to hover over you so you couldn’t reach that spot anymore. Though, the second he gave you a menacing glare, your hands were in his armpits. He spluttered and yelped with laughter before falling on top of you once again, this time knocking more air from your lungs and your hands from their place of attack.
“Ohow!” You whined, wincing and going a bit still as Loki recovered from his laughter. “Ahare you quite done?” You pushed against his shoulder which was holding some pressure against your clavicle, then freezing when you heard his deep malicious chuckle boom through his chest and vibrate against yours. He slid a hand over and gripped your jaw, turning it to the side. “N-no,” your voice a hoarse whisper, your eyes going wide. “Y-you wouldn’t.” You started struggling, trying to pull your face from his grasp as he shifted his other shoulder, propping himself up on his elbow, creeping his fingers your neck. “No. No, no, NO! I’d never do this to myself!!” You squeaked and tried to fight harder but you were weakening by the second from how flustered you felt.
“Given how hard you’re fighting,” Loki clicked his tongue and shifted his hand, pressing your cheek into the floor, “I’d say I’m pretty confident we’re one and the same.”
His fingers met your neck, flitting and fluttering over the skin as you descended into high-pitched squealing laughter. You’d have tried to fight back, to target his weak points, but you’d lost control of your limbs the second he’d swiped his fingers at the sensitive skin under your ear. You squeaked and twitched beneath him, only the smallest sounds escaping you - your hearty laughter was trapped in your chest. You managed to burst out into some loud shrieking when he scratched his blunt nails under your jawline and down to the space where your neck became your shoulders. You’d have begged him to stop, but you couldn’t form the words, and you knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d had his fun.
Finally, all that built up laughter escaped you in a mighty screech when he backed off enough to let you breathe. He flinched and turned his head away at the piercing noise. “Little banshee,” he huffed, then retracted his fingers and released your jaw. You turned and glowered up at him before manoeuvring your knee to hit against his godhood. “Gods,” he gasped out and went limp, and you shoved him off to the side before scrambling down to wrap yourself around his legs while he was preoccupied with the pain.
You growled a chuckle as he gave you a pained look and saw you weaving yourself around his lower-half, locking his thighs with your calves. “Your turn.”
Wrapping an elbow firmly around his calves to hold them back, you kept your head out of range of his feet as you lightly scribbled your fingertips against the backs of his knees.
“H-HEHEY!” He laughed out and thrashed, still recovering from your hit. “YOU DIRTY LIHITTLE- HEY!” He yelled out and then fell into more laughter than pain, writhing under your touch. You laughed victoriously, evilly, as you fluttered your fingers at the fabric behind his knees, tickling at the delightfully sensitive skin that lay beneath. With all the strength in you, you flipped your locked bodies to force his front down to the floor, you underneath his legs, clinging to them as he sought to kick out at you. “I-HI WILL GUHUT YOU LI-”
“Like a fish, I know,” you smirked, slipping your hand around to squeeze at the muscle above his kneecap. “Have you ever had an original thought in your life, or are all your threats lower-grade versions of mine?” You squeezed a steady pulse at his knee and his fist slammed against the ground, legs fighting to break free from your encasement. His laughter became more desperate, more frustrated as you tried your hand at a new technique. Instead of pulsing in and out, you dug your fingers deep into his leg and rotated the tips in little frantic circles. Loki yelled out and choked a laugh before his laughter became near-silent. He slammed another fist on the ground and you felt his body weaken. Perhaps now would be a good time to target his neck. Return the favour.
Sensing his need for air, you stopped your harsher torture in favour of making him giggle with tiny pokes to the back of his thigh. He twitched and snivelled as he caught his breath, propping himself up on his elbows to turn and glower at you maniacally. “Ohoho… you are in trouble, Variant,” he spat. “Everything you do to me, I will reign down tenfold on- s-stop it!”
You’d raised your eyebrow at him and started wiggling your fingers into those same spaces behind his knee. He gave you a warning glare, you gave him a cheeky smirk. Loki snarled and shoved his hands into the ground, flipping himself back onto his front and sitting up. You gasped and tried to unwind yourself from his legs, but he reached down and snatched you up by your waist, snaking his arms around your torso before forcing you to sit up with your back flush against his chest. You struggled and slapped at his arms, then took the chance to reach up and grab at his hair. As soon as you lifted your arms, his fingers shot up to dig into your armpits.
You giggled hard and clamped your arms down, arching your back against his digging and wiggling. But, you soon learned, it was all a distraction to weaken you, to distract you from his true intentions to enact the revenge you’d so foolishly supplied him with. He pulled you down as he pressed his back to the floor, then rolled to pin you under him, digging his fingers deeper into the soft space beneath your arms. He snickered at your shrieking giggles and blew some air against your neck, causing you to squeak and twitch, before he removed his hands and got to his knees where he was once again straddling your waist. This time, he turned in a swift motion to be facing the other way, reached down and wrapped his large palms around the backs of your knees to rest his thumbs and middle fingers on the pressure points above your kneecaps.
You gasped. “W-wait! You already got a bad spot of mine!” You squeaked, trying to prop yourself up to turn around. Looking at him as best you could, you saw yourself in his eyes. You understood that air of mischief, that delight in the playfulness, that mutual understanding that this whole thing was fun, and completely in your natures. You winced, trying to peek at where his body shielded your knees from his view, then groaned and placed your head back down on your hands. He laughed, clicked his tongue, then attacked.
On a silver platter, you’d handed him an ultimate pressure point. Not bothering with a standard squeezing of the leg, Loki went straight for your technique and pressed his fingers in deep before wiggling and vibrating them against the weak points in the muscles. You screamed out with laughter and pounded your fists against the ground for Freyja knows how long, your hoarse laughter soon turning to breathless squeals as he made your tactics even worse by targeting one leg at a time, kneading the muscles and fluttering at the skin behind your knee. Just as you thought he may be relenting, he swapped to the other leg and started all over again. He squeezed and prodded without relent, never letting a particularly violent thrash go unnoticed. If you’d scream out when he did something on one knee, he’d chuckle and then test it on the other. More often than not, it was a mirror-imaged death spot.
Tears of mirth brimmed in your eyes as he tickled you senseless, shouting taunts over his shoulder. Every so often he’d stop for a few moments, turn to you and say something like, “Oh dear, did you think it was over?” or “You’re not getting off so easy, little runt,” before he’d have you screeching with laughter again mere seconds later.
Just as you were beginning to wonder how much more you could take, the door to the room slid open and several Minutemen ran in with Mobius in the lead. His expression turned from a reigned-in worry to one of endeared scolding as he told Loki to get off you. After a final few particularly deep kneads of his fingers, and shockingly ticklish swipes at the backs of your legs, Loki relented and stepped off your body.
You lay limp on the floor, several tear tracks running down your cheeks as you gulped breath into your lungs and coughed out residual laughs. After a final few coughs, you slumped down once again and pressed your cheek to the floor with your eyes closed.
“So dramatic,” Loki scoffed as he nudged you with the toe of his shoe. “I barely touched you.”
“Liar,” you mumbled, allowing the Minutemen to pull you to your feet. One of them shined a flashlight into your eye to test if you were responsive. Loki scoffed again and folded his arms as they determined you were fine, just worn out, and they pushed you over to stand next to your fellow Variant.
“If you two can cooperate for long enough to listen to my offer, you might find each other to be a more useful friend than enemy, or… whatever that was,” Mobius nodded to the floor with his head and then turned to place a stack of files on the table. He turned back with a sigh, placing his hands on his hips as he gave you two an unreadable look. “Your variant attacked another squad of Minutemen. Stole their reset charges. If you help us catch the variant, there may be something in it for you.”
You and Loki looked at each other, then back at Mobius, who signalled for some administrative staff to wheel in several cartfuls of files. “An audience with the Timekeepers?” Loki asked, skepticism rife in his question.
“We’ll see,” Mobius gave him a meaningful look. “Depends on how useful you two are. Just here, guys,” he spoke to the staff, who left the carts by the table and then make a quick exit from the room. One of them, a shorter dark-haired man, gave Loki an adorably angry look before scurrying back around the corner.
“What’s all this?” You nodded to the files.
“The entire history of you,” he answered, then turned to four carts place to the side. “And these,” he walked over, “are the files on your Variants. One day we’ll need a Loki section of the library,” he sighed, pulling a file from the middle. “Perhaps you two can put your heads together and come up with something that’ll help us catch your variant. Earn yourself a little something in the process.”
He held out a file to each of you, raised his eyebrows in question, and waited for you to take the files as a signal of agreement. You held your breath, looked at Loki from the side of your eye, then bit your tongue and accepted the file at the exact same time as your taller variant.
“Great,” Mobius chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets and shaking his head with a wide smile. “This is just great.” He nodded once and then made his way towards the door. “I’ll be back after my lunch break. Try to get along until then.”
With that, the doors shut behind him and you were alone with Loki once more. He broke the silence by opening his file, and then so did you. You both walked to your original seats and sat, reading through the tales of your wayward variant.
The occasional chuckle left you both, and you’d sometimes interrupt the other to recount a particularly impressive escape or scheme. Proud of your variant self, it filled your heart with pride to see that another version of you was so intelligent and quick-thinking. Stealing a glance over at Loki, you smiled to yourself, strangely comforted despite being trapped in a Twilight Zone that you hadn’t quite figured out how to escape. If these files were any reassurance, you knew you’d figure it out eventually. So as your fellow variant laughed, you listened intently as he told you a story from his file, allowing a smile to come to your cheeks.
For the first time, being alone with yourself didn’t feel so lonely.
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fictober day 24 | “Is this supposed to impress me?”
summary | Loki would take you to the moon — he actually could do it — if it meant you’d hold his hand like that.
fandom | Marvel
pairing | Loki x Reader
warnings | none, fluff
word count | 365
author’s note | short but cute (as most of my blurbs this month, but I’m really proud of this)
🍁 fictober 2021 masterlist 🍁 Loki Laufeyson masterlist 🍁
You thought that Loki was exaggerating the compliments on the Asgardian sky. He kept telling you about the beautiful colours, the billions of stars perfectly spreaded out above, how it was breathtaking especially during night. In your defense Earth had a lot of those too.
Different beautiful shades of purple, pink and orange at sunset, a lot of stars you could see when you’re far from the city… just usual things that you loved observing each day.
But once Loki brought you to Asgard you saw that every single word he used to describe it was simply not enough. You should’ve known a place like that would have one of the most beautiful skies, the most vibrant and breathtaking colours and the hugest amount of stars — you didn’t dare to even try to stipulate a number.
Laying at the grass of the gardens side by side in that comfortable silence was just the perfect moment. It was everything you could ask for, not because of the beauty above you but because of the company. A very good one.
“Cool.” With all your wit and eloquence all you could whisper at the sight was that.
Loki didn’t hear that, he was too busy looking at your shiny eyes and how — if he was one inclined to say such sappy things — he’d say that they were more beautiful than all those stars you were looking at. He kept that to himself, blushing a little at the thought.
The decision to tease him came faster than you expected. You felt him looking at you, you’re happy he did it but the moment needed something more.
“Is this supposed to impress me?” You quirked an eyebrow turning your head to look at him by your side.
Loki was at a loss of words for the first time you’ve met him. He opened his mouth and closed so many times trying to find something to say you giggled a bit after saying one last thing.
“Well, you did a great job.” You said with a huge smile, hands finding his and holding it carefully as if the gesture was nothing.
But it was everything Loki could think of asking for.
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A Month to Remember: A Flufftober Series
Day 24: Caught in the Rain
Pairing: Loki x reader
Series Summary: When you’re sure your adoptive fathers, Steve and Bucky, and the rest of the team wouldn’t approve of your new relationship with Loki, the two of you decide to keep it a secret. But how long can the charade last before everyone finds out?
Chapter Warnings: none
A/N: The prompt list is from @flufftober2021! Enjoy :)
Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorloki @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163 @lokislittlesigyn @wolfish-trickster @electroma89 @jgun2001 @toe-vind-ek-jou @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @theaudacitytowrite @patches-of-mist @nicoistrying @geminiwolves @funnyexel @nectav @50svibes @dryyoursaltyoceantears @bison-writes @magicandheaven @keepingitlokiii @captain-asguard @laufeyiison @lostgreekgod @essence-stealer @competitive-dust @i-reblog-fics-i-like @melinaflynn1982 @darkacademicfrom2021 @whatevenisthisxxxxx @funsized-mimi @tristansaurusrex @lokistoriesblog @fandoms4life-always @high-functioning-lokipath
Flufftober Tag List: @morality-the-hufflepuff @skullape-blog @keegansakura @the-simp-of-mischiefff @karuna11 @staygoldsquatchling02 @kakashizgirlfriend @pescadoavocado
(strikethrough means I can’t tag you; message/ask me to be added to a tag list)
🍁 Masterlist 🍁
It was raining again, though thankfully not a storm like last time. No, just an autumn shower. You pressed your hand to the window pane, shuddering at the cold air permeating through it.
“Here you go, Muffin,” Steve said, handing you a mug of cocoa as he rejoined your side.
After feeling like you were at odds for him with a while now, this moment was nice. Admittedly, you were still a little perturbed by the fact he’d tried to set Loki up with someone, but you supposed you couldn’t blame him when he didn’t know the god was spoken for. Besides, what did it matter when Loki spun the situation to be able to take you out for a romantic dinner.
“Thank you, pops.” You smiled, leaning your head against his, his arm circled you in a side hug. “Remember when we’d go out and play in the rain?”
He smiled around his mug as he took a swig of the scalding chocolaty liquid. “I do. You’d love to splash in the puddles and totally soak yourself,” he chuckled at the memory. “Your dad was always terrified you’d catch cold, so when you were done, I’d towel you off and wrap you up in a blanket.”
“And then we’d have cocoa in front of the fire, all three of us,” you recalled, smiling down at your mug. “Do you want to do it again?”
“Now?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, I mean I can dry myself off now,” you laughed. “But let’s go splash around out there!”
Steve smiled at the invitation, but it quickly turned into a grimace. “I’m so sorry, Muffin. I would really love nothing more, kiddo.”
“But I have a mission I need to get ready for. We’re shipping out in about five hours.”
“Oh. Oh, I understand.”
He checked his watch. “Maybe I could swing it if we just went out for a few minutes…”
“No. No that’s alright. Just make sure to get ready for your mission so you can get back safe. Then we can take a,” you chuckled, “rain check.”
The man sighed as you hugged him. He kissed the top of your head, ruffling your hair. “Thanks, Muffin. We’ll do it sometime soon, I promise. I love you.”
“And I love you, pops. We’ll find time.”
He vowed to himself he most certainly would make time. But there was one other thing lingering in his mind about the memory. It hadn’t happened at the Tower. No, when you were very young, your little family had lived in a house just outside the city. What he wouldn’t do to go back to those days?
Well, maybe he couldn’t go back, exactly, but maybe there was something to living in a house like that. Maybe there was a way to sort of recreate those days. Suddenly, the wheels in his head started spinning. He was beginning to form a plan again…
Loki looked at his little mortal, wrapped on his arms. They looked forlorn, or maybe just nostalgic. Maybe both. Either way, he couldn’t focus on his book, knowing they weren’t happy.
“Darling love,” he whispered, causing you to look up from your own novel. “Are you alright?”
You nodded, marking the place in your book before finding his concerned eyes. “It’s just… the rain.”
“I thought you liked rain,” Loki puzzled. Thunder was a different story, but he hadn’t heard anything.
“I do,” you sighed, trying to figure out how best to explain. “See, my dad and I used to go out and play in the rain but he couldn’t do it today because he had a mission even though I invited him and I said it was fine because it is because it’s an important job and we said we’d do it sometime but I’m still sad for me,” you said all in one rambling breath. Then you added in a mumble, “And I guess I still want to go out but would feel stupid to do it by myself.”
“Would you like me to accompany you?”
You did, but you’d hate for him to feel obligated to. “Only if you don’t mind.”
“As if I could not positively love every little thing we do.”
Your eyes lit up. “Ok then! Let’s go!”
After quickly tugging shoes on and a finding jacket to fight the chill, you and Loki were outside, whooping as you danced in the rain. You took a large hop right into a puddle, soaking Loki through. He playfully took you by your waist and, lifting you, spun you around in the air. When he set you back down, you turned to face him.
“Thank you, Loki.”
“It is my pleasure, my darling. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And as you kissed, you didn’t notice the headlights cutting through the quickly falling drops, nor did you hear the window rolling down. It wasn’t until you heard the driver’s voice that you realized just what a predicament you were in.
“Pumpkin? Is that you?” Bucky asked, making you and your boyfriend leap apart.
“H-hi dad,” you stuttered.
“Sir,” Loki greeted with a respectful nod.
“I cannot believe you two,” he said with a disappointment-laced void, shaking his head. You hadn’t thought he’d take it this badly. Now you were really worried about Steve finding out. You braced for his next words. “Why in the world would you be out here in the pouring rain like this?! You’re going to get sick.”
You and Loki looked at him in shock. That wasn’t what you were expecting him to take issue with.
“Sorry?” you ventured.
“Head upstairs and dry off,” he sighed. “I’ll meet you there.”
That’s how you found yourself on the couch with your second mug of hot cocoa of the day, sitting a somewhat awkward amount away from your boyfriend. Not to mention your father was sitting opposite you, having turned up the thermostat and setting a fire in the fireplace.
“So,” you began.
“So?” Bucky replied.
“So…” Loki tried to pick up.
Then the room lapsed into silence, quiet except for small sips of warm cocoa and the flickering of flames.
“Listen,” Bucky finally broke the awkwardness. “You’re an adult. You’ll always be my cupcake and my pumpkin and my kid, but you’re an adult. And you’re not obligated to tell me anything. It hurts that you didn’t trust me, but you’re allowed to make your own decisions.”
You went over to where he sat across from you, giving him a big hug, and hiding your face against his chest. He held you back.
“Thank you, dad. I love you so, so much,” you swore. Then you looked him in the eye. “And I’m sorry; I didn’t want to hurt you. I was just worried how you’d react.”
“I understand.” Your father kissed your head. “And I forgive you. We’re all allowed to have our secrets, eh?”
“You’re amazing dad. Seriously. I, uh… Are you going to tell pops?”
He let out a long sigh, considering. “No. It’s not my place. But I don’t want to lie to him either. So I won’t tell him, but if he asks… Well I’ll try not to give it away but I can’t make any promises.”
“Ok. I understand that. Thank you.”
Loki cleared his throat, making his presence known again. “I promise I will never hurt them, sir. They are safe with me.”
“I know, Loki. And please, you can still call me Bucky,” he laughed. “To be honest, I’ve suspected for a while.”
“Well, Bucky,” Loki laughed, shaking the man’s hand, “you are quite perceptive.”
“See I’m like you, Loki. When it comes to them,” he said, looking at you again, “I would do anything.”
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Hi!! I love your writings!! If you're still taking requests for kinktober, could you do a combo of aphrodisiac + body worship with loki and female reader?
Like, the reader comes back to the compound after party intoxicated, and loki is the only one around to help, sort of scenario? Please? 🛐💚
Your Lips, feat. My Neck
Loki and pleasure mean the same thing to you, even if you say you can't stand the sight of him.
A/n: Thank you for this request lovely! I tweaked the scenario a little and this was so much fun to write!
Comments and reblogs are the little love notes you wrap around rocks and throw at my window. Send them in!!
Word Count: 4.5K
Warnings: Smut. Enemies to lovers sorta thing. A little delve into darkest desires because Loki is one. Lots of bad lanugage. Drinks and aphrodisiacs make appearances. Body worship and I worked slapping and spitting and pussy slapping into it too because I like em rough;-)
Kinktober: Day 15 Prompts: Body Worship + Darkest Desires + Loki
These heels would go straight into the trash bin after this evening. You staggered with unabashed lack of grace through the automated doors, throwing your bag in a heap on the first set of couches you found, frowning at the lack of lights awaiting for you in the compound.
Nobody's home. There goes your agenda of tossing a few beers with Nat and cursing at everybody and nobody and everything and nothing in particular.
You haphazardly slid some awry strands of hair away from your eyes, frowning when the sides of your fingers returned pooled in sweat. Did Stark have some electricity bill spike and decide to cut on the compound's air conditioning or were you close to a heat stroke?
You flopped sidewards on the couch, your heart doing a teensy drop when you felt you would crash your head at the edge of the glass table, but thankfully, your reflexes and elbows worked even when you were batshit intoxicated. Wouldn't it be great managing a set of kitten heels, a bleeding forehead, some out of control and count drinks and the cold, barren and bizarrely hot weather this room seemed to cohabitate in? - not necessary in that order, that is.
"And what, may I ask, are you doing this fine evening, little midgardian?"
Oh, someone Screw this midgardian referencing fucklet.
At Least you were not alone in the compound.
You looked up from your position, straining your eyes when the god of mischief- someone screw him to a wall and let him flex his cheekbones- had switched on the lights. Yellow lights? Orange? Oh- the other-than-ordinary god had used magic and conjured up a host of hanging candles all around you, illuminating the place with natural light. You surveyed the place, eyes resting on Loki who had his head tilted, lips curled in a resting smirk, his jade and gold flashing robes looking majestic in the teeming lights.
Fuck. Isn't it hot already?
You huffed, tearing your eyes away from the raven locks he had carefully combed back, hand rising to wipe the ocean pooling all over your forehead.
You had forgotten you were supporting yourself on the edge of the sofa. Your elbow was mushed into one of the pillows, your other arm hanging limp like a chicken, and of course, you had uprooted your support system to give yourself the relief of wiping sweat off your brow.
You couldn't say what was louder- the sound of your kneecaps cracking against the tiles or the engraged 'fuck this shit' that tore out of your lungs. Whatever it was, the exaggerated scoff from Loki was enough for you to whip your head up in burning anger, wishing you had something to brandish his way for just existing, and existing at the same time frame and place as you existed when he could be anywhere in the whole fucking galaxy, your mortification slowly rising in tidal waves as his eyebrows arched upwards, his lips following suit.
"A very foul tongue gracing a very pretty face." You were ready to commit arson. Or hope these tiles open to some secret chamber and deport you off to Narnia.
"I must say, your attachments to the floors seem very strong- or what is it that you mortals say?" Loki prodded, the thudding of his shoes reverberating the very meninges of your brain- yeah you know you sound drunk- an irritating smile finding its way in his words. "Gravity. It indeed, is working its charm on you, kitten."
You scowled, pushing the table away so you could get some leg space, the prick on your kneecaps dulling to a distant throb.
"Have you got nothing else to do today, Loki?"
"I'm afraid I don't. I'm here, visiting my brother, who happens to have a conflicting relationship with time and schedules." The footsteps halted, the zipping of a few flames tearing around you. You dug your hands to the floor, taking in a huge waft of the candle's scent, cursing Loki in your head as you wiped off the sweat dripping down from the clumps of your hair- thank fuck the AC is working now- before placing yourself on your knees.
You lifted your head up to find the cheekbones-carved-out-of-celestial-gold extraordinaire right in front of you, looking down at you with a look that radiated waves of condescension and arrogance. He also wasn't trying- not even a little bit- to hide the boner proudly raised up in his pants.
Son of a witch.
Despite your grumbles of the high temperature, a shiver involuntarily slathered through your body, leaving you sucking at the air around yourself, all of the alcohol dumping itself effects into your right at that moment.
This guy isn't real.
"I'm doing all of the talking here, so it makes sense that you're on your knees. You look rather ravishing there," he stopped, sweeping his gaze to the side in a manner which stole your breath away. "But I can think of ways you would look better."
You wished you had some air left in your lungs, enough so you could push him away and chug your heels at his perfectly smug face, the innuendo slapping you on the face in a way which had your thigh clench in hunger- Loki's objective.
"I've seen you, in this very state, one too many times to not know what you're thinking off, little kitten."
A ship which traded stolen drugs. The abandoned office with a host of files which you should have been checking but you were busy sucking off Loki's cock, licking at the tip and humming satisfiedly against the underside at his shattered moan before deepthroating him and gagging around his balls- the visual of him, a literal god, desperately chanting your name as you gave him pleasure, was too good for you to ever forget.
Loki's never going to let you forget it anyway.
You sucked in another deep breath, shivering and shoving aside the dirty thoughts clogging your rational sense as you tried your best to glare at the trickster. He remained unphased, smiling and something dark flashed in his eyes when you parted your thighs, reaching back to pull out the heels from under your ass.
Loki magicked them out of your feet in a flash.
"I hate you." You pouted, not so irritated anymore because of course, he gets you to that state where reason is the last in your list of priorities, your cunt aching in want and pricking fingertips at the top of your list.
"Doesn't stop you from giving me a warm welcome each time I'm here."
"Why are you here?"
"Studying. Midgardians indeed have some astonishing discoveries. I was testing if they work with some of mine, now that we have established a thorough communication between both planets-"
"How are even hard while talking about this?" You frowned at the hard on which was mercilessly denting his garments, his hard on tempting you to take him in your mouth and tease him to an inch of his patience again.
"That, my dear, has to do something with what's happening around this room."
You looked down at yourself. Your dress ridden up, feet bare, a lot of skin on display. Another bout of electricity travelled down your arms when the god steeled his gaze at you, poking his tongue out and swiping them over his lower lip, the bright pink begging of you to push him against some wall and make out with him.
You felt a little cooled off than before, your mind still dizzy and movements slow under the intoxication. And then there was Loki. Frost giant and all, he looked like he was going to blow into flames. He was sweating, his roots glistening with lines of perspiration, a drop of which strolled down the slope of his cheeks and pooled at the curve of his jawbone- a part of you wished that it was you instead. The same part which was weeped out and fluttering and clenching around emptiness in a way to tempt you.
You still hated this guy.
"Are you going to do something about it or do I have to take the reigns again?"
Something flashed in his eyes. His cheekbones which you adored so much deepened and turned more saturated, some of the candles dying down and the glows around him dimmed a little. Lust swirling in his irises, Loki leisurely sauntered to you, letting the sounds of his boots bounce off the wall and vibrate on your skin in a delicious punishment, his beautiful, beautiful hands coming to hover lightly over your elbows.
"The thing is, my little kitten." He rasped, his flamboyance settling in your bones when he invaded your personal space, towering over you in his glaring godly aura, your body practically pressed against his, the thumps of your heartbeat just as fast as his. "You're being very disobedient and mouthy. The only thing I want for today is to be gentle. Allow me to have it."
And just like that, all your resistances crumbled. You would blame it on the alcohol and the sharp spikes of pain left on your body by those killer heels, or the fall that had dislodged your brain, or the little candles this fucker had lit across the place.
You were dropping to your knees. Again.
"No no no-" Loki stopped you before you could entirely kneel, hoisting you up before slowly backing you towards ths sofa."I don't want you there, kitten."
He pushed your shoulders back, gently letting you fall on the sofa, placing his arms on the sofa head on both sides of your body, trapping you under him.
"You look too beautiful not to be worshipped today."
Loki leant down, inhaling a waft of your scent as you whimpered from the sudden proximity, from a man you claimed to actively hate yet who held an aura you couldn't help but chase, your fingers pins and needles as you grabbed fistfulls of his robes, pulling him down to kiss him for the first time in months.
It was the hottest kiss you had shared with him. Like everything about Loki, it carried a white hot vehemence, dripping in passion. His tongue slid into your mouth, licking against yours with a hunger you had missed, a desperation driving you to melt with each watery moan he was stealing right off your lips, his mouth sucking off the air right from your lungs.
You had never been kissed like that before. Loki had, once again, ruined everybody else's lips for you.
Why did it have to be the enemy who could make your mind spin and the world turn upside down with just a kiss?
You had to shake your head and remind yourself this was the guy who had hit you with some magic hoodoo so you could fall in love with him for an hour just to fuck with you. The day had ended with you two fucking, an hour of lovey-dovey makeouts followed by a night full of hate sex of the roughest kind, Loki's skin littered with scratch marks and bites and evidences of you on him by the end of it. Your voice was gone from screaming so much, your ass red and tender from his massive hands kneading and slapping for 'teasing him till his final tick of impatience.'
The same god who fucked you everytime he was here, the hate pumping through your veins for him making each of his thrusts more pleasurable, his commands more exciting to follow. You loved to submit to the god you hated, loved leaving yourself bare and open to a man who could exploit you- who did exploit you- armed with the right way of exploiting. Despite all the hate you had locked for Loki in your head, your body belonged to him, and you would let him do anything to you.
You also put shock chips under his chair for each denied orgasm, but that's a story for another time
You were too gone for. And too drunk. Your mind spun a little from the after effects of the alcohol, most of the tiny candles Loki had decorated around the compound burnt off. Your thighs clenched and your thong was embarrassingly drenched. The AC was working to its full potential and the cold felt nice on your skin, but it barely satiated the heat of desire you felt for the god at the moment.
The god of mischief was on his knees for you.
You wanted him so bad.
"I want to be the one to take care of you," Loki whispered, pupils blown put in lust, words breathy. He pressed a kiss on your calf, sucking in a sharp breath, lining kisses down your leg softly, his large hands coming up to rub the sides of your things. "Will you allow me to do that, m'lady?"
How can you say no to that voice? That velvety texture hummed over your skin, Loki's eyes locked hungrily on your nipples which were hardened and pressing out of your flimsy dress, your hands moving up to slide into his tresses.
Testing the course of this evening, you tugged at his hair, pulling it backwards and attempting to guide him towards your pussy, your thighs spreading open.
Loki obliged. Slowly pushing the hemline of your dress upwards, he angled his nose down down, running the tip along the curve of your thigh, and kissing at the tiny dip just inches to where you needed him the most, before grinning at you cockily.
He pushed your hands away from his hair, placing them on the sofa before he lifted your dress higher up, allowing you to open your legs fully.
"My dear, when I say I wish to take care of you, it means you lay back and sing for me."
And just like that, he had you wrapped around his fingers, toying with the strings of your thong as you laid back and relaxed against the pillows, your knuckles clenched around the incase you topped off.
He pulled off the strings one by one, his erratic breath fluttering on the insides of your thigh, his huge fingers tracing their courses over your calves. His lips pressed over the dampness nestled over your crotch, your body jumping up in shock when he did it once, twice.
When Loki tore himself off of you, you cried out, hands shooting out to pull him back.
Two strong- huge- wrists wrapped around yours, a condescending sneer sent your way. "What is it, little girl? Don't you wish to be good for me?"
He was too enchanting for his own good. Alcohol sweeping through your veins, mind foggy and body desperate for release, the arrogance from Loki's words and actions just played catalyst in your dismantling, your defiance and restraint crumbling at once under his hold, the need to be good for him and give him pleasure and let him play with you ingraining itself into your head.
Didn't helped that Loki looked like he was struggling to keep his hands away from you. His fingers shook each time he had to pull away from your skin, his lips glistening and a bright pink from being dented by his teeth and having his tongue raved over it. He wanted you real bad.
"Let me have a taste."
Loki pulled your panties off, your wetness collecting to it in a sticky trail which he pooled over his fingers, ripping the article off of you. The cold around the room hit you all at once, the shiver breaking into a ragged convulsion when the god smeared your wetness over your clit, your moan tearing through the place.
Thank fuck there was nobody around. The mischief god dived his head into your weeping cunt, inhaling a waft of your scent and groaning before he placed the flat of his tongue directly over your hole, licking a stripe past your lips up to your clit. Your knees jerked up at the sensuality, before he was plunging his tongue into your hole, licking and sucking and drinking up your juices.
You held onto the sofa seats, your back arching as Loki licked up your clit, his hands coursing all through your legs, teasing, touching. Leaving you stretching out for more as he devoured your pussy, slurping and making the noises of a man starved as he drank up everything you had to offer, bobbing his head up and down and groaning as you clenched around him.
"Sweetest fruit I have tasted," he muttered, barely looking up as you whined and moaned, lost in his addiction to you and your taste. "Good girl," he panted, words wispy and breaths quick, like he couldn't afford stopping. "Does it feel good?"
He sucked at your clit, finally allowing his fingers to ghost over your glistening core, the cold touch eliciting another choked moan from you as your knees jerked up and wrapped around his head, a choked "yesyesyes please" shooting out of your lips.
You felt him smile against your clit, the tops of his fingers circling over your pussy lips and slowly sliding down your folds. Your back arched up, your hands flying out and tugging at his hair to pull his face up. You almost cried when you saw him, eyes blown out and your wetness smeared all over his face. Without thinking you pulled him towards you in a rushed kiss, slotting your lips against his. You whimpered when he dived his tongue into your mouth, his fingers stretching your pussy right at the same moment, everything a little much, too slow and too fast, too much and too less for you to handle.
Something told you would be passing out by the end of this.
He fingered you through the kiss, catching your bottom hip between his teeth and lolling them with his tongue. Loki pulled at your plushy lower lips, licking into your mouth desperately before pulling his teeth back with a plop, letting your lip snap back in place. And repeat. Each kiss more feverish than the one before. All while his thumb leisured through your folds, two fingers diving into your cunt, stretching out the walls in a pace way more languid and easy compared to his frantic kisses, his mouth swallowing each whimper right off your lips.
The first orgasm hit you like a fucking truck. Your back arched upwards, your teeth clamping on Loki's lips as his fingers massaged your walls, his thumb assaulting your clit and his other hand caressing the insides of your shaking things. You wailed out as you trembled and your pussy clenched around his fingers, Loki eyes darkening with lust as you panted and moaned under him, lips seeking for yours.
He placed his hands behind your knees and lifted your further upwards, splitting your legs open now that your dress had ridden up to your waist. Holding you all spread open and vulnerable, he dived his tongue into your pussy, your body firing upwards at the sudden assault which came so quickly after your release.
Loki licked and moaned around you, holding your quivering legs open as your mouth parted in a slow pleasure, the aftershocks of your orgasm amplified by the testing licks and light kisses Loki stamped all over your core.
"I could stay here all day," he hummed against your marked up inner thigh, leaving one of your legs and bringing the top of his fingers to land against your pussy in a stinging slap.
You shrieked, cursing out in shocked arousal. Your head hit the headrest, your breasts jiggling and pussy clenching again as the burn of humiliation travelled through your body, Loki's proud sneer reducing you to a groaning, heaving mess.
He bit his lips, chuckling with a lazy smile before he was slapping your cunt again, and you swore to whoever could hear your thoughts that if Loki kept up, you would cum from this alone. And right when you were closing your eyes in the pleasure that you derived from the pain, he spat on your pussy.
You cursed and almost fell off of the sofa, his strong arms holding you in place. Loki came closer, softly catching your lips in his, once, twice, before he lifted you up again, laying you down along the length of the sofa.
He placed his knees on both sides of you, his dick pressing against his pants and still unattended to. As he worked at the chain running along the side of your dress, you lifted your hands, slowly brushing your knuckles against his bulge.
Loki hissed, his eyes flashing with something feral and you could see him push the urge back, focusing attention back on you. On your body. On sliding the little dress off your arms, dragging it down your waist and along your thighs, and throwing it in a crumb on the floor.
"No bra?" He chuckled," That makes you a very naughty girl. Do you do that to incite the mere boys you have running around your planet?"
How does his voice get deeper than velvet with each word? His hands hovered over the curve of your boobs, frustrating you in his endless tease.
"Many of those mere boys have kicked your ass before," you couldn't help shoot back, closing in on yourself when Loki's eyes snapped from your breasts back to yours, drilling into you. His jaw clenched, his cheekbones which you loved so much getting sharper as he neared your face, his fingers ghosting over your boobs and landing on the top of one. He glided it upwards, resting over your collarbones for a moment before curling around your throat, making his possession of you very clear.
"You make it so difficult to be patient with you." He chided, getting back to tracing a circle over your navel, his knuckles tracing maps over your stomach, hand still laced around your throat.
"Don't be," you tested, curling both hands around his wrist and staging an attempt to push it off your neck, failing when Loki's hands didn't move an inch. He dug his fingertips into the sides of your neck, squeezing your jugular which had you clenching around nothing, a breathless moan stuck in your throat.
"Do you recall what my intentions hold for this evening?" He prodded, leaving a lingering kiss at the side of your mouth, his fingers rubbing circles down the underside of your boobs, your nipples tightening and pussy wet in neglect.
"You wanted to take your time with me." You gritted out, chasing the touch which he offered to you in a bait to be good for him, only giving you bits and scraps of what you wanted. You wanted his cock in your mouth. You wanted his cock in your pussy too, his cum deep inside you.
"And am I not making you feel good, as I had promised?" He kissed the side of your shoulder, grazing the skin with his teeth before biting a bruise over it, humming satisfied at the result.
"Yes you are but at least let me touch you," losing all patience, you cuffed your hands around his, bringing his fingers to your mouth. You suckled on his fingers, eliciting a strangled gasp from him. Loki looked desperate for you, he looked feral, like someone who wouldn't stop if he once thrust into you. Yet he was taking his time, slowly turning you into a pliant, fluffy minded mess, so all you could think about was him and his cock.
Would it be a really had thing?
"Hmm, you wish to touch me, little girl?" He pressed his fungers down on your tongue, thumb pulling your lower lip and jaw downwards. He parted his fingers, looking down at your open mouth with a mind-exploding smirk before he spat into your mouth. Right between his fingers.
"Allow me to pull out two more orgasms. Two more," he gripped your jaw, pressing a kiss against your neck as you swallowed his spit, going downwards and sucking at the base of your neck. "And then you can have me all you want."
You knew this man got off on denial and what made this even more challenging was that you throve off of that look which washed over his face when he would cum in your mouth or inside you. It was a game at this point, both of you seeking out for the other, you could get the other to break and seek your pleasure from it.
His lips dusted up and down your neck, hands pulling your hair backwards to provide him more access to your neck, his lips and tongue marking you up just the way he had littered himself over your thighs, glaring marks of how he owned your body and played with it twinking back at him.
He sucked at your collarbones, your neck stinging from the trail of his tongue and the nick of his teeth at all tender places, your body a mess under his skilled fingers and sinful lips.
"Two more of them. I give you my word kitten, you can have me after that. Just let me make you feel good."
The next day you found yourself nestled against your favourite pillow. You were changed into your favourite tee shirt, a sheet covering your body. You stretched around, your mind occupied with thought sof Loki and the ride that was the night before.
You got out of bed, limping as your legs failed you, hoards of bruises and marks and hickeys glaring at you as you stumbled to the mirror, gasping at the artwork the trickster had created all over your neck and front.
You were going to kill that little shit the next time he dares to come around. You were grumbling out curses at him, wondering how would you find a way to hide this outrage from the team when you found something out of place in your room.
One of those candles which Loki had lit last night.
And a piece of paper with something sketched in colossal handwriting.
Loki had written you a letter?
You rolled your eyes at the visual, Loki writing this after cleaning you up, right after you had passed out after your fifth orgasm around his cock, his length jerking against your walls as he snapped his hips against your, hands pinning both of yours to the sofa. Great way to end the night.
And he had written what?
My dear kitten,
I hope this letter finds you well rested. An urgent appointment requires of me to leave, otherwise I wouldn't have considered leaving without letting you know about this. Doctor Banner had been experimenting with a rather remarkable mortal chemical, something which he refers to as an aphrodisiac. I borrowed some of it, with his permission of course, to experiment on a similar concept, which might work with gods. I am pleased to find out I worked it to near perfection, and I am leaving one of these for you to find out and possibly use when I come around the next time I come around. Till then, remember that you are always on my mind.
Your dearest enemy,
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Summary: After a long, tiring day, all you want is to snuggle your furry friend. But, is it really your cat?
Word count: 1171
Pairing: loki x fem!reader
Genre: fluff, enemies to lovers maybe?
Author’s note: Hi! This drabble is inspired by that time my cat wanted to snuggle and I was too caught up in Loki’s fanfics.
The day was finally over and, most likely the rest of the week, it has tired you up, leaving you with enough energy to have a shower and go straight to bed. You were new to the missions, it took Tony long to make the decision of letting you be part of them. You needed training first, that’s right. A young, bony witch who barely knew how to control her magic was of no use unless she was properly trained. And you thought the missions were going to be just like training with Cap, just a little bit more rough, blood included. But no, not only did it imply physical strength and resistance, but also a lot of mental strength.
But the day was over and you were finally back at the compound. If you were lucky enough, tomorrow you could have the day off to catch up on naps with your cat, Lilith.
How cliché, right? You, a witch, with her furry companion named after the black moon (or the Judeo-Christian mythology, whatever suits you best). Oh, and she’s black. You know, to cover the stereotype.
You quickly and tiredly greeted your colleagues who were having a chat in the kitchen. Sam didn’t hesitate to mention how tired and old you looked. You smiled at him politely and showed him your middle finger, he laughed and you continued to walk to your room. They were all really nice since you got there, they helped you settle in and with your training; you got really close to many of them. They liked you, and you liked them too. Well, almost all of them.
Loki was the exception. Not that you disliked him but he disliked you. Well, he disliked everyone in the compound. He despised being stuck there and could anyone blame him? No one showed him any kind words since he got there, they weren’t warm with him as they were with you. Alright, you didn’t try to take over New York, but still. He was, kind of, one of you all. He deserved some kindness.
And you tried to be kind, you really did, but he always shut you down and, eventually, it became really tiring to keep trying and listening to his spiteful comebacks.
Tony stopped you before getting the stairs. You cursed under your breath, all you wanted was a hot shower and to snuggle your cat.
“Hey, kid,” he said, gently squeezing your shoulder. “You did really well today but I need you to do better, I can’t keep getting you into missions if you don’t give me the best you have.” The tiny, grateful smile that he managed to put on your face disappeared instantly.
“Have you seen how I blasted those guys with my magic, Tony?” You replied, anger boiling in your chest. “I am giving you the best I can, I’m giving you more than that! I’m new to this, you know that, I’m trying my best everyday to be far more than the best version of myself” You almost yelled, you in fact were trying your best and it was a bit disappointing that he didn’t notice that.
“Okay, I’m just saying” he pulled his hand from you and put both in the air “but those are really bad guys and if you don’t become stronger, I’ll have to take you out until you are” and with that, he walked away.
Everyone in the compound heard your conversation, everyone including Loki. They all looked away when you met their gaze, everyone but Loki. You held your gaze for a few seconds, trying to calm yourself, trying to scare him off. It wasn’t successful, you got angrier and he didn’t even move.
Once in your room, you shut the door and screamed at the top of your lungs. You were tired, sleepy and now angry, very very angry. You had your shower, put on your pajamas and got into bed. You called for Lilith to come sleep with you but you couldn’t find her in the room. You heard some scratching in your door so you opened it with your magic, and in came Lilith meowing happily.
“Oh, Lilith dear,” you said “you’re the only one who truly loves me and appreciates me” the cat nudged your cheek with her head, you smiled “I’m tired of trying hard and no one noticing it, I’m tired of being so good and patient,” the cat purred and you stroke her chin. “Yeah, I guess Tony wants the best of me because he cares about me and doesn’t want me to be in danger” you said, mostly to yourself, but Lilith hissed in disagreement “what’s that for? Since when you don’t like Stark?” The cat looked away and you rolled your eyes. “And then, there’s Loki” the cat stretched her front legs to your cheek and purred while she massaged your face, you laughed. “I really tried to make him feel comfortable, being nice to him, you know? But I feel he doesn’t like me and maybe I should quit, he probably doesn’t care if I’m nice to him or not” the cat nudged your cheek again, “I know but I kinda like him, I’d really like to be friends with him, we could be magical buddies during missions and you know I’d like that” the cat purred, closing her eyes. “You’re right, let’s take a nap” and shortly after, you fell asleep.
You woke up abruptly when you heard a desperate meowing behind your door, you called for Lilith but she was right in your arms, still purring and cuddling with you. You raised your hand and with a quick move, the door flew open and an angry Lilith came running to you.
“Lilith? Then who’s…” when you looked down at your side, you found no other than Loki cuddling you.
“Hello, darling” he said cheekily, with a tiny smile on his sleepy face. You screamed and jumped out of bed, he sat and laughed at your overreaction. “I thought you said you wanted to be friends!”
“Not like this! Not with you shapeshifting into my cat to sleep with me!” You almost yelled, embarrassed at the situation.
“Oh, no, if I wanted to sleep with you, I’d show up as myself, believe me” he replied jokingly and you covered your face, it was too much.
“Get out, get out now!” You said, with Lilith in your hands while walking at the door.
“Okay, okay, but if you need some emotional support, just knock at my door” he said while standing in front of you, you covered your face again but he took your hand “and I don’t despise you, you’re probably the only one I like except from Thor” he confessed and you felt your heart race.
“Please, I’m too embarrassed for this, get out of my room” he laughed and nodded.
“We’ll catch up later, bye cat” he extended his arm and Lilith her paw, you looked at her and whispered.
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𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬, 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭!𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐈’𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧:
“I know that you saw me in your dreams”, he rasps, and the timbre of his voice, like molten darkness drowning your senses, sends another shiver skittering down your spine – not of fear, but something else you can’t quite pinpoint yet. With a calm in his voice opposing the tune of your heart hammering against your ribs, Loki adds, “Do you want to know how I know? Because I’ve seen you in my dreams, too.”
The silence which settles over the two of you as you let his words sink is so omnipotent that you’re sure he can hear the sound of your heart as it pounds against the confines of your ribs, as if ready to leap out of your throat any second.
When you don’t utter a word of reply, he asks quietly, “Are you scared of me?”
You should be, you know that. And yet…
“Do I have a reason to?”, you breathe, and it makes his dark chuckle rumble through the half-light of the confessional.
You hear him shift, and finally, his eyes lock on yours through the lattice parting the two of you. Eyes as blue as sapphires, framed by long, dark lashes that cast shadows across the sharp lines of his cheekbones.
“That depends entirely on whether you believe in Hell.”
𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭 ( 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰)! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬!🖤
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My Mind Forgets To Remind Me, You’re a Bad Idea
Loki x Reader
Summary: What happens when you let a stranger take you home?
Warning: unprotected sex, sex between strangers, degradation, branding, hand around neck (not choking),
A/n: This is my final post for my 1k celebration! This has been so, so fun!
The music is blaring in your ears.
The lights are blinding you.
The alcohol is clouding your judgement.
The hands around your waist have you falling... Falling hard.
"Come home with me," The stranger mutters, nipping at your ear. He'd been eyeing you from across the room all night, sending you drinks, before finally coming up and dancing with you.
His jet black hair matches his suit perfectly, drawing your attention even more. You can feel his cock hardening against your ass, thanks to your dress. It’s been a while since you’ve gone home with a stranger, but the way he’s holding you has you wondering why you’re not already on the way to his house.
You moan quietly as he presses a kiss to your neck, your eyes fluttering closed. “Hmm… How do I know it’s going to be worth my time?” You tease, turning around before he can answer.
The stranger smirks, eyeing you up and down. He almost looks offended, until you realize he’s quite intrigued. “Because,” He starts, his hands trailing down to your ass. “I’ve been watching you all night, studying you. Figuring out what you like, what you don’t like,” He mutters, his finger lightly trailing up your spine.
When he reaches your neck, he wraps his hand around the back of it, pulling your face closer to his. Your stomach practically explodes with lust, your lips parting. “I know you like being tossed around like you weigh nothing. I know you like it when a man puts you in your place,” He says, which makes you scoff.
He’s full of shit.
If he knew anything about you, he’d know you hate when men tell you what to do. You’re an independent woman, you don’t need anyone to tell you what to do. He’s wasting your time.
He tightens his grip on the back of your neck, a smile creeping across his face. “I’m gonna give you 5 minutes to say goodbye to your little friends. After that, you’re going to follow me to my car,” He orders, his voice dropping.
You gulp, your heart racing in your chest. His orders had your cunt clenching around nothing but air. You nod, wondering if he really was right. How did he know something about you that you didn't even know?
The man turns his back to you, swiftly walking to the front of the club, standing by the door. You frantically search for your friends, not wanting to find out what would happen if you took longer than 5 minutes. You finally see your friend, racing over to her.
"I'm leaving," You say, trying to catch your breath. You hope you don't look as fucked out as you feel, but you know you probably do. Your friend looks you up and down, a smile on her face.
"Leaving to do what?" She asks, smirking.
"To have the best sex of my life," You reply, turning around before she can say anything. You hear her laughing behind you, but you're not focused on that right now. You're focused on the way the man's eyes are locked onto yours as you push through the crowd, beckoning you to come to him.
"Excuse me... Move... Coming through," You mutter, elbowing your way through the crowd. When you finally reach the man, you look up at him, already feeling yourself submit. He stares down at you, glaring.
"Follow me," He orders, opening the door. You hurriedly follow him, your short legs no match for his long ones. You follow him through the parking lot, stopping when he reaches his car. "Get in," He says, opening his door.
You start to open the door, but your hand pulls back immediately. You can't get in the car with this man. You don't even know his name. What about all you'd learned about stranger danger?
"Wait, what's your name?"
He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. "You'll find out soon,"
The whole time on the way to your house, the stranger is stroking your thigh, completely ignoring the way your legs were clenching. He hadn't said a word to you, only sighing and clenching his jaw. Now that you're in your apartment, he has you backed against the door, his hands roaming your body.
"Spread those legs for me," He mutters, never pulling away from your lips. You do as he says, not wanting to get on his bad side. You feel his fingers working to pull your panties down your legs, stepping out of them when they're around your ankles. He kisses you again, blocking your view of what he does with your panties.
"P-please, touch me," You breathe out, desperate for attention. You need him, you don’t care about the consequences.
The man tuts, shaking his head. "You don't tell me what to do. I tell you what to do," He says, his hand grasping your shoulder. He pushes you down until your knees are touching your floor, eye-level at his crotch.
“Take me out,” He orders, motioning to the crotch of his pants. The hardwood floor is pressing against your knees, letting you know you’ll be sore tomorrow. You gulp, rubbing your hands over the growing bulge in his pants. You haven’t even seen his cock yet, but you just know it’s big.
If you’re gonna get ruined, might as well have fun with it, right?
You lean forward, staring up at him as your face moves closer. The man stares down at you, his chest heaving. You can tell he’s not used to waiting or not getting what he wants, and it spurs you on.
You stare at him while you stick your tongue out of your mouth, licking a stripe up his crotch, over his pants. The fabric leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but the way he reacts makes it worth it. The man chuckles darkly, his hands tangling in your hair.
He leans down so that his face is inches from yours, using your hair to pull your head back. “I tried to play nice, but you don’t like that, do you?” He asks, watching as you shake your head. Pure adrenaline is running through your body, your heart hammering in your chest.
“You wanna be treated like a little slut, don’t you? You love that you have no idea who I am,” He mutters, using his free hand to unzip his pants. You moan quietly as he tugs your hair, getting your attention.
“Answer me,” He orders.
You think over your response slowly and carefully, trying to piece together what kind of guy he is. Finally, you settle on a response. “Yes, sir,” You whisper, earning a groan from him.
He pulls his cock free, the sheer size of it sending a shiver down your back.
There’s no way you’re going to be able to handle this.
The man holds the base of his cock, tapping it on your lips, spreading his pre-cum on your lips. You close your eyes as you feel the head of his cock push through your lips, your mouth stretching around him. The stranger bottoms out, groaning as you open your throat for him.
He threads his fingers in your hair, throwing his head back, pushing his cock further down your throat. Your eyes are starting to water already, so you open your eyes, silently begging him to have mercy on you.
The man smiles down, chuckling deeply. He moves his hands from your hair to your throat, wrapping his hand around the bulge in your throat. He shakes his head, tutting. “Don’t act like you don’t love this… Taking a stranger’s cock down your throat. Knowing your throat will be sore for days but you won’t know who’s to blame,”
You whimper around his cock, staying still as he fucks your throat. Your eyes are burning with tears, but you’re determined to make the stranger proud.
The stranger grunts and moans until he’s close, quickly pulling out to avoid cumming down your throat.
He’s not done with you yet.
“Upstairs, now,” He orders, jerking his head to the stairway.
You scramble up to your feet, your knees weak with lust. The man follows your lead, landing a smack on your ass. You giggle quietly as you step into your messy bedroom, dark except for your nightstand lamp.
The man grabs your waist, backing up until his thighs hit the bed. He sits, pulling you close to him, you stumbling over his feet. You attach your lips to his, your fingers falling down to the buttons on his black shirt.
“Mm,” You moan, your fingers fumbling. You plop onto his lap, his thigh slitting between your legs. You grind your cunt on his thigh, your bare skin rubbing against the fabric.
The man chuckles against your lips, his fingers digging into the swell of your ass. “Can feel you soaking my leg through my pants; you that desperate?” He asks, pulling away from your lips slightly.
You whine, nodding your head. “Yes, need you so bad,” You whimper, gasping as he smacks your ass through your thin dress. You pull the shirt off of his shoulders, your fingers running over his porcelain skin. The stranger grabs your ass, digging and stretching, desperate for any kind of contact.
You rock your hips against his thigh, your bundle of nerves aching from the lack of pressure. You can feel your stomach tightening, your legs shaking around his. "Mm," You moan, your jaw falling slack. You can feel yourself slipping, feel yourself going under.
Before you can feel that sweet release, the man is flipping you over, pinning you under him. His hips are grinding against yours, his bulge rubbing against your bare cunt. He's panting against your neck, his fingers digging into your hips. You know you'll have bruises on your skin, and the thought sends you over the edge, leaving you begging.
"P-please, fuck me. Need you so bad," You mutter, your nails scratching at his back.
"Look at ya', begging for some stranger to fuck you," He groans, slipping his hand between your bodies. You hear the unzipping of his zipper, leaving your heart to pound in your chest.
You look down, watching as he pumps himself, holding the base of his cock. You can't see as much as you'd like, thanks to the dim lighting in your room, but you can tell it's big. Your legs instinctively spread, your back arching for him.
You’re aching for him, aching for a man you don’t even know. The stranger mouths at your neck, running his tongue over your veins, sucking and biting, claiming you.
The man pushes forward, the head of his cock nudging its way through your soaked folds. Your body tenses up, ready for him, desperate. You moan and pant, your body opening up for him.
The stranger thrusts his hips into yours, his cock finally entering you. “Shit, love… So f’cking tight f’me,” He grunts, feeling your walls clamp around him. You whine as he works his way into you, going easy on you, knowing you’ve never had anything so fucking big.
His accent has thickened since the night started, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the alcohol or the way he’s fucking you into oblivion. You wrap your legs around his waist, claiming his as yours, pulling him deeper into you.
He rocks into you, pulling out and pushing back into you, his fingers gripping your body, whispering in your ear. “Don’t you feel like a whore? Giving your body up to random men in the club? I thought you were a good girl, huh?”
You nod, tears flooding out of your eyes from the intense pressure. “Yes, I-I am!” You shout, squealing as he quickly pulls out of you.
“On your fucking knees,” He mutters, on his knees behind you. You struggle to get up, too fucked out to think straight, so he helps you, using your hips to manipulate your body. Your stomach comes flush with the bed, your back arching.
He lands a hard smack to your ass, humming as he watches it jiggle. “Tell me you love it, tell me you love letting a stranger ruin you,” He orders, his fingers running over the swell of your ass. You suddenly feel a burning sensation, but it only heightens your pleasure.
Your mouth parts as he enters you again, his hand sliding around to the front of your body. He finds your clit, using two of his fingers to rub the nub, sending you over the edge.
You cum around his cock, clenching and spasming, all while the man fucks you, harder, deeper. He draws back, moving his hand to the back of your neck, digging his fingers into the flesh.
He holds your neck, not hard enough to hurt you, but hard enough to claim you. He fucks into you mercilessly, panting and moaning behind you. “I love it, I love it,” You sob, your emotions spilling out of you.
The stranger isn't too far behind you, burying himself deep inside of you, his body stilling as he moans, emptying himself deep within your cunt. He collapses on top of you, his face buried in your neck, his cock still buried deep within you.
You attempt to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your ears, but your body slips under, too exhausted to catch up.
You hear the sounds of birds chirping, scrunching your face as you pull the pillow over your face. You don't know what time it is, but you know it's too early to be up.
Especially after last night.
You whimper as you feel your cunt aching, sore from the abuse it suffered last night. Your whole body is sore, but your ass is particularly sore. It... Stings.
You pull the pillow away from your face, flopping your head to the side. You halfway expected the man to still be asleep, curled up next to you. But you knew better.
The bed is empty, no indent to be found. You know he probably left shortly after you fell asleep, but you tell yourself he slept over, sneaking out in the morning.
You never did catch his name.
You know you'll never see him again, but you'd at least like to have a name to match his face. You roll over, swinging your legs off the edge of the bed. Your ass stings again, earning a groan out of you.
You slowly walk over to the mirror, your whole body aching. You've never felt this strange feeling before. It's almost as if... You'd been branded.
You lift your shirt up, turning around to inspect your ass. Your fingers lightly run over the mark on your ass, your eyes widening as you see the letters.
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Our Last Summer
Loki x GN reader
I know it took a while but I finally got around to writing my entry for @spider-starry abba writing contest!!! This was so much fun to work on and such a creative contest!! I hope you like it!!
Summary: while at the TVA Loki finds one more memory that they tried to hide from him
Word Count: 1458
Loki watched with watery eyes at the projection that was being shown to him. His whole life playing before him in a matter of minutes, all of his accomplishments and downfalls condensed into a single film that would no doubt be tossed away on a shelf after it’a completion. He felt all emotions at once, laughing with Thor one moment and the next mourning his mother’s death that he had yet to experience. He watched himself die and his brother cry out for him until the screen turned black, skipped over and over on an invisible pause.
Mobius stood up leaving the remote on the table, a silent agreement flashed between them and Mobius left him to have a moment alone. Understanding the weight that had just been thrust upon him. Loki heard the door close and he stood up pacing the room, the once spacious area getting smaller and smaller as he took it all in. It was cruel what the TVA had subjected him to, making him watch what he could have become if he had been given the chance. Making him relive all the pain and sorrow just to show him that none of it mattered because he was never detained to be more than a sacrificial lamb.
Loki tossed the tesseract across the room with as much force as he could, it clattered and dropped not even a starch on it. Chest heaving he turned to look around the room, he made a move for the table flipping it over. The remote and tempad clattered to the floor, the motion kicking the film alive again. Loki’s eyes widened, he wouldn't watch it again. He sat down on the floor steps, hands clamped around his ears trying to drown out the praise of his brother that would come first. He waited but no sound ever came on, he slowly turned and what he saw on the screen nearly knocked the air out of him. He scrambled to his feet and stood in front of the tilted projection.
It was a part of his life that Mobius had chosen not to show him. It was his and yours last summer together. Loki picked up the tempad with shaking hands and sat down on the steps with it, holding it straight to see it projected clearly on the large wall in front of him. It was a simple memory one that had no real importance or excitement.
It wasn’t the day in June when you both played a prank on Thor and sent him running halfway to midgard. It wasn't the night in July when you had your first kiss on the balcony. No, it was the last day of your teenage years together. Summer was coming to an end and it would come time for Loki to be fully committed to royal duties, no more carefree summers like this one. But that was a thought for another time, right now you both only cared about spending every possible moment together.
You were both lying in the grass, bathing in the sunlight. You laid on your side beside him, humming that old folk song to him as you braided flowers into his hair. “When she sings, she sings come home.” You combed your fingers through his hair finding ways to braid it despite its short length. He hummed along to your song, your hushed whispers creating the most beautiful melody. You smiled and he raised an eyebrow at you. “What?”
“You should grow your hair out.” You teased. Loki laughed, remembering how shocked he was at your request, he touched his own wavy locks. Gods how you would love it now, you would have a field day braiding every asgardian plant and flower into it. He turned back to the projection watching himself respond with that famous smirk of his.
‘Oh yeah?” He answered sitting up and caging you between his arms. You nodded and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You pushed forwards and Loki lost his support, he grabbed your waist as you both tumbled down the hill together. You laughed as you did, it contrasted wonderfully with Loki’s grimaces as he managed to hit every rock while you were lucky enough to use him as a human cushion.
You both came to a stop at the bottom of the hill. You giggled as you pushed yourself up to look at him. “We should do that again.”
Loki blew back the hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Only if you agree to let me use you as a cushion next time.” You both laughed and he kissed you again. It was messy and awkward as all young kisses are but it was beautiful. Loki could still taste the strawberries on your lips from the picnic earlier. And even now it lingered, he touched his lips and closed his eyes at the memories.
His head was swimming with memories of you, that one memory bringing it all back. He thought of the time later that day when you both took turns reading his favorite book to each other. Listening to some midgardian song. Thor had brought a music player of some kind back for you. You had danced with him to their cheesy music all night.
He thought of how that was the last day you were both truly happy. Summer was always an escape and as he got older it wasn't one he could afford to indulge in any longer. In his quest for power he slowly began to let you go. He didn't realize it at the time but he was losing you, he was becoming cruel towards you. One thing he promised he’d never do. You tried to hold him for as long as you could but in the end you knew that a love like yours needed summers to survive. And as much as it hurt to do you let him go, promising that if he really loved you he’d find his way back.
A part of him had died when you got married to another three summers later, he was invited but he couldn't bring himself to go. Instead he stormed up to what used to be your shared room. He was going to destroy that music box he had made for you, it played your favorite midgardian song. You had left it with him as a parting gift, but when he got to the room he coulndt do it. He just held it in his hands and listened to the soft melody, letting himself cry over you for the first time since you left. And here he was crying again, that same song playing in his head. He watched the film come to an end, that same devastating end of film playing over and over.
Mobius was still standing outside the door, he could hear the sound of soft cries coming from inside the room. Mobius lightly pushed the door open and his heart broke at what he saw inside. Loki was watching the same scene on repeat, you braiding his hair as you hummed a song to him. Except this time he turned the volume off and was mumbling his own song to the lost summer memory. “I can still recall our last summer. I still see it all..”
Loki trailed off as he heard the sound of Mobius’ dress shoes squeaking on the tile. He slowly stood up, his arm coming up to quickly wipe the tears from his face. His eyes were bloodshot and watery but determination was set in his gaze. “I’ll do it. I’ll help you catch your variant.”
“Thank you.” Mobius nodded, Loki sneered, rolling his eyes.
“I’m not doing it for you.” Loki pushed back Mobius and let the guards escort him to wherever they may. “I’m doing it for them.” Loki nodded his head back before he left.
Mobius looked at the image Loki had stopped it on, it was you smiling as if you had heard what he was doing and if you knew the good he could do. Your and his’ last summer reminding him that there was still good in him.
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Just for You | l.laufeyson x reader
this cute lil request is from @thatdepressedgorl <3
a/n | i am SO sorry this took so long to come out, it isn’t my best work either but i’m over loaded with work experience and exams atm so i thought it would be best to write this as soon as i got on half-term break! i hope you enjoy regardless!
request | would I be able to request a headcannon with Loki? Dancing together, like that scene in tangled where Flynn and Rapunzel are dancing, and it’s at like a massive event thrown by Odin in Asgard.
warnings | literally none just fluff!
They adored dancing, their partner did not.
Over time however, Y/n grew to understand why he abhorred the nonsensical public appearances and performances.
Loki, their beloved, was treated like an amusement at a child’s birthday rather than a person in the eyes of the court, not to mention constantly being cast to the side for Thor’s sake. It had truly taken a toll on the prince.
“Please, Loki.” They preened sweetly. “Just one dance, a simple one. Everyone will be doing it so they won’t even notice us!”
“My love..” He sighed, sounding all but exasperated. “I regret to inform you, for about the fourth time this night, that I do not dance.”
A scoff left his lovers lips. Loki did in fact dance, quite well actually.
His moments were swift and delicate, he only ever danced with them, so it made sense. He moved carefully and precisely.
He just didn’t want to.
“Not even just one short dance?” Loki couldn’t help but grin at the way they kindly cooed.
Hesitantly, the prince glanced around him before nodding. “Just one.”
Y/n clapped excitedly, the sweetest of smiles adorning their face. “Oh, thank you, Loki!”
With his hands grasped tightly in theirs they rushed to the circle where the townsfolk danced.
It truly was the purest sight one could lay their eyes on. Children running around their circle, giggling to their hearts content, mothers and fathers swaying young ones in their arms and couples simply enjoying their beloveds company.
Loki didn’t particularly love the aspect of switching partners, seeing Y/n dance, throwing their head back with wholesome laughter wasn’t a great sight through his eyes; but when his eyes caught theirs, seeing the smile that stretched across their face, he came to a quaint realisation.
Perhaps dancing wasn’t too bad.
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Kinktober Day 10: Oct. 10th
Word Count: 1,480
Warnings: Loki dom, Y/N sub, a little edging, anal sex, sex tape, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, some fluff at the end
Summary: Loki is a bit upset with Pietro. Things get a bit heated between you and Loki and he decides to record your enjoyable session.
Loki smirked at you. "You find yourself aroused by my roughness or is it my dominance that turns you on, hmm darling?" You felt a familar wetness pool in between your legs. "It's both. I've always loved degradation but you already know that."
A new song started to play and Loki turned to the bartender. "I'll have a scotch, please." The man poured him his drink and slid it across the table. He drank it striaght to the head and placed the glass back on the table. "Would you like to dance with me, darling?" "Sure." You two went on the dance floor and Loki took your hand in his.
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close. Sway me more. He spun you around and brought your body in his. Your fingers were intertwined and Loki's body was right against yours. He brought your face closer to his. He then kissed you and you eagerly kissed him back. You finally slid in tongue wnd Loki followed, dominating the kiss in an instant.
The kiss broke and he twirled you around again. Other dancers may be on the floor. Dear, but my eyes will see only you. A smirk was on his face. "Are you sure we can't leave the party early? Our room is just a few steps upward. I know you want me to fuck you." You pressed your legs together in anticipation.
You couldn't help yourself and you took Loki's hand, walking him upstairs to your room. The tension was just too strong and you knew you would get more chances to tease him. He closed the door to your room and he looked at you.
You could see a bit of frustration and anger on his face but not because of you, because of Pietro. With a flick of his wrist, your clothing and his magically melted off of your body. You were left in the lingerie that Loki bought you and he smiled. "How dare you try to cheat me out of a sight like this. You're beautiful in every way."
He walked towards you and threw you on the bed. "I know you're still a bit angry. You can take it out on my body if you'd like. I want you to." Loki's eyes darkened and he turned his cheek. "I can't. I don't want to hurt you." You pushed him down on the bed.
"Fine then but you know I'm not fragile. You have been rough with me many times before." You stradled him and placed his hands around your waist. You bucked foward, making Loki groan in response. "You enchantress," he whispered out. He flipped you under him and kissed you.
The two of you kissed and your hand wrapped around his neck. Your toungues danced with each other and you were left hot with flush. His lips trailed on your neck and he placed open mouthed kisses at the most sensitive area of it.
He then placed a hickey there, his hand fiddling with your lingerie. "Do you mind if I try something different," he questioned. "Not at all." He magicked a camera into his hand and smiled down at you. You became wetter when you realized what Loki was going to do. He set the camera up perfectly in the room then walked back to you.
"You look wonderful. I really would love to taste you at this moment. I can practically smell you already. But this is in the way." He tore off your lingerie and you shivered in delight. "I liked that outfit." "I'll buy you a better one."
He kissed on your shoulders and collarbone, planting a few hickies in his wake. He then placed open mouthed kisses on your stomach then your inner thighs. He kitten licked your opening, shifting around to get a tight grip on you. His tongue dove into you and you instantly grabbed his hair. His tongue twirled around and he suckled on you.
He used his Seidr, making magical vibrations come on his tongue. You practically came at the feeling. He then dove a finger in and your back arched from the bed. "Loki," you moaned out. He moaned into you, the extra vibration making you crumble in his touch.
You came in his mouth and he eagerly licked it all up. He kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself and you bucked up at him, trying to receive some sort of friction. "Patience, pet. Don't make me have to punish you." He flipped you onto your stomach and lifted your hips. "How rough do you want me to be?" You arched your back.
"I want you to be as rough as you can. I want you to make me cry and beg." Loki grabbed you tightly and plunged into you. You expected him to bottom out but he continued and you screamed out his name. His thrusts were fast, rough, and deep. He then choked you lightly, pressing your face against the matress.
His nails were sure to leave a bruise on you by the way that he held you but it was too pleasurable. "Whose are you?" "Yours, sire," you moaned out. He removed his hand from your neck then pulled your hair. "What are you mines to do?" He did a hard thrust and you yelled out his name.
"To love, to trust, mm, to fuck, to claim, to ruin, to use," he went deeper in you. "Fuck, sire!" "To breed and to spoil." You were close to your release and you clenched around him. He then withdrew from you and you whimpered.
"Do you wish to be completely and utterly ruined by me?" "Yes, sire," you said desperately. "Beg for it then." "Please, sire, ruin me. Claim me as yours. Fuck me rougher than you've done to any other." Loki turned you over on your back and grinned at you. "How can I resist when you beg so wonderfully?" He plunged inside of you and took both of your wrists in one hand, putting your wrists above your head. He went fast, fucking you into oblivion.
The bed shook and your head hit the headboard. "Fuck," you moaned. His eyes went to you for a moment and he looked concerned. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" "No, sire." He smiled down at you and continued claiming you. You saw stars and you were very close to your release. He smirked at you and stopped.
"I'm going to deny you of your release once more just to tease you." He placed his lips above yours and cupped your face. He lowered down, just to where your lips were touching and placed a brief kiss there. There was no tongue involved and it left you hungry for more.
He grabbed your body in his arms, hugging you gently. He placed open mouthed kisses on your neck and collarbone, keeping his main focus on you. "Darling, you need to breathe. You're so responsive to me. Your body is
just begging to be filled with me even if you don't say it. I know that your craving is me." He kissed your temple then your knuckles. He bit on your earlobe gentle enough not to hurt you. "Are you ready for the last part, dear?" "Please, sire. Yes."
He bucked his hips forward and bottomed out, plunging back in to be deeper in you. His hips went forward at a rapid pace and they got rougher every second. Soon, your leg was above his shoulder and you were crying at the feeling of the pleasure. Your head fell back but Loki tilted your chin up.
"Look into my eyes, pet. Don't let those beautiful irises wander from me." You did as he asked, your orgasm now closer. He took his finger and circled it around your clit. It was all too much, his roughness, the way his fingers moved, the staring in those greenish blue eyes, the fact that you were being recorded.
It was all too much for you and you knew you were soon to cum but wouldn't dare until Loki told you. He lowered his face down to yours and kissed you. "Cum with me, pet." You let out a loud cry of Loki's name as you gushed out your juices. He made sure to ride you both down from your high and released himself from you. He used his Seidr to make everything clean again and used his magic to turn the camera off as well.
He turned your bodies, allowing you to lay onto his chest. "Sleep now, dear. I have done quite a number on that human body of yours. You require rest." You sighed in his embrace and you allowed sleep to come over your body. Loki planted a kiss on your forehead once again then whispered. "I love you, my queen."
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Flufftober - Day 23
23 - Hold Me in Your Arms
Pairing: Loki x gn!reader
Word count: 850
Written for @flufftober2021 's event.
Tags: just Loki being insecure and delirious. Who wouldn't love him?? Please. A tiiiny bit of angst, but... nah.
A/N: Boy my mind has been only Thomas Sharpe for DAYS, what's wrong with me?
“What did I do to ever deserve you?”, was the thing Loki definitely did not want to say, not out loud, not at that moment of his life. And it wasn’t either the first time of the day, nor it was going to be the last one, he was sure.
If just Thor hadn’t filled his mind with the idea of having to confess his love towards you, then he wouldn’t be so influenced to say those things.
Surely, this was Thor's fault. Of course.
This wasn’t his silvertongue betraying him by underspeaking; this was his silvertongue unleashed —like a dog running towards a park on fucking fire. He sighed and hoped you hadn’t heard him.
“What?”, you asked over a mouthful of spaghetti, and he let out another sigh —this time of relief. “Loki, this pasta is uuuuhhhmmm”, you rolled your eyes and moaned in pleasure. He chuckled, his mind still not conceiving the fact that you were there, still with him. Norns, if he stays any longer in there with you, he might even end up confessing his feelings towards you. “I didn’t think you could…”, you said, and he interrupted you by getting up.
“Sorry, I… I think I need to get some fresh air”, he said suddenly, and you looked at him in concern.
“Are you alright? You look pale”.
“I’m quite alright, love, don’t…”, and he stopped on his tracks. Oh, damn. “No, I didn’t mean to call you that. Sorry”.
“You didn’t? But you did”, you said with a smirk that went unnoticed to him.
“No, I… I didn’t mean to”.
“It’s okay, you can call me that”.
“No, I can’t”, he raised his voice, and you flinched out of habit.
He stood in silence.
There it was. It didn’t even start, and he was already hurting you, wasn’t he?
He couldn’t stand this any longer. He teleported away, giving you no time to follow him, leaving behind him the faint echo of an apology and a sad smile.
You knew where he was. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to him when he so clearly wanted to be away from you, but you wanted to help.
He was your friend, after all, right?
“Loki?”, you called through his bedroom door. He was there, you could even smell the scented candles you had gifted him for when he was feeling depressed. “What’s going on, Lokes?”.
“Do not call me such endearing names”, he gruntled from the other side of the door. You could hear his voice muffled against a pillow.
“What’s got you so worked up? I can help you out of it, I’m sure”.
“You can’t. Please, leave me”, he said, and you were ready to go away and leave him be alone —sometimes all we need is a little bit of space. But he followed with a “in fact, leave me alone forever. I do not wish to continue here”.
“What? Wait, hold on a second”, you said, sticking your hands against the doorknob and pushing hard to open up. “What are you doing? Let me in!”.
“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that”, he corrected himself quickly. “I didn’t mean… you know. No”, he sighed.
“Well, what do you mean?”.
“I don’t want to be friends with you anymore”.
For a moment you didn’t say anything. Silence filled both the room and the corridor, and you sat on the floor for a moment.
“Why? Did I upset you in some way? Did I do something…?”, you stuttered, feeling the tears starting to roll off your cheeks.
“You didn’t, no”, he sighed, walking towards the door and sitting on the floor from his side. “I just can’t be by your side any longer”.
“Why? We are great together”.
“Just for that reason. We’re too good”, he said carefully. Maybe Thor was right. Maybe he had to confess his feelings, so that he’d finally push you away. Enough for you to leave him forever.
“What do you mean?”.
“Don’t you get it?”, he lost his patience, his own eyes crystallizing too. “I want to stop being your friend because you do that funny face when you eat something you like, and I want to stop being your friend because you keep on smiling every time you’re around me, and because you insist on watching kid’s movies like your life depends on it —and I actually end up enjoying them because it’s with you that I watch them with”, he said in one breath, and you found yourself lost in words.
“You… what are you saying?”.
“I’m saying I’m in love with you”, he sighed. “And I’m saying I want to be more than friends, even though I’m no good for you. And I’m saying I want to kiss your face and —Hel, every part of you, and I want to hold you in my arms forever. But I can’t”.
“Loki…”, you smiled. He sensed it. You were smiling. “Loki, I want you to hold me in your arms forever, too”.
(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson @theaudacitytowrite @bi-andready-tocry @alorev @justasmisunderstoodasloki @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @theetoastyghosty @lokiprompts
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Word count: ~5700
Pairing: Loki x female!reader (romantic)
CW: difficult family relationships, light swearing, mentions of violence
Based on a prompt from the lovely @okamiyami93, who asked for Loki comforting a female!reader after she has a late-night fight with her father over the phone 💜
Family can be tricky. Politics can be tricky. Put family and politics together, and dammit it made your life difficult.
“Dad, please,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and shutting your eyes. “It’s late, and I can’t keep explaining the same things over and over-”
“That’s because you can’t argue with my logic!”
“You don’t have logic!” You shot back. “Nothing you say has any logical conclusion. It’s all designed to make you feel smart, feel superior,” you finally lost it. “Do you seriously think I, your only daughter, would willingly engage in something that harms people?!”
“Well, that’s exactly my point,” he snarked through the phone. “You can’t see all the little lies they’re spinning. You can’t put out the fire from inside the house!”
“Everything I do is to keep the world from setting on fire, Dad. Do you honestly think I’ve been duped? You really didn’t raise me better than that?!” You started getting more targeted with your attacks, noticing your voice was raising but being unable to completely stop it.
“And now you’re attacking me instead of my argument,” your Dad replied, an air of victory to his voice. “That tells me everything I need to know. Sweetheart, we love you, but you need to take an honest look in the mirror.”
You felt hot tears of frustration sting your eyes. “There is nothing I can say that will ever convince you you’re wrong,” you seethed, standing and pacing your room. “Dad, it scares me, the way you think,” you choked out. “I’m scared you’re gonna do something stupid and illegal in the name of these little groups you’ve joined. In the name of the people you’ve put your trust in.”
“And it scares me knowing my daughter is so involved,” he replied, disappointment dripping from his voice. “Do you know how hard it is, explaining to my friends what you do? How you’re so complicit?”
“Hey, Dad,” you almost yelled. “I dismantled a hostage situation in a classified Middle-Eastern country last week. I saved thirty-six people, including twenty-one children, from certain death! When’s the last time you did something for the world other than posting on social media?!” You cried, breathing heavily as he was silent on the other end.
“… You still can’t answer my questions about-”
“-the government’s involvement in-”
“DAD!” You shouted, then immediately lowered your voice to a loud whisper. “Dad, just… stop. Stop,” you sniffed, feeling tears roll down your cheeks. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t.”
It broke your heart to have these same conversations over and over again. Trying to reasoning with someone who didn’t want to be reasoned with - not in a real way, anyways. It sucked to watch the man who raised you get sucked into all these crazy divisive theories, to watch those theories turn you into the enemy, to see the seeds of his mistrust grow into a mighty thorny bush that strangled the life out of your family.
You’d lost count of the number of conversations you’d had with him, trying to explain (around what was classified) that you weren’t invovled in some evil government scheme. Not at all. Your entire career with the Avengers, everything you did to train and fight to get here, was to protect everyone. Protect as a first priority. Avenge if you fail the first time around. It was simple, it was good, you trusted the people you reported to. It was an indescribable pain, to have your own parents think you were some sort of villain.
You didn’t know how much of it your mother believed and how much of her agreement with your father was just her trying to not rock the boat. Either way, there was very little reasoning with either of them.
After this evening, after another long and frustrating phone call, when you hung up, you let out a loud groan of frustration and spoke to the void, “Why does he have to be like this?!” It came out louder than you’d hoped, but it was said. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you put your face in your hands and let yourself cry out your frustrations.
No one on the team knew about your parents reservations. Or, perhaps a more accurate description would be, their downright distaste. They were so supportive when you were growing up, of anything you wanted to do. Halfway through your Agent training, something changed. Your Dad started spending a lot more time online, started sending you links to strange websites that looked satirical at first, but you soon realised he was falling down a rabbit-hole. By the time you’d had a week off and went home to try talking some sense into him, it was far too late. Now, here you were, wondering if you would one day see your father’s name on a list of National Security Threats. The worst part was, it felt hopeless. Like watching a car crash in slow motion.
After crying until you’d had your fill, you did some breathing exercises to calm yourself down. Tonight, however, it hit you much harder than before. Maybe it was his parting comment, maybe you were tired from a few weeks of taxing missions, but you were finding it hard to calm down completely. Remembering some kind of lavender sleepy tea in the kitchen, you pulled a hoodie over your tank top, propping the hood up to hide your face in case you passed someone, and set out for the kitchen to make a hot, soothing drink.
Making your way down the hallway, you closed your eyes and rubbed the sleeves of your hoodie over your face to wipe away the tears. That proved to be a mistake. Two more barefoot steps with your eyes closed, and your foot hit something that felt frustratingly familiar.
“Dahammit, Peter,” you sniffed, grumbling aloud as you looked down to see you’d stepped in a discarded pile of his web fluid. The kid had been walking around for days with defective web shooters, this was bound to happen. But why you, and why now?
Quickly wiping another silent tear, you sat down on the cool marble floor and got to work trying to pull the webs from your skin. The more you tried to untangle it from around your foot and between your toes, the more frustrated you became. At least this web couldn’t say things that hurt your feelings - it was a safe thing to be mad at; it couldn’t discount your entire career, make you feel helpless.
If it wasn’t late in the evening, if your eyes weren’t still tear-stained, maybe you would’ve yelled out for someone to come help you. But it was past midnight, your fingers were getting sticky, your foot wasn’t becoming any less trapped, and you felt more hot tears springing to your eyes by the second.
“Dammit,” you sniffed again, then pulled yourself forwards to rest your elbows against your knees, your forehead against the heels of your palms, careful to not get your sticky fingers near your hair as you let your chest shake with a few silent cries. You were so focused on being silent, on keeping the sobs trapped in your chest, that you barely heard the approaching footsteps. Not until the towering form was directly behind you did you realise he was there. “Oh god,” you sniffed, hiding your cheeks that weren’t just red from tears, but were now red from embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m fine- fine, I’m fine,” you babbled, trying very quickly to pull yourself together as Loki knelt in front of you.
Your trapped foot was between the two of you, still fixed to the ground. He inspected it carefully, wordlessly, perhaps trying to show that he wasn’t looking at your face. Bless him, for not making some quip about crying over spilt web fluid. “Is there any kind of solution to dissolve this?” He finally looked up into your eyes, and gave no indication of pity. You wiped your face again, just in case any tears remained, and racked your brain for the answer.
“Um, maybe in the lab. But if you could just cut it away, I… I can find that later, I just wanted some tea,” you kept fumbling words out, trying to explain why you were up so late at night. Loki looked at you for a few more moments, finally breaking the charade that you hadn’t been crying. You sighed and pulled on your foot again, prompting Loki to look back down and conjure a blade.
As he sliced away at the webs with great care, you couldn’t help the blush that crept back into your cheeks. Here you were, face puffy from crying, old pyjama shorts peeking out from below a faded grey hoodie, in the presence of a god. It seemed foolish, that he’d be helping you so delicately. Part of you wished anyone else would have found you, but the selfish part of you was relieved to have an opportunity to see how he would respond to a situation like this; a situation in which you were vulnerable. As mortifying as it was to sit here like this, you were comforted by the kindness in his tone, in his touch.
Once he finished cutting away large parts of it and only the smaller bits remained, he stood and held a hand down to you. You stood on your non-stick foot, hesitant to put in on the ground where it could become stuck again. Letting go of his hand, you spun on your good foot and took a hop towards the lab.
He let out an amused breath, and was by your side in a second. One arm slid around your waist and one took your hand, throwing it around his shoulder before you could fully get your protest out. “N-no, Loki, I’m okay,” you sniffed. “I can get there myself.”
“I’d need to follow you anyway,” Loki said, guiding you down as you hopped beside him. “Make sure I wouldn’t awake in the morning to find you fixed to the floor down a wayward hall.” You let yourself smile in thanks as you kept hopping beside him, struggling a bit to manoeuvre around the sheer height difference. He paused and let out a breath. “Might I-”
“Go for it,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “My pride is already irredeemably shattERED!” You almost squeaked, gods could you imagine squeaking, as Loki swept you into his arms and carried you bridal-style towards the lab. He bit back a smirk at how he’d caught you off guard, and you tried to not be too obvious as you let yourself feel all the places your body touched his. His strength was impressive, evident, his body solid and warm and… safe. Being in the arms of the God of Mischief should probably have made you feel insecure, inadequate maybe, but you just felt safe. “Sorry for intruding on whatever you were doing,” you mumbled, finally breaking the silence as FRIDAY opened the doors to the lab.
Loki walked over to a workbench. “You didn’t intrude,” he assured, setting you on the table with your feet dangling over the edge. “Would you like to ask the machine?” He stood up straight and looked you in the eyes, his own not showing any indication of annoyance or disdain. That made you relax, and then you realised what he’d asked you.
“FRIDAY? Web-fluid dissolvent? Safe for human skin.”
“Over here,” the voice replied, then a light flashed next to a cabinet. Loki walked over and opened it without you having to ask, sorting through the labelled bottles and canisters until he found a large bottle with a spray top. He read the instructions for a few moments and then pulled out a box next to it, bringing them both over to the workbench.
“He’s left an apology,” Loki told you, handing you the bottle as he flipped open the small metal box. The latches of it clinked against the table as you smiled at Peter’s note he’d left.
Sorry if you have to use this!! It doesn’t sting, I promise.
“That’s cute,” you commented, then read that he’d instructed you to administer a few sprays against a rag and soak the webs until they break down, the wipe them away. Loki reached out to take the bottle from you and you stammered, “O-oh, I’ve got it, it’s okay,” you smiled, holding your hand out for the rag.
“You’ve put your fingers on that, haven’t you?” Loki smirked good-naturedly and watched as you tried to release the bottle, having completely forgotten the fluid had gotten your fingertips too. Biting your lip, you felt yourself blush again. “Allow me,” he reached out again and you held it away. He gave you a questioning look.
“This is so far beneath you,” you sighed, hanging your head in embarrassment. “You don’t need to wipe webs off my vile feet.”
“Nothing about you is vile,” Loki chuckled. So casually, in fact, you nearly believed him. It threw you off enough for him to grab the top part of the bottle and squeeze a few sprays onto the rag. He held it to your fingers around the plastic bottle and let it soak in. “This’ll have to settle for longer, since they’re stuck to something,” he said, still smirking.
“Is this funny to you?” You challenged, but with humour in your voice.
“Humour is a tool to cope with difficulty. What can we do, lest sometimes laugh at ourselves, and others,” Loki replied, holding the rag to your free fingers, letting the solution soak in before wiping away the stickiness. He was thorough, going one finger at a time. “Are you okay?”
His abrupt question nearly made you flinch, and it certainly made you hold your breath. Not knowing how to reply, not wanting to lie to him, or tell the truth, you took your time and thought of what to say. In the meantime, Loki looked up to your face, then looked back down. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I find it a rather reprehensible thing, actually. The walls are surprisingly thin for a place such as this.”
“Ah,” was all you could muster. You sniffed again, shifting in your seat as he closed the rag around your middle finger.
“I’m not asking you to trust me with your interpersonal secrets,” Loki clarified, wiping the webs away with a delicate and firm pull of the rag. “I just want to know if you’re okay.”
A soft smile found it’s way to your lips, and maybe a bit of heat to your cheeks, as Loki closed the rag around your ring finger and lightly squeezed. “That’s very kind of you,” you said, just above a whisper. “I’ll be okay,” you nodded.
“You’ll be, or you are?”
“I don’t know. It’s just my Dad,” you sighed, letting out the tense breath in your lungs. “He’s… difficult. He doesn’t understand what I do. Or he doesn’t like it. I don’t know.”
“But you’re good,” Loki’s brow furrowed. He twisted the rag around your ring finger and pulled it away. You then realised how calming the sensation was. You smiled at that, and at his compliment.
“Politics and family don’t really mix well,” you admitted sheepishly. “My dad is convinced I’m working for the government. He’s convinced the government is a front for an evil underground cabal and that by being an Avenger… I’m in on it. In on hurting children, in on spreading fear and hate and all the bad things in the world.”
Thinking back on it, that was perhaps the first time you’d heard those words from his lips. It caught you a little off-guard, but you quickly recovered and tried to shift the focus from your over-sharing.
“You understand difficult fathers,” you shrugged.
“It’s different,” Loki hummed thoughtfully, wiping the webs from your pinky and then inspecting your hand for more. “My father had reason to mistrust me.”
“My father thinks he has his reason,” you bit your lip. “He thinks he’s doing the right thing, by telling me to get lost.”
“He what?” Loki looked up and placed the rag, and his hand, against the bench and looked at you with such pained confusion in his eyes. Seeing Loki‘s heart hurt for you threatened your eyes with tears once again, so you looked away and tested your fingers against the bottle, finding they were loosening but not quite unstuck.
You shrugged, willing the tears away. “Holidays coming up,” you mumbled, feet fidgeting nervously. “He’s made it clear I’m not welcome at home until I’ve seen the error of my ways,” you sang his words, trying to use humour to deal with the difficulty, but the smile dropped as fast as you’d formed it. “I’m okay,” you lifted your head to look Loki dead in the eyes, hard as it was to not get lost in them. His blue gaze flashed with an anger, a pain, a familiar feeling of being cast out. An unlikely comrade, he was, here, cleaning webs from your fingers.
He reached over and sprayed the bottle onto the rag once more, then reached down and grabbed your ankle in his hand. You tugged on it in protest, “Wait, Loki, I can do it.”
“If you‘re uncomfortable I’ll relent, but if you’re worried about being any sort of burden, know it’s my pleasure to assist you,” he said earnestly, and you finally dropped your protests, nodding that it was fine for him to continue. Truth be told, it was nice to have someone to look after you.
“Is there another rag? I think my fingers are coming off the bottle,” you looked to the box, and Loki reached over to grab another. He held it up for you to use your free hand to spray against the fabric, then passed it to you for you to begin working away at the sticky fluid with the dissolvent. “I’m really okay, Loki. It’s been this bad since I joined SHIELD. I mean, it got worse when I joined the Avengers, but he got sucked into this stuff when I was a teenager. I’m used to it.”
“Are you aware there are small corners of your World Wide Web which believe my attack on New York was staged by your government?”
“Are you aware my Dad believes that?” You laughed, lest you cry. Loki eyed you warily as he pressed the rag to the heel of your foot, lifting an eyebrow to question you. You chuckled, shaking your head as you freed your thumb. “I know,” you muttered. Desperate to get your mind off your family, you looked at him and tilted your head in question. “What else have you heard about yourself?”
“Let‘s see,” a smirk spread across his lips. You pulled on your fingers and managed to free them all from the bottle with a victorious hiss. Getting to work on them as he thought, you looked over to your foot. “I had a woman approach me on the street and ask how it felt to be playing a Greek god in a grand scheme.”
“The audacity,” you gasped in mock horror. “Don’t worry, the people that matter know you’re a Roman god,” you teased. He snapped his head up and you winked, showing you knew he was Norse. Chuckling, he looked down and wiped away the webs at your heel just as you’d finished cleaning two fingers. Your eyes widened and you tried very hard not to flinch.
Oh... no. Oh no. This was going to end badly for you.
Loki reached for the bottle, careful to avoid the residual sticky patches left by your fingers, and sprayed more onto the rag, blissfully unaware that his swiping against your foot had tickled you.
You knew your body well enough, had enough physiotherapy and sports massage appointments, to know how ticklish you were and where. Even though your feet weren’t your worst spot, they were at the level where you couldn’t bear getting a professional pedicure. You also knew: the closer to your toes, the more ticklish your foot was. Loki’d started at the least ticklish place on your foot. It could only get worse from here.
Wringing the rag around your middle finger, you decided to attempt getting your fingers clean as fast as you could and then take over from Loki before it got to the point where you couldn’t hide the ticklish feeling anymore. “Any others?” You asked nonchalantly, hoping that keeping him talking would slow his progress on the webs.
“Hmm,” he smiled, then began telling you a story of when he was visiting Norway with Thor, checking in on New Asgard, and how a group of people had set up a covert operation nearby to spy on them, to prove something or the other. They were most shocked when Thor and Loki knocked on their door, telling them to get lost. In the meantime, your ring finger was almost clean. “This is working well,” he commented, then wiped away the webs at the sole of your foot. You sucked your teeth silently and tried to send your mind elsewhere, disguising the involuntary tensing of your leg with a shift on the table, feigning movement to get more comfortable. “I spoke too soon,” he hummed, pressing the rag in and taking another swipe. You cleared your throat and got the final bits off your ring finger.
One finger left. Maybe you should leave it sticky and get the hell out of dodge.
Loki pinched at the very centre of your foot with the rag, pulling a string of web away, before flipping the cloth over to spray on the cleaner side.
“I can take it from here,” you nodded kindly, casually. He gave you a look and brought the rag back to your skin to soak at the place where your arch became the ball of your foot. The mere feeling of the rough fabric shifting against the skin made you want to flinch, so you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle when he wiped it away. The fluid soaked into your pinky finger and you willed yourself to be patient, waiting for the moment you could wipe the last of it.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Hmm?” You met his eye and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, fine,” you smiled. “I appreciate you helping me out. Here, I’m all done. How about I take over there and you do the bottle.” You picked it up to hold it out to him, then accidentally slamming it down from instinct when Loki swiped the rag across the soft skin just beneath the ball of your foot. Facade broken, you spluttered out a few giggles and braced your hands against the edge of the table, jerking your foot in his grasp.
Loki looked at you with an insufferable smirk on his lips, an endeared smile laced between the mischief. “Ah,” he clicked his tongue. “It all makes sense now.”
“Yeah, alright,” you rolled your eyes and tried to pull your foot from his hand, but he didn’t let go. “Loki…” you warned as he shifted the rag in his hand and sniffed, widened his smirk and locked eyes with you.
“We’re not done, darling,” he said in a low, dangerous drawl. He pulled a swift turn and secured your foot in the crook of his elbow, pressing the rag against the ball of your foot and holding it there firmly.
“Noho, Loki,” you whined and tugged on your foot. In order to prevent you from yanking yourself forward to tumble off the bench, he allowed you bend your knee to the point where his backside was against the counter, your legs either side of him. “Loki!” You tried to hold in your giggles.
“Nearly there,” he promised, the grin evident in his voice.
“Loki, I’m being serious,” you scolded, but if you could hear the playfulness in your own voice, Loki certainly could.
Loki would probably have relented if he thought you meant it, but part of you was grateful for the distraction. Especially a distraction from the person who made your heart flutter with a mere look.
“Ready?” He turned his head to look at you from the corner of his eye and began wiping roughly against the ball of your foot, not trying in the slightest to be careful.
You burst into frantic giggling laughter, pulling helplessly on your foot as Loki’s fingers pressed against the sensitive skin through the rag. “P-plehease,” you leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders, squeezing and shaking them as you shook and jolted with the ticklish sparks being sent through your entire foot.
“I think I need more solution,” Loki teased, holding up the rag.
“Hell no, you’re not making me compLICIHIT LOKI!” You fell back into laughter as he resumed swiping at the skin.
“I can’t move on if you don’t help me,” he shrugged. You whimpered and tapped on his shoulders to signal defeat, picking up the bottle to spray the rag with a defeated groan. “Cahalm down, love,” he chuckled. “Last one.”
When he closed the rag over and around your toes, you immediately tensed and began twitching with every shift of the fabric.
“Oh dear,” Loki commented.
“I can d-do it myhyself,” you twitched, then winced, trying to hold in your giggles.
“You’re not going to smack your head on anything, are you?” Loki turned to get a better look at where he’d sat you. Pouting at him, then glowering, you shook your head and pushed at his shoulders in a futile attempt to ward him off his attack. “Do you need something to bite down on?” He teased.
“Oh, shut it,” you huffed, resting your forehead against the back of his shoulder, too tired to really think through the implications.
“It’s rather adorable.”
“Really,” you rolled your eyes, twitching again when he readied his hold to wipe the last of the webs away.
“Mhmm,” he agreed. “I rather like seeing you laugh.”
“There are easier ways.”
“Quite the contrary.”
A split-second later he began squeezing and grinding the rag all over your toes. You let out a giggly scream and shot backwards from his shoulder, catching yourself against the large work table to be propped up by your elbows, pulling on your foot as Loki kneaded the scratchy rag all around your toes. Your laughter pitched up as he slotted the rag between them, and you fell with your back against the clean, metal surface as he picked up his pace and roughly cleaned the last of it. Slamming a fist against the table, you growled through your laughter at Loki’s amused chuckle.
After several more agonising moments of him running the rag over the space under your toes, he finally released your foot and turned to face you. “Alright, there?” He laughed, sliding a hand over to squeeze at your side. You squeaked, dammit squeaked, and shot a hand down to catch his, finally sitting up.
When you did, it caught you off-guard to be face-to-face with Loki. He was so much taller than most mortals, even taller than the super soldiers, so you’d never been level with his face before. A ticklish smile still on your lips, your hand still on his, his hand still on your waist, you tried to give him a playfully firm look. “Thanks for your help, Loki,” you nodded, and turned to pick up the bottle. When you did, his ducked his head to follow your gaze.
“I am sorry,” he nodded. “About your troubles with your father.”
You smiled, this time with a hint of sadness, nodding to accept his kind words.
“Would it perhaps help, if I…”
You lifted your head. “If you what?”
“He doesn’t believe in me. Should I instil the fear of Odin in him? I could conjure some blades, show my power- why are you laughing?”
Giggling into the back of your hand, you looked at him, beyond smitten. “That’s very sweet of you,” you grinned. “He’d no doubt find a way to explain it away, but it’s sweet of you to ahask,” your giggles turned to laughter at the though of Loki performing magic in your parents’ living room.
“Are you laughing at me?” He asked, mischief in his voice. You knew what that meant, so you tried to pull yourself together.
“No, I Nono, I’m nohot,” you snorted, unable to hold it together from how flustered you were by his playful glare, and how tired you were from it being the early hours of the morning.
“Agent, you’re just asking for it now,” he scoffed and shot his hands over to knead his thumbs in beside your hipbones. You shrieked and jumped, curling in on yourself as you tried to push your hands away through your laughter.
“Lohokihi,” you snivelled and squeaked, squirming under his ticklish touch. “L-Lo-LOKI!” Crumpling further, your forehead this time rested against the front of his shoulder as you tried to put your fingers in between his fingers and your hips. He merely responded by tickling up your sides and digging his fingers into the middle of your ribs, clawing all around the spaces where your back met your sides. “NO!” You exploded in laughter and tried pulling yourself away, already substantially weakened.
With your arms helplessly clamped by your sides, and your knees lifting to curl yourself into a little ball, your abdomen tensed with laughter at the ticklish onslaught. Loki suddenly retracted his hands, shifted your half-curled body to be fully on the table, then attempted to worm his way into the tightly-shut spaces under your arms. “Noho wahay!” Eyes shut tight, you shook your head in protest, completely giving away the one spot you didn’t want him to reach.
“Have you always been so ticklish?”
“PLEHEASE!” You laughed and turned to face him to protect your back from his digging fingers. He shot a hand down between your limbs to claw at your belly though the thick fabric of your hoodie, making you bubble in streaming giggles. A few quick squeezes at your knee made you kick out, so he grabbed your hip and drilled his thumb and squeezed up the length of your side, making you fall into a new spout of laughter.
“Come now,” he chuckled, grabbed both your wrists in one hand, and pulled you off the edge of the table, forcing you to outstretch your legs to land on the ground standing.
To your surprise, he released you. Smiling fondly, lingering his gaze for several moments, Loki then turned to place the elements back in the cabinet. You relaxed and yawned - a yawn he caught when he turned back around after shutting the door.
“Still need that cup of tea?” He looked on quizzically. You thought for a moment, and then nodded. An outstretched arm motioned for you to lead the way, and Loki trailed behind you through the tables until you reached out for the door. The second your arm lifted, after you’d finally let your guard down, he slotted both hands up and dug harshly into the soft skin beneath your arm.
You genuinely screamed out and collapsed to your knees, your blow softened by Loki holding your weight and following you down. “TRAHAITOHOR!” You shrieked and thrashed against his fingers as they pressed in hard to compensate for the thick hoodie. His deep laugh rumbled as he knelt behind you and continued his attack. Your laughter soon went silent as you lurched forward, completely weakened, hiccuping for air as you squealed breathlessly and you finally managed to flip onto your back and knock his hands from their place.
Loki was grinning down at you, amused at how you were disheveled from the struggle. Huffing, blowing a piece of hair from your eyes, you reached out and swatted at his chest. “The hell, Loki?” You laughed with a whine.
“Couldn’t resist,” he winked, then reached his hands down again. You squeaked and slapped them away but Loki laughed, a warm smile across his features. “I’m done. Promise.” Eyeing him warily, you nevertheless accepted his help to pull you up to your feet. Leaning in closer, he tacked on, “For tonight, at least,” in a dastardly rasp.
Blushing, you rolled your eyes and began the short journey to the kitchen, watching keenly for any renegade pools of Spider-man’s webbing. Accepting yet another gesture of kindness, you allowed Loki to tell you to take a seat at the kitchen island and prepare you a cup of tea. He brewed it in silence, one for himself as well, then set it before you.
“Thanks again for… you know,” you smiled sheepishly and took the mug in your cupped hands, shielding your palms from the heat with your sleeves.
“I couldn’t leave you stuck there like that,” Loki chuckled. “Not after hearing you leave, knowing you were upset.”
“Oh, s-so you-”
“You didn’t come across me. You came looking for me,” you pieced together. Loki’s lips tightened into a polite smile, whereas yours melted into a grateful one.
“I hope I didn’t overstep,” he cleared his throat.
You smiled, at him, “Not at all.” After perhaps lingering a little too long with your adoring stare, you felt yourself blush and you looked back to the steaming hot aromatic brew. “Before this hits me, you think you have time for another story?”
Loki looked at you fondly, cleared his throat again and then sniffed, setting the scene for a fringe group of internet sleuths who were convinced they’d found an opening to the bi-frost.
You listened and laughed and joked with him, being told stories well into the hours past when you should have been asleep. By the time he refilled your tea for the third time, he‘d subtly moved you two to be sitting on the couch. By the time he’d told his last story for the night, you’d fallen asleep with your head in his lap, and his fingers laced through your hair.
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Imagine Loki holding you, and you requesting to see the sunrise. Instead of watching it with you, he looks at you with his back to it. When you ask him if he wants to see it, he replies that he's holding it in his arms.
“I want to see the sunrise.” You say gently. He faintly smiles at you, his eyes smiling more than his lips. He turns around and kicks the door open, his eyes fixed on your face. As you step out on the porch your eyes are drawn to the magnificent colors rising over the lake. Loki sets you on the back of a sturdy chair, his arms still wrapped around your waist as you look over his shoulder to the sunrise. You breathe deeply as the bright red and cyan colors paint your vision, orange and yellow reflecting off your face and eyes. The few clouds in the sky are shimmering white and the stillness of the water captures the color, making them a shade darker and richer. It’s captivating. “Don’t you want to see it?” You glance at him. He’s lost in a sort of trance as he traces your features with your eyes. The feeling of being seen and felt rushes over you, bringing a nervousness that you can't explain. His voice is quiet when he finally responds. “I do see it, I hold it in my arms already.” His velvet voice lulls you. “She is brilliantly colored, bright enough to drown out the darkest nights.” Your heart skips a beat, and Loki runs his finger over your jawline. “Her touch warms my heart after the bitter cold of the day, never hiding her beauty from my sight.” You look at Loki, wonder in your face, but his solemn eyes follow the path of his feather touches that run over your neck. “Her beauty calls the sleepers awake, always bringing the promise of warmth.” He doesn’t meet your gaze but closes his eyes as he gently nuzzles his nose against your hair and pulls you into a deeper embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, welcoming the closeness you two possess.
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A Month to Remember: A Flufftober Series
Day 23: Hold Me in Your Arms
Pairing: Loki x reader
Series Summary: When you’re sure your adoptive fathers, Steve and Bucky, and the rest of the team wouldn’t approved of your new relationship with Loki, the two of you decide to keep it a secret. But how long can the charade last before everyone find out?
Chapter Warnings: perhaps a bit of angst but it’s only so the fluff can fix it 😤
A/N: The prompt list is from @flufftober2021! Enjoy :)
Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorloki @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163 @lokislittlesigyn @wolfish-trickster @electroma89 @jgun2001 @toe-vind-ek-jou @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @theaudacitytowrite @patches-of-mist @nicoistrying @geminiwolves @funnyexel @nectav @50svibes @dryyoursaltyoceantears @bison-writes @magicandheaven @keepingitlokiii @captain-asguard @laufeyiison @lostgreekgod @essence-stealer @competitive-dust @i-reblog-fics-i-like @melinaflynn1982 @darkacademicfrom2021 @whatevenisthisxxxxx @funsized-mimi @tristansaurusrex @lokistoriesblog @fandoms4life-always @high-functioning-lokipath
Flufftober Tag List: @morality-the-hufflepuff @skullape-blog @keegansakura @the-simp-of-mischiefff @karuna11 @staygoldsquatchling02 @kakashizgirlfriend @pescadoavocado
(strikethrough means I can’t tag you; message/ask me to be added to a tag list)
🍁 Masterlist 🍁
Loki often felt forlorn and lost. It was a product of his upbringing, he supposed. Though he’d thought to himself he should at least try to get some sleep, the god had ended up a wraith, wandering the Tower all night.
You had enough on your plate, he shouldn’t bother you with his problems. Even as he thought that, he heard your voice in his head, telling him you’d always be there for him, not to bottle things up. Yet, he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to share. Either way, he still wanted to be with you.
“Darling?” he called, walking into your room, having used the code. “It is me. Are you free?”
“Right in here, my love,” you called from the sitting area. “What’s up?”
He took in your form, laying on the floor with Hot Chocolate under your head. Loki smiled at the memory of winning him for you. He held that in his heart as he sat next to you.
“I am not quite sure,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. He picked at his fingers, and you took his hands in yours to stop him from pulling at the skin. “I just feel weird today.”
“That’s understandable,” you replied, kissing the palm of his hand. “But you’re here. And you’re surviving. And I’m proud of you for that.”
He settled against your chest, considering those words. “You once said you found your home in my arms. My I find mine in yours?”
You hummed, massaging his scalp. “Nothing would make me happier, my love. It’s ok to not always be fighting so harshly… Being gentle with yourself is a way of fighting all its own.”
That he considered too.
“I do suppose. I find it hard, though.”
“That’s ok. Things won’t- can’t change overnight. But you’re working on it. Don’t give up Loki. Please. I’m here.” You held him a little tighter. “I promise.”
Loki didn’t remember falling asleep, but apparently he did, presumably making up for his restless night. He was still in your arms when he woke up, and he was silent for a few minutes. Was it so wrong for him to just relish in this? Never before had he thought that he was worthy of such tender affection. But you? You never seemed to stop showing him he was. How was he supposed to convince himself to ruin that bliss, even if for only a moment, by speaking up?
What was a tender embrace, he wondered, if not a haven? A shelter? What were you if not an angel? Had he passed from the land of the living? Some time ago, he thought he must have; only in a heaven would you care for him so. Yet his chest rose and fell signifying his breath. He was alive. And you were there.
You were holding him.
“I am sorry, my love,” he began, signaling to you that he was awake. “I did not mean to doze off.”
Your lilting laughter danced in his ears. “You have nothing to apologize for, my sweet prince. You need the rest.”
He moved his eyes from where they rested in the crook of his neck, looking into your sparkling ones. “Are you quite certain? I would hate to be a burden.”
“You could never be a burden Loki, I’m sure.” You ran your fingers through his slightly tangled hair, trying to work out the knots. “Besides, I like having you in my arms.”
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