callmehvixie - Tumblr blog

callmehvixie · 1 month ago

Text

A Christmas to Cherish, A Yule to Remember l L. Laufeyson

summary : When tasked with organizing a holiday cultural exchange between Midgard and New Asgard, you face clashing traditions and unexpected connections. To foster goodwill, you plan a hybrid celebration that blends Christmas with Yule, inviting world leaders and dignitaries to experience Asgard's unique customs. However, hosting off-worlders, especially a skeptical Loki, proves challenging. His sarcasm only more adds tension as sparks begin to fly between you, testing your growing connection. As Yule and Christmas traditions collide, an unexpected kiss under the mistletoe might just be the season's most surprising twist.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, cultural clashes, emotional vulnerability, sarcastic banter, mild angst with eventual heartwarming fluff, some hurt/comfort, teasing, suggestive flirtation, references to holiday traditions, references to norse lore and traditions.

word count : 18.3k

author's notes : Ho ho ho! You didn’t think I would pass up the chance to write an Asgardian Christmas story, did you? I admit, I may have gone a bit overboard with this fic. What can I say? Santa’s spirit inspired me greatly. Well, this and jschlatt's christmas album.

Like my first ever Loki fic, this is loosely connected to the A Tales Of series (though in an AU way?) but can definitely be read as a stand-alone. This narrative is somewhat like a Hallmark movie, but let’s be honest: who would turn down a feel-good story, especially featuring our dear god of mischief?

As Gossip Girl once said, have a holly jolly Christmas, xoxo.

(ao3 version)

The snow-dusted village of New Asgard glimmered under the pale light of a crisp winter morning. Nestled along the rugged Norwegian coast, the settlement was a patchwork of old-world Asgardian charm and Midgardian practicality. Wooden houses stood sturdily against the biting wind, their roofs lined with faint traces of frost. Small boats bobbed gently in the harbor, and the faint hum of activity filled the air as Asgardians went about their lives. For you, this place was no stranger—it felt like stepping into a world both ancient and familiar, a realm that had become something of a second home.

Your arrival this time lacked the fanfare of your first visit. You stepped out of the rumbling helicopter onto the cobblestone square, the crunch of your boots against the frosty ground drawing a few curious glances from passersby. You adjusted the scarf around your neck, the chill of the air biting your cheeks as you scanned the familiar faces awaiting you. Your attire was both practical and stylish: a dark wool coat cinched at the waist accompanied by equally dark thigh stockings and combat boots, a deep burgundy scarf, and black gloves to ward off the cold.

Ever the picture of poise and authority, Brunnhilde stood at the forefront, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She wore a sleek leather jacket lined with fur, a modern touch to her otherwise warrior-like appearance. Beside her was Thor, his golden locks catching the sunlight as he waved enthusiastically, clad in a thick knit sweater that somehow managed to look regal, and slightly behind them, Loki, who looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Dressed in a dark green cloak over his tailored Asgardian tunic, his expression was one of perpetual exasperation.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite Midgardian diplomat,” Brunnhilde called out, her voice carrying easily over the chatter of the square. “Welcome back, sweet cheeks.”

“Favorite? Or just the one who causes the most trouble?” Loki quipped, his tone dry as he adjusted his green-and-gold cloak. His sharp eyes lingered on you momentarily, taking in your wind-flushed cheeks and bright smile.

“Missed you too, Mischief,” you shot back with a grin, brushing past him to greet Brunnhilde with a brief hug.

Thor clapped a hand on your shoulder, nearly knocking you off balance with his exuberance. “It’s good to see you again, Lady [Y/N]! Come, you must be freezing. We’ve prepared a feast worthy of a returning friend.”

“I’m sure it’s as subtle as ever, big guy,” you teased, raising a brow. As you followed them towards the grand longhouse, you turned to Thor, a hint of curiosity in your eyes. “I thought you’d be off-world with the Guardians of the Galaxy. What brings you here?”

Thor shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Even the god of thunder needs a break, and what better place to rest than home? Besides, someone has to make sure these two don’t kill each other.”

“That’s reassuring,” you said dryly, earning a chuckle from Brunnhilde. “But I’m not here just for feasts. There’s a little diplomacy to be done too, remember?”

The newly appointed Allfather led the group toward the longhouse that served as New Asgard’s central hub. “We wouldn’t dream of letting you forget your duties. Though, knowing Thor, he might try to bribe you with ale and roasted boar.”

“Would it work?” Thor asked, grinning as he held open the door.

Inside, the longhouse was warm and inviting, its timber walls adorned with carvings that told stories of Asgardian history. Intricate designs of Asgardian history and the nine realms stretched across the beams, illuminated by the flicker of firelight. A large hearth roared at the center of the hall, its heat radiating outward and mingling with the smell of spiced mead and freshly baked bread. You let the warmth seep into your bones, feeling a sense of comfort you rarely found elsewhere.

You took a seat at the long wooden table, its surface polished to a high shine, the grain of the wood still bearing marks of its Asgardian craftsmanship. As you settled around the long wooden table, the conversation shifted naturally, the camaraderie among them making you feel like part of the family.

“We’re honored you could join us again,” Brunnhilde said, pouring you a cup of mead. “Especially so close to your Midgardian holiday—what is it called again? Christmas?”

“That’s the one,” you confirmed, taking a sip of the sweet drink. “It’s a huge, worldwide deal here. Lights, trees, gifts, food—basically everything Thor loves, but with more glitter.”

Thor laughed heartily. “Glitter sounds like a fine addition to any celebration!”

“Hardly,” Loki muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. “Leave it to Midgardians to turn a perfectly good winter solstice into a gaudy spectacle.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, leaning forward with a playful smirk. “You’re telling me Asgardians don’t have their own version of an over-the-top winter celebration?”

Loki exchanged a look with Thor, who chuckled sheepishly. “We do,” the blonde admitted. “It’s called Yule. But it’s not quite as… excessive as your Christmas. It’s more about tradition—feasting, storytelling, honoring the turning of the seasons. We celebrate every five years, given our longer lifespans.”

“Every five years?” you repeated, your brows lifting in surprise. “That’s… really long and sad to hear.” You mulled over the information before your eyes lit up as you sat straighter, as if struck by lightning. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. The United Nations and New Asgard have been strengthening ties through mutual aid, cultural exchange programs, and even security. But diplomacy shouldn’t just be treaties and meetings—it needs moments of connection. What better way than inviting emissaries from Midgard to experience Yule with you?”

Thor beamed, slapping the table. “Now that’s an idea worthy of Asgard!”

Loki’s scoff was almost immediate. “Ah yes, because what we need is another excuse for Thor to hang glittering baubles everywhere.”

“Don’t tempt me, brother,” Thor replied, his grin widening.

Ignoring Loki’s grumbling, you pressed on. “I’m serious. Think of it: world leaders, ambassadors, and cultural experts all coming together to witness your traditions while sharing ours. It’s symbolic—a reminder that Earth is now your home too. It’ll also facilitate recognition of your country’s borders from the neighboring countries, and God knows how much you need it for the UN to get off your asses.”

Brunnhilde nodded thoughtfully. “It would certainly help foster goodwill. But it’s not without its challenges. Hosting off-worlders isn’t exactly simple. Though organizing something like this would take effort. And volunteers.”

“I’ll handle the logistics,” you offered. “We’ll make it a hybrid celebration—Christmas and Yule, blending the best of both worlds. Think of it as creating a new tradition for New Asgard. We have three weeks at most for this, I’m sure we’ll manage to come up with something nice.”

Loki let out a soft, sarcastic laugh. “How charming. Perhaps we can also write jingles to serenade these dignitaries.”

Thor, however, seemed genuinely excited. “Brother, you must admit—this could be grand event. We can show Midgard our hospitality while learning from them in return. You should participate with us, especially considering your probation status.” He said brightly, clapping his brother on the back.

Loki’s expression darkened immediately. “I will do no such thing.”

“Oh, don't be such a wet blanket,” you teased. “Think of it as a way to get back into everyone’s good graces. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing?”

His sharp gaze met yours, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to crackle. “If I agree to this farce,” he said finally, his voice low and deliberate, “it will not be because you’ve managed to guilt me into it.”

“Of course not,” you replied sweetly. “It’ll be because you secretly enjoy a good challenge.”

Brunnhilde leaned back in her chair, smirking as she watched the exchange. “Well, it’s settled then. [Y/N], you’re officially in charge of Christmas diplomacy. But don’t expect Loki to be helpful.”

Loki sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This will end in disaster.”

“Only if you let it,” you said, your tone light but your eyes sparkling with determination. “Besides, a little festivities never hurt anyone.”

“You’re delusional if you think this will go smoothly,” he retorted, earning a laugh from Thor and a pointed look from Brunnhilde.

As the conversation wound down, you couldn’t help but feel the excitement bubbling inside you. This was going to be a holiday unlike any other—a melding of traditions, cultures, and worlds.

⠀

The royal library of New Asgard was a marvel of timeless craftsmanship and quiet grandeur. Its towering, vaulted ceilings bore intricate carvings of Asgardian myths, the golden threads in their design shimmering faintly under the glow of enchanted lamps. Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves, brimming with ancient tomes and fragile scrolls, stretched upward as if reaching for the heavens. The air carried the faint scent of aged parchment and polished wood, a comforting reminder of centuries of preserved knowledge. Warm light illuminated the dark, ornately carved furniture, casting soft shadows that danced with a gentle flicker. It was a sanctuary of wisdom and serenity—and, at present, an arena of subtle conflict.

You sat at a large, circular table, its surface strewn with papers, notes, and an assortment of books ranging from Midgardian holiday traditions to Asgardian histories. You tapped your pen against the notebook in front of you, glancing across the table at Loki, who looked entirely unamused. He lounged in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, absently flipping through a book as if he couldn’t be less interested.

“This is supposed to be a brainstorming session,” you said, breaking the silence. “Not a sulking session.”

Loki didn’t look up, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “I assure you, I’m doing neither. I’m merely tolerating this… exercise in futility.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “You mean the logistics for what could be one of the most culturally significant events New Asgard has hosted since its founding?”

“Culturally significant?” Loki echoed, finally looking up. His emerald eyes glimmered with amusement, though his tone remained dry. “You’re combining gaudy, Midgardian frivolities with centuries-old Asgardian tradition. Forgive me if I fail to see the ‘significance’ in that.”

“Excuse me—gaudy?” you repeated, mock-offended. “You say that as if Asgardians don’t have a penchant for drama and grandeur themselves. I’ve never seen more divas than you guys, actually.”

Loki smirked but said nothing, instead closing the book he had been flipping through with an exaggerated snap. He gestured to the pile of materials on the table. “Very well, enlighten me. Which Midgardian traditions are we meant to subject ourselves to this time? Ugly sweaters? Marshmallows floating in heated milk?”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “First of all, ugly sweaters are iconic. Secondly, you can’t tell me that enchanted ale or Thor’s thunderous feast presentations aren’t Asgard’s version of over-the-top. It’s practically the same thing.”

“That’s debatable,” Loki tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I’ll concede that Thor’s idea of revelry is... boisterous. But at least our celebrations have history, tradition, and dignity—unlike your chaotic, candy-cane-laden spectacles.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Oh, sure. Because nothing says ‘dignity’ like smashing a barrel of mead over someone’s head when you’ve had too much.”

He couldn’t suppress a chuckle, the rich sound echoing in the quiet library. “Touché. Still, I doubt you’ll find a single Midgardian festivity that rivals the elegance of an Asgardian Yule feast.”

“Well, then,” you said, leaning forward with a teasing glint in your eye. “Let’s make sure this one does. What do you say we blend the two? Grand Asgardian feast meets Midgardian charm.”

Loki tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as if studying you. “If we are to make this ‘blend’ of yours work, it will require proper execution. I refuse to let Midgardian cuisine overshadow Asgardian delicacies.”

You smirked, folding your arms across your chest. “Who said anything about overshadowing? I’m just saying the two can complement each other—if you don’t insist on being so stubborn about it.”

“I am simply being practical,” he countered, feigning offense at the remark. “Your realm’s fascination with things like marshmallow-topped casseroles is... baffling.”

“Okay, first of all, not every dish is like that,” you retorted with a laugh. “Secondly, maybe you just haven’t had the right Midgardian food. Let me handle it, and you’ll see.”

Loki leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as a smirk tugged at his lips. “Very well. If you’re so confident in your culinary abilities, I’ll leave the Midgardian fare to you. But don’t expect me to lift a finger if it turns into a disaster.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to,” you teased, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “I’ll manage the Midgardian menu and decorations—after all, I’ve got experience with this sort of thing. And you can handle the Asgardian side of things. Deal?”

He regarded you for a moment, his emerald eyes gleaming with intrigue. “Deal. Though I expect nothing less than perfection on your part. Our reputation depends on it.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same to you,” you shot back with a grin.

Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s settled. I’ll curate a feast that embodies the grandeur and tradition of Asgard. You... can figure out how to make your chaotic cuisine somewhat palatable.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your laughter. “Whatever. We need to make this event big enough to fund itself. That means inviting not just the locals but foreign envoys, dignitaries, and even some of the press.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of disapproval crossing his features. “Ah, commercializing a solstice celebration. How very... Midgardian of you.”

You shrugged. “Well, we don’t have unlimited resources. Unless you’d like me to request funds from the treasury—and deal with Val’s budget lectures?”

“Perish the thought,” Loki muttered.

“Exactly,” you said, smirking. “So, we’ll sell tickets for the main events and some of the smaller ones leading up to the big day. Maybe even have booths with crafts and snacks. People love that kind of thing. You’d be surprised how much they’ll pay for something with a story behind it.”

“Fascinating,” he said dryly. “You’ve turned a festival of tradition into a marketplace.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you teased. “It’s just good planning. Besides, someone has to oversee the sales and ensure we don’t turn this into complete chaos.”

Loki arched a brow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “And naturally, you’ve decided that someone is you?”

“Of course,” you replied with mock seriousness. “I happen to be very good at multitasking. I’ll handle the ticket sales, the booths, and the Midgardian side of things while you can focus on maintaining Asgardian traditions. A win-win.”

“Convenient,” he remarked, leaning back in his chair. “You delegate the tedious work to me while you run your little market empire.”

You grinned. “It’s called playing to our strengths, Loki. And besides, don’t pretend you’re not secretly thrilled to have complete creative control over the Asgardian portion.”

Loki chuckled softly, his gaze sharpening with intrigue. “Very well, but if I’m to oversee Asgardian traditions, you’ll have to prepare yourself for customs far richer—and far more theatrical—than your quaint Midgardian charm.”

“Like what?” you challenged, leaning forward.

“For instance,” he began, his voice slipping into a storytelling tone, “the Wild Hunt. A tradition led by Odin himself, where ghostly riders swept across the skies in search of lost souls. It’s a spectacle of power, mysticism, and awe. Imagine recreating it, with shadowed steeds and ethereal warriors galloping through the night.”

You blinked, your expression shifting between amusement and concern. “You mean you want to reenact something that, if I recall correctly, terrified Midgardians for centuries? Sounds... subtle.”

His smirk widened. “Subtlety is overrated. The Hunt would remind everyone of Asgard’s grandeur, a symbol of tradition and strength. Besides, it’s far more engaging than watching mortals sing around a fireplace.”

“Oh, speaking of fireplaces,” you interjected quickly, “what about the Yule log? That’s one tradition I can get behind. A cozy fire, some mulled ale—it’s charming.”

Loki rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “The Yule log is passable at best, but it pales in comparison to the Wild Hunt’s grandeur. Imagine thunder rolling in the heavens, spectral figures cutting through the sky, and Odin’s name whispered in awe.”

“Yeah, because holiday cheer is guaranteed by scaring the wits out of everyone,” you replied, crossing your arms. “How about this—we tone it down? Maybe we could turn the Hunt into something interactive, like a quest. A game for everyone, where they follow clues and complete challenges to ‘join’ Odin’s riders or uncover their secrets. It keeps the mystique but makes it fun rather than terrifying.”

Loki tilted his head, considering your suggestion. “An interactive quest... intriguing. It could preserve the spirit of the Hunt while appealing to the masses. But I insist on weaving in Asgardian lore—stories of valor, wit, and cunning—so it isn’t entirely watered down.”

“Fine by me,” you said with a grin. “And while you’re at it, I’ll make sure the Yule log has its rightful place. Even if it’s not as ‘grand’ as the Hunt, some traditions are worth keeping simple. Maybe the quest could end with everyone gathering around the fire to share stories and rewards.”

Loki gave you a sidelong glance, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “If we must. But I reserve the right to oversee every detail of this quest. If it fails, it’ll be because of your Midgardian ‘simplicity.’”

You rolled your eyes. “Speaking of Midgardian traditions, what about something for the children? Maybe they could write letters about their wishes for the new year. It’d be a way to honor the spirit of giving—and maybe a subtle nod to Odin. After all, he was considered a Santa-like figure back in the day.”

Loki’s expression darkened slightly, his teasing smirk fading. “A ‘Santa-like figure’? Is that how you choose to remember the All-Father? As some mortal caricature who doles out trinkets?”

You softened your tone. “It’s not about reducing him to that. It’s about creating a memorial that’s accessible to everyone—something heartfelt for the people, especially the children.”

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the table. “Children don’t need to write frivolous letters when they already have the tradition of storytelling. It was one of the few times we, as a people, passed down something meaningful. Stories that carried wisdom, courage, and strength.”

You noticed the melancholic edge to his voice, the faraway look in his eyes. “You miss it, don’t you? The way things used to be.”

Loki didn’t respond immediately, his fingers tracing the edge of a page in one of the books. “Asgard was flawed, but it was home. These traditions... they’re all fragments of a life we can never fully restore.”

You reached across the table, your hand brushing his. “Then let’s make sure those fragments shine as brightly as they can. We might not be able to bring back everything, but we can honor what mattered—and maybe even create something new along the way.”

His gaze lifted to yours, a flicker of gratitude softening his features. “You’re unbearably persistent, you know that?”

“And you’re unreasonably dramatic,” you replied with a teasing grin, leaning back in your chair. “Now, about those stories...”

You went on like this for nearly the entire evening, your playful banter echoing through the quiet halls. One idea led to another, each suggestion sparking either spirited debate or begrudging agreement, until most of the tasks were neatly divided between you. Somewhere along the way, it turned into a friendly competition—Midgardian ingenuity versus Asgardian grandeur. Loki, ever the perfectionist, declared that his half of the event would be a masterpiece of tradition and elegance, while you, with a teasing grin, promised to bring charm and creativity to yours. By the end of it, your rivalry was set, and the stakes were clear: whoever’s contributions won the most admiration during the celebration would earn the undeniable right to gloat.

Three days after the council meeting, New Asgard had been buzzing with excitement. Word of the upcoming celebration spread like wildfire, and the entire realm was invested in the planning. Everyone—from the youngest child to the oldest elder—had some part to play in bringing the festivities to life. The atmosphere was electric, filled with anticipation for the grand feast, the traditions, and the merging of Midgardian charm with Asgardian grandeur. The excitement was contagious, and for a brief moment, the people of New Asgard felt united in their mission to make this event unforgettable.

With only two and a half weeks left to pull everything together, things seemed to be running smoothly. The decorations were coming along, the entertainment had been secured, and the Midgardian food vendors had been booked. However, the first hiccup came when you checked in with the cooking team about the feast’s food supplies.

You walked into the grand kitchen, where the chatter of the chefs and cooks filled the air, the scent of spices and roasting meats already beginning to mingle in the warm atmosphere. You neared a table where several of the Asgardian head chefs were organizing inventory, noting down large quantities of food on a parchment. You could already smell the fragrant aromas of roasting meats and simmering stews. You had heard murmurs of excitement as they prepared the grand feast. However, when you glanced over the inventory list, your stomach dropped.

“Ah, my lady, good to see you,” said Thorvald, the head of the Asgardian cooking team, a stocky, broad-shouldered man with a booming laugh and a fondness for rustic dishes. “We’ve made sure we have plenty of meat, and the roasts are looking excellent for the feast. Odin Allfather, bless his soul, would’ve approved of this spread!”

You scanned the numbers on the parchment and furrowed your brow. “This is... a lot of food, Thorvald. Too much, in fact. The quantities are well over the planned budget.”

“Ah, you worry too much, my friend!” Thorvald chuckled. “We want to give the people of New Asgard a true taste of our heritage, yes? We shall not scrimp on food—especially not when it’s for such an occasion!”

“That’s the problem, Thorvald,” you sighed. “We don’t have the funds to support all of this. I was told that the Asgardian part of the menu has far exceeded the budget we allocated for food. It’s going to require cuts—somewhere. And we can’t afford to cut corners with Midgardian elements just because the Asgardian offerings are more expensive.”

Thorvald blinked in surprise. “Cut some of our dishes? That is... not an easy thing to ask of me, my lady. I’ve spent weeks perfecting these recipes for the feast. These dishes are the soul of Asgardian culture!”

“I’m aware of that,” you replied, your tone strained. “But we have to balance the budget. You can’t expect the Midgardian side to be neglected. I’m going to have to speak to Loki about this.”

You left the kitchen with a heavy heart, your mind racing as you made your way to the main hall. As you passed through the stone corridors, you wondered who had approved such a large quantity of food. You assumed it had to be Thor—he had always been more enthusiastic about showcasing Asgardian culture, after all. But when you entered the hall, you spotted Loki deep in conversation with a few council members—Thrain and Freya. That’s when it hit you.

Of course. Loki.

Your steps slowed as you approached the trio. Loki glanced up as you neared, his usual sly smile spreading across his face. “Ah, darling, what a pleasant surprise. How are the preparations coming along?”

“Mischief,” you said, keeping your voice steady, “I just checked the food inventory. You’re over budget. The Asgardian portion alone is far too much. We’re going to need to cut back on something.”

Loki’s grin widened, though there was a glint of something almost mischievous in his eyes. “And what exactly is the problem?”

“You’re blowing the budget,” you said bluntly. “The quantities are ridiculous. You’ve put us in a bind, Loki. I can’t go back to the Midgardian vendors and explain that their share of the food is being cut so we can accommodate your... extravagance.”

Loki’s smile never faltered, and he leaned in slightly, as if savoring the moment. “Everything is permitted when it comes to Asgardian feasts, don’t you think? I had to make sure our food was sumptuous. If we’re going to impress our guests, we must do it right.”

You blinked, incredulous. “You did this? I thought it was Thor who went overboard with the food. But you—you—decided this was appropriate?”

“Indeed,” Loki replied, his tone light, yet his eyes sharp. “Thor is far too busy with other matters. He’s off delivering invitations to the world leaders. Someone had to make sure the Asgardian side was flawless.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up. “Loki, I don’t think you understand the issue. This isn’t just about impressing people. We have to balance both sides. If the Asgardian dishes are more expensive, we’ll have to trim something else to stay within budget.”

Loki’s expression hardened slightly, though he kept his composure. “I already told you—everything is permitted. The Asgardian food will be nothing short of magnificent. If that means cutting a corner somewhere else, so be it.”

“This isn’t a game, Loki!” you snapped, your patience thinning. “We agreed on a budget, and I won’t let you push the Midgardian side aside for your grandiose plans.”

Loki’s lips curled into a small smirk. “Very well, then. We’ll trim a few corners where it pleases you. But I’m telling you, it won’t be the same. Asgardian feasts are a tradition. And traditions don’t come cheap.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think before you make decisions like this,” you warned, your tone firm. “This is your best chance at redemption, Loki. Either we figure this out, or the entire celebration could be in jeopardy. I won’t let you sabotage everything.”

Loki held your gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, he gave a barely perceptible nod. “Fine. I’ll speak with Thorvald and see where we can adjust things. But don’t think this is over, [Y/N]. You’re too concerned with rules and budgets for your own good.”

“Rules and budgets keep everything in line,” you countered. “Without them, chaos follows. Just remember that when you try to pull off another stunt like this.”

With one last look, you turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving Loki standing with a sly smile, no doubt enjoying the brief conflict. As you left the hall, you knew the next few days would be even more challenging. But one thing was certain—you wouldn’t let him derail the celebration, no matter how much he tried to push his agenda.

⠀

It had been a few days since the food fiasco, and you had hoped the worst was behind you. Yet, when it came to the holiday festivities, a new challenge emerged. You had been put in charge of the decorations, a task you had anticipated would bring joy, but you hadn’t expected the clash of cultures to be so pronounced.

The Asgardians, with their love of grandiose displays, had created decorations featuring intricate carvings, golden accents, and shimmering lights. The Midgardians, on the other hand, had opted for a more homey approach: a mix of soft pastels, tinsel, and small handcrafted ornaments. It was a cacophony of styles that left the hall looking more like a battlefield than a festive wonderland.

You stood in the center of it all, rubbing your temples in frustration. There were a few standout pieces—like the Runestone Ornaments, which you had suggested to add a touch of Asgardian culture. The beautifully carved runes for good luck and blessings were meant to bring harmony, but they were far too overpowering against the gentle hues of the Midgardian decorations. Some of the Asgardians had even insisted on sun-shaped ornaments to bring a sense of warmth and light, while others had complained that they clashed with the more subdued Christmas tree lights.

But the real problem didn’t come until you began unpacking a box of mistletoe. You had seen the tradition in Midgardian homes and thought it would add a charming touch to the festivities. After all, kissing under the mistletoe was a beloved tradition for good fortune, something light-hearted to bring the Asgardians and Midgardians together.

You hung the first mistletoe up near the doorframe, stepping back to admire your handiwork. That’s when it happened.

Asgardians walking by froze in their tracks, staring wide-eyed at the sprig of mistletoe hanging innocently overhead. A few of them stiffened, exchanging uncomfortable glances. The tall Asgardian warrior and member of the council, Thrain, quickly turned and muttered something under his breath, visibly distressed.

“What’s going on?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“You... My lady, you’re hanging that?” Thrain asked in a low voice, his expression grim. “You do know what it means, don’t you?”

You blinked. “The mistletoe? Yeah, it’s a tradition where I come from. You kiss under it for good luck and good cheer during the holidays.”

Thrain’s face turned pale, and a few of the others stepped back cautiously.

“Bad luck, Lady [Y/N],” Thrain said with a sigh. “That’s not just a decoration. It’s a symbol of misfortune in Asgard.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Misfortune? How can a sprig of mistletoe be a symbol of misfortune?”

Thrain glanced around as if to make sure no one else could overhear. After a moment, he leaned in closer to you, his voice lowering. “It’s a long story... but the mistletoe reminds us of an event that happened many centuries ago. It all goes back to a farce Prince Loki pulled on one of our greatest commanders, Balder the Brave.”

You furrowed your brow. “What happened?”

Thrain glanced around again and then began telling the story. “Oh, he’s quite the trickster. This one wasn’t as bad as some of his other schemes, but it certainly caused a ruckus. It happened during a festival many years ago.”

You frowned. “I don’t doubt this behavior coming from him, but I still fail to see how a simple prank would create a ruckus over some plant.”

“One evening, during the midwinter festival,” Thrain continued, “Balder, one of our finest commanders at the time, had just returned victorious from a long campaign. Everyone was celebrating in the Great Hall. Prince Loki, as always, couldn’t resist a chance for a little mischief.”

You frowned. “What did he do?”

“He enchanted a sprig of mistletoe, knowing that Balder, proud as he was, would never let anyone get the better of him. He tricked him into standing under the mistletoe, and as the tradition goes, whoever is beneath it must perform a challenge or take on a task.”

You tilted your head. “A challenge?”

Thrain nodded. “Yes. The challenge was a bit harmless—nothing like what you’d expect. But Loki, ever the trickster, made sure it was something unexpected. He enchanted the mistletoe so that whoever stood under it would be compelled to challenge the nearest person to a game of strength, wit, or skill.”

You laughed. “That sounds fun, not dangerous.”

Thrain smiled but his eyes darkened a little. “It was comical... until it got out of hand. Balder, in his pride, ended up challenging Hodr, his brother, to a contest of wit. But because of Loki’s enchantment, neither of them could back down. The game grew more and more intense—what started as a harmless wager soon escalated into a full-on competition, with the entire hall watching them argue over the silliest things. The game became a battle of pride and ego, and by the end, it nearly caused a rift and a blood battle between the two brothers.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A game of pride? Over mistletoe?”

“Exactly,” Thrain said, sighing. “It became a symbol of misplaced warfare rather than cheer. And since then, the mistletoe has been associated with that... heated contest. It’s seen as a bad omen for anyone who might fall into the trap of too much pride or too much competition.”

You frowned, considering the tale. “I didn’t know it had such a backstory. But I still think it’s a nice tradition. It’s about bringing people together, not creating rivalries.”

Thrain shook his head with a smile. “I suppose it’s not all bad. But many of us are cautious when it comes to mistletoe, considering its history.”

You smiled warmly, standing your ground. “I understand, but I’d like to carry on with the tradition. Maybe this time, it won’t be such a surprise. After all, it’s all in good fun. And, it’s a way to bring the Midgardian and Asgardian sides together.”

Before Thrain could say anything more, Loki casually strolled by, his ever-present grin spreading across his face as he overheard the conversation. He looked at you standing beneath the mistletoe, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, well,” Loki drawled, “looks like someone is trying to bring some of Midgard's cheer to Asgard, hmm?”

Thrain narrowed his eyes at Loki. “You’re the one to blame for this mess. You do remember what happened with the mistletoe and Balder, don’t you?”

You looked from Loki to Thrain. “So you don’t mind? I mean, you’re the one who started it.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, a sly grin creeping across his face. “I never said I minded. You’re more than welcome to give it a try, darling [Y/N]. I’ll just be here to watch the chaos unfold.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the grin from spreading. “Don’t act so smug, Loki. I’m just trying to bring some cheer around here.”

Loki leaned in a bit closer, his voice low and playful. “Oh, I’m sure it’s all in good fun. But if you’re going to hang mistletoe, you must be prepared for the consequences. After all, I did start this tradition with a bit of mischief. Who’s to say what might happen next?”

You gave him a pointed look, not backing down. “I’m not scared of a little mischief, Loki. And if anyone’s at risk of causing chaos around here, it’s you, not me.”

Loki’s grin widened, and he took a step closer, leaning in just enough for his voice to drop further. “Ah, but you’re the one daring enough to carry on the tradition, aren’t you? I’m just here to watch... and perhaps enjoy the show.”

Thrain raised an eyebrow at the playful exchange, clearly amused but also a bit wary of what would happen next.

You shot Loki a playful smile. “Well, I hope you found a good spot because everything is going to go as smoothly as a baby’s bottom. Just wait and see.”

Loki chuckled, stepping back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll be watching, indeed. But don’t be too disappointed if things don’t go exactly as planned.”

You didn’t back down. “We’ll see about that. And just so you know... I do like a bit of trickery in my holiday traditions.”

As Loki walked away, still laughing softly to himself, Thrain shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I see now... you’re not just abiding by mere traditions. You’re leading to misconduct.”

You grinned and hung the mistletoe with a flourish. ��Maybe. But it’ll be fun. Besides, what’s a Christmas holiday without a little bit of naughtiness?”

With that, you carried on with your task, hanging the mistletoe, while Loki strolled off, still grinning as he watched from a distance.

⠀

As you walked briskly down the hall with a bundle of fairy lights in hand, you tried to shake off the growing frustration gnawing at you. It had been a long day filled with last-minute details, and the pressure was starting to mount. The grand hall was coming together with decorations now adorning every corner, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. When you passed by the table where Loki was supposed to be organizing the gifts for the prestigious guests, you nearly stumbled.

The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks.

On the table laid haphazardly a collection of... unusual objects. You blinked, certain you had misread the situation.

The gifts were mismatched and meager, hardly fitting for the prestigious guests who would be attending the feast. They were strange—vastly different from anything you could imagine giving at such an important event.

There were intricately carved wooden figures, but they weren’t graceful or beautiful. One was a grotesque hybrid of a raven and a wolf, its features stretched and contorted as if trying too hard to be intimidating. Another was a stone, awkwardly shaped, with jagged edges and no real discernible design. You couldn’t tell if it was meant to represent a mountain, a fortress, or just... a rock.

Then, there were the vials—delicate glass tubes filled with what appeared to be tiny, glittering shards. There was a strange metallic sheen to them, as though they were meant to be potions. But it wasn’t something you could imagine anyone actually using. Certainly not the dignitaries they were expecting.

Your irritation bubbled up to the surface. You couldn’t imagine how these would be seen as a suitable gift, especially not for the dignitaries of Midgard.

“Loki?” you called, your voice a little sharper than you intended as you approached the table.

Loki glanced up from the strange wooden carving he was inspecting. His eyes lit up with that ever-present mischievous gleam, but his smile faltered when he saw the look on your face.

“Darling. I see you’ve found the gifts,” he said smoothly, clearly pleased with his work.

“Yes,” you said, your voice tight. “I have. And I’m... not sure what to make of them.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “What’s wrong with them?”

Your jaw tightened as you glanced from the wolf-raven hybrid to the glass vials, each one looking more out of place than the last. “Loki, these—these are not what I imagined. They’re... off-putting.” You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself but failing. “These are not appropriate for the guests we’re inviting. These are—” you pointed at the grotesque wooden figures “—bizarre.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression shifting from playful to defensive. “I don’t understand,” he said, his tone cold now. “What’s wrong with them? They’re authentic Asgardian craftsmanship. I thought the Midgardians would appreciate such unique offerings.”

“Unique?” you snapped, your frustration spilling over. “These aren’t unique, Loki. They’re strange. Midgardians have a different taste in gifts, and you’re not exactly showing the best of Asgard here. Look at this! This is not something you give a king or queen!”

You gestured toward the awkwardly shaped stone again. “A rock? Really? And these vials—” you picked one up, nearly dropping it when the tiny shards inside shimmered in the light “—what even is this?”

Loki’s expression remained calm, though there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Well, perhaps you Midgardians are more accustomed to giving mundane things like jewels or soft fabrics. But these gifts are symbolic of our realm’s might and history.”

You let out an exasperated breath, rubbing your temples as your stress levels rose. “Loki, gifts are about more than just showing off. It’s about connecting with the person you’re giving it to, about meaning. You can’t just throw a bunch of random objects together and call it a gift. They need to reflect the people you're giving them to—something personal, something that makes them feel seen. Not just... intimidating displays of power!”

Loki’s lips curled into a smirk. “Are you telling me these aren’t worthy of Asgardian guests?” His voice was laced with mockery, but there was a hint of genuine confusion beneath it.

“Not worthy—appropriate,” you shot back, your patience wearing thin. “They need to fit the occasion! We need to think about the people we're giving them to, not just impress them with how ‘mighty’ Asgard is!”

Loki was silent for a moment, staring at the table of strange objects. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—was it doubt? No, it couldn’t be. But something about your words made him pause.

Finally, he exhaled slowly and raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you suggest I do? I am not accustomed to the delicate, personal gifts you Midgardians are so fond of.” He made air quotes around the word ‘personal’, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stood your ground, your voice tight. “For starters? Hand-carved wooden jewelry boxes, a set of hand-blown glass ornaments, fine, elegant cloaks, scrolls with inscriptions of peace and goodwill, or something more symbolic. Something that shows you’ve thought about the person receiving it, not just what’s flashy and ‘impressive’.”

Loki leaned against the table, crossing his arms, his gaze unreadable. “Hm. So, you want me to take all these—” He motioned toward the array of oddities. “And turn them into something bland and safe?”

“I want you to make something thoughtful,” you retorted, your voice sharp. “I’m not asking for ‘bland’. I’m asking you to take a moment and actually think about the people who’ll receive these gifts. Just because they’re from Asgard doesn’t mean they’ll automatically be appreciated.” You were starting to feel more and more on edge, but you didn’t back down.

Loki studied you for a long moment, his lips curling into that familiar, teasing smile. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said with a sigh, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I shall reconsider my gift choices. But I must say, I do find your attitude a bit... aggressive for something as simple as gift-giving.”

You didn’t smile. You glared at him, your chest tight with both frustration and exhaustion. “Maybe it’s the pressure of this entire event that’s making me a little on edge, Loki,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm. “You know, considering I’ve got a million things to handle, and your weird-ass gifts are not helping.”

Loki tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ah, so you admit you’re a little... stressed?” he teased, his voice dropping an octave.

You forced a smile, your tone sharp but controlled. “Stressed? No, irritated, and you’re the reason why.”

Loki laughed softly, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Well, I shall do my best to improve the situation. As you so kindly suggested.”

You shot him a final glare before turning on your heel, muttering under your breath. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Loki, still grinning, watched you walk away, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’m sure you will, darling. You’ll see.”

⠀

The days were growing shorter, and the pressure was mounting. You had barely slept in the past few days, and you were starting to feel the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders. As you stood in the hall, supervising the lights and sound systems for the grand celebration, you couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming anticipation in the air. The event was drawing closer, and there were still so many things to check off your list.

You were adjusting a speaker, ensuring it was positioned properly, when you couldn’t resist. The temptation to hear the music was too much, so you quickly branched the speaker and connected your device. A soft click and then—Christmas carols filled the air. You smiled, satisfied with the sound quality, as the cheerful tunes resonated through the room. But your satisfaction was short-lived.

The room grew suddenly quieter, and a few Asgardians who had been nearby shot you disapproving looks. One of them, a stern-faced woman, crossed her arms and approached with a disapproving glare.

"You... put this on?" she asked, her tone tight. "This is not how we celebrate our Yule. This... commercialized nonsense. What is this Midgardian tradition you’ve chosen to impose upon us?"

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean? It’s just Christmas carols... The song is about goodwill and joy. It’s part of the festivities."

The woman shook her head sharply, clearly upset. “Yule is a sacred time for Asgardians. We do not need the influence of Midgard’s festivals to ruin it.” She turned on her heel, walking away, muttering something about traditions being lost.

The sound of footsteps behind you caught your attention, and soon you were surrounded by a small crowd of disapproving Asgardians. Your stomach sank as their frowns deepened. The more they gathered, the more agitated they became, and soon voices were rising in frustration.

“This is not the way we do things here!” one of them exclaimed. “You can’t just commercialize our holiday!”

“I never agreed to this,” another voice chimed in. “This is a travesty to our sacred traditions!”

Your pulse quickened, and your mind raced, but the words felt like they were getting jumbled in your head. You tried to speak, but the frustration in the room was suffocating. The weight of their disapproval settled heavily on your chest, and you felt the first stirrings of panic. You had tried to make everything perfect, to blend the two worlds, but it seemed you had miscalculated, and now you were drowning in the pressure. You took a deep breath, but it felt shallow, and your hands trembled slightly. This was going wrong. Everything was going wrong. You were failing—again. You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Enough."

Brunnhilde, with her ever-present calm and authority, stepped forward, her eyes scanning the crowd with quiet dominance. The Asgardians fell silent, and though they clearly weren’t pleased, they respected the king's presence. She turned to you, offering a small, sympathetic smile before addressing the group.

“We are guests in Midgard’s customs, and we are also here to celebrate Yule,” the Valkyrie said, her voice firm. “You are welcome to honor your traditions, but we must also respect the customs of the land we are in. Lady [Y/N] meant no disrespect, but there are many ways to celebrate, and it’s important to find balance.” She glanced over her shoulder. “If you have concerns, I am happy to discuss them with you. But for now, let us all move forward in the spirit of the festivities. There is no need to argue further.”

The Asgardians grumbled but eventually nodded, dispersing with a few sideways glares. Brunnhilde turned back to you, her expression softening.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” she said quietly, once the crowd had broken up. “And I know it’s not easy. But you can’t let every little mishap break you down. You’re doing the best you can.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything crash down on you again. “I just... I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Everything’s falling apart, Val. I thought this was going to go well, but—” You paused, your voice catching. “It feels like everything I try only makes things worse.”

The Valkyrie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not perfect, sweet cheeks. Of course you’re going to make mistakes. And you’re in charge of something that’s never been done before—of course, things will get complicated. But you can’t let it get to you like this. You have less than a week to go, and you need to pull yourself together. You can’t keep running to me for help every time something goes wrong. You’re more than capable of handling this.”

You gave her a strained smile, trying to hold back the frustration and exhaustion threatening to spill over. “I’ll do my best,” you said, though your voice was tired, worn. “I just want it to go well. For everyone.”

The Valkyrie's expression softened further, a knowing look in her eyes. “I know you do. You’ve put so much of yourself into this, and it won’t go unnoticed. But if you don’t take a moment to breathe and trust in your abilities, you’re going to burn out. So please, just... take a step back when you need to.”

You nodded, feeling the sincerity in her words, even if you weren’t entirely convinced. “I’ll... I’ll try. Thank you, Val’.”

She gave you a warm smile, her eyes full of understanding. “That’s all anyone can ask for. You’re doing great, even if you don’t feel it. Just don’t forget to keep breathing.”

With a final pat on the shoulder, she turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, a little more grounded. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You had a week left—you could do this. You had to.

It was supposed to be the highlight of the festivities. The Christmas tree. Everyone had been looking forward to it—the centerpiece of the entire celebration. You had spent weeks planning for it. You had found the perfect tree—a towering Asgardian pine, with thick branches that would hold the glowing lights and ornaments just right. It was going to be the perfect way to end all the planning, a moment of beauty and unity.

But when you arrived at the hall that morning, ready to supervise the decorating, you froze in horror. The spot where the tree had once stood was now empty.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rushed through the room, looking everywhere, even behind the columns, but the tree was nowhere to be found. You moved faster, your panic growing.

“Where is it?” you muttered to yourself, voice rising with panic.

You turned the corner and saw a scene that made your stomach drop. The tree was... in pieces. Cut into sections, dragged across the floor, and stacked near the Yule log, ready to be burned. Your breath caught in your throat. The beautiful tree that had taken so long to pick, to care for, was now destined to be turned into kindling.

You stood frozen for a moment, staring at the pile of branches and needles.

You began to ask around, stopping the first Asgardian you saw. “What happened to the tree?” you demanded.

The person looked confused for a moment before answering, their voice careful. “Oh, the orders came down this morning. The tree was to be cut down and used for the Yule log. It’s been taken to be prepared for the fire tonight.”

Your blood ran cold. “What? No, that was the Christmas tree!” you said, your voice rising in disbelief. “Not for the Yule log. That was for decorating—”

Before you could finish, another Asgardian approached quickly, clearly out of breath. “The treasure hunt,” they said urgently. “It’s gone. It’s disappeared.”

The words hit you like a wave crashing over you. You couldn’t breathe. Your stomach twisted in horror, and your vision blurred as panic surged in your chest. You turned back toward the pile of cut branches and needles, but this time, you couldn’t stop the overwhelming flood of emotions.

“No! No, no, no…” you whispered, almost choking on the words. You couldn’t do this anymore. Your hands shook as you looked from the missing tree to the empty space where the treasure hunt should have been. You had worked so hard on every detail, every tradition. And now it was all falling apart.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized just how much was slipping through your fingers. The pressure, the endless demands, the mistakes you couldn’t control. Everything you had worked for—everything you had poured your energy into—was unraveling before your eyes.

Without thinking, you screamed in frustration, the sound of it echoing in the empty hall.

“This is insane!” you shouted, your voice breaking. Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you fought to keep yourself from completely losing it.

As your outburst rang through the room, you realized a small crowd had gathered. They were watching you, exchanging glances. You could see the looks of confusion, even pity, but it was too much. Too much to bear.

You spun toward Loki, who had appeared in the doorway, clearly having heard the commotion. The sight of him was the last straw.

“You!” you yelled, your eyes blazing with fury. “This is your fault, isn’t it? You’re the one who gave the order to cut down the tree, aren't you?”

Loki didn’t flinch, his expression calm as ever, though his eyes narrowed slightly at your tone. “How kind of you to assume it originates from me,” he answered smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s a tree. It wasn’t going to last anyway.”

“No!” you snapped, your voice cracking. “It was supposed to be the Christmas tree! This was supposed to be the centerpiece of the entire festival, and now it’s—gone! Everything is falling apart!”

Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused by your outburst. “I’m not sure what you’re upset about, darling. It’s just a tree. We have plenty of others.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “And as for the treasure hunt... perhaps it’s just better you move on.”

The words felt like a slap to your already fragile state. You were barely holding yourself together. “You don’t get it! Do you even know about how much effort I’ve put into this?” you cried, your voice shaking with frustration.

Before you could continue, the Asgardian who had spoken earlier came rushing in again, their face full of urgency. “The treasure hunt—there was another problem. The maps and clues were taken. We can’t find any of it!”

You stood there, your mind reeling, your entire body trembling as the weight of everything you had been carrying finally broke through. You were suffocating under the pressure.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, voice barely audible. Your chest heaved as tears began to burn at the corners of your eyes. The anger, the frustration, the helplessness—it all collided inside you, and you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

Loki, standing calmly in front of you, regarded you with a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You need to calm down, [Y/N]. It’s just a few mistakes. We’ll fix it.”

“You don’t get it!” you shouted at him, your voice cracking with emotion. “You’re the one who screwed this all up!” You were shaking now, your entire body trembling from the storm of feelings threatening to consume you. “I’ve been working so hard to make this perfect, and you—you just came in and ruined everything!”

Loki’s calm demeanor didn’t change, though there was a flash of something like annoyance in his eyes. “Enough,” he said simply. “You need a break.”

Before you could respond, Loki encased one of your arms with his hand, and suddenly, the world around you disappeared in a rush of swirling light. The noise, the chaos, the pressure—all of it vanished as you were transported far from the hall, away from the mess.

Thor, who had just returned from handing out the invitations, stepped into the hall, ready to greet the others and take in the progress. His cheerful mood faltered however when he saw the tension in the air. Brunnhilde stepped in front of him quickly, her presence a calming force.

“Thor,” she said softly, “don’t worry. We’ll take care of it. The tree and the treasure hunt will be set right.”

Thor frowned but nodded slowly, trusting her judgment. “What happened?”

“Leave it to me,” She replied with a reassuring smile. “It’s not as bad as it seems. Just give us a little time, and everything will be in order.”

Thor sighed, his face softening. “Alright. Just... make sure everything is alright.”

The valkyrie gave him a firm nod. “It’ll be fine. We’ll handle it.”

⠀

The sudden rush of magic had barely settled when your power surged inside you, raw and untamed. Your emotions, a swirling storm of anger, frustration, and fear, acted like a catalyst, and without warning, your armor materialized around you—jagged and radiant, the energy radiating from you like a tempest.

The environment was eerily quiet, isolated from the hustle of the main celebration preparations. The corner they were in was a secluded stretch of rocky outcrop nestled between tall, jagged trees that seemed to protect the area from view. The ground beneath them was soft with moss and small, scattered leaves. A few low stone walls were partly overgrown with ivy, adding to the sense that this was an untouched space, perfect for moments away from the prying eyes of others.

Your frustration boiled over. “You!” you screamed, pointing an accusing finger at Loki. “This is your fault!” Your voice was raw with rage, and the air around them crackled with your energy as you lunged at him.

Loki blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden eruption of power. He barely had time to react before you lunged at him, your armor glowing with destructive energy. “I told you to take it seriously!” you yelled, your voice hoarse, as you swung an energy-charged fist toward him.

Loki, still calm despite your fury, sidestepped the attack easily, but he wasn’t expecting the ferocity of your movements. “For Norn’s sake, calm down,” he exclaimed, dodging another strike, his voice measured. “You’re losing it!”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” you spat, your energy only intensifying. You launched yourself at him again, this time in a flurry of punches and energy blasts that tore through the air. Each time Loki parried, it only made you angrier, and you screamed in frustration, the energy from your armor flaring brighter. The surrounding trees shuddered in response to the intensity.

Loki’s face hardened with determination as he blocked your energy with his seiðr, deflecting your blows. “You need to stop this,” he said, barely dodging another attack. His voice tinged with something more serious than usual. “I know you’re angry, but this won’t solve anything.”

“I don’t care!” you shouted, charging forward again, your movements fueled by raw, uncontrolled power. Each punch you threw left ripples in the air, crackling with auroral energy. The moss beneath their feet quivered under the force, and distant birds flew away in alarm.

Loki, his expression tightening, continued to dodge your strikes, his calm demeanor beginning to crack. “You don’t need to do this. Control yourself, you’re letting your emotions take over.”

“Everything is falling apart!” you yelled back, your eyes blazing with power. “I worked so hard for this and it’s all crumbling! I don’t even know what to do anymore!”

The wind picked up around them, swirling the fallen leaves into a frenzy. Loki's stance grew more defensive, his magic weaving through the air to deflect your blows. “I understand that, but lashing out won’t make it better,” he countered, his eyes flashing as his powers met yours in the charged atmosphere. “Destroying yourself over this won’t help either.”

You recoiled slightly, eyes wild, but there was a flash of uncertainty in them now. Another blast of energy shot from your hands, missing Loki only by a hair. But this time, the force of your attack wasn’t matched by the fury you had before. The anger was still there, but it was beginning to dissipate, replaced by sheer exhaustion.

Your attacks slowed, and you found yourself dropping to your knees, the heavy weight of your emotions finally catching up to you. You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving. The power surrounding you flickered and began to fade as your energy drained. Your armor seemed to collapse in on itself, leaving only your trembling form.

You pulled your knees to your chest, your body curled inwards as your arms wrapped around yourself. Tears started to fall, hot and fast, as everything you had been bottling up poured out in sobs. You didn’t even try to stop them. You felt broken, like all the pressure and expectations had crushed you, and there was nothing left but this overwhelming, suffocating exhaustion.

Loki watched silently, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you. You had been so strong, so determined, and now you were crumpled in front of him, vulnerable in a way he had rarely seen before.

“Darling,” he said softly, his voice lacking its usual edge. He took a step forward, his tone gentler than it had been all day. “I didn’t want you to get to this point. But you’re not alone. You never have to be alone in this.”

You sniffled, your voice breaking as you spoke through your tears. “Shut up. I tried so hard… But—But nothing is going right and—and I can’t keep pretending like I’ve got everything under control.”

You sat quietly, your head resting on your knees as the last remnants of your armor faded away. The hum of the distant festivities was a dull echo compared to the storm of emotions that had overwhelmed you moments ago. Loki remained beside you, his posture relaxed but his eyes never leaving you, watching you carefully as if gauging when to speak.

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if they were both taking a breath, letting the tension of the moment settle before moving forward.

Finally, Loki shifted slightly, lowering himself to sit beside you. He rested his elbows on his knees, his gaze softening as he looked at you, his usual playful demeanor absent for once.

“You know,” he began softly, his voice a comforting murmur in the quiet space between them, “I’ve seen many things in my time—more than most can fathom. But there is one thing about Yule that has always amused me.”

You glanced up at him, the exhaustion in your eyes still clear, but there was a small flicker of curiosity and apprehension in them as you met his gaze. Loki smiled faintly, leaning back slightly to get more comfortable. He seemed to take a breath before he began, his tone easing into something reminiscent of a tale he had long since retold to himself.

“When I was younger, and Asgard still celebrated Yule in its true, ancient form, there was a tradition... one that many might call ‘foolish’ now,” he began, a glint of mischief creeping into his voice. “We used to have a grand competition every year—a Yule feast, yes, but with a twist. It wasn’t just about who could decorate the best or bring the finest gifts. No, it was about who could make the best ‘Yule pudding.’”

You looked at him with a raised brow, unimpressed. “Yule pudding?”

Loki nodded, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he continued. “Yes. It was an Asgardian delicacy, made from all sorts of strange and exotic ingredients—some of which were better left unspoken of. The twist, however, was that everyone’s pudding had to be kept a secret until the feast began. The idea was that the other competitors would be surprised, even horrified, by what they found in their bowls.” He gave you a playful, knowing look. “And trust me, some of the ingredients were... less than appealing.”

You slightly tilted your head up, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. “So... did anyone actually win?”

“Oh, yes,” Loki chuckled, his eyes lighting up with a familiar mischief that was comforting, even in the current tense atmosphere. “But not in the way you’d expect. The prize was a crown, yes, but the true victory came from seeing the faces of the other competitors. You know, nothing is more satisfying than watching the mightiest warriors of Asgard choke down something so vile... all for the sake of tradition.”

You couldn’t help but let out a scoff at the image he painted, the tension in your shoulders easing for the first time that evening. “I can’t believe you used to get people to eat that stuff,” you said, shaking your head, though the corners of your lips twitched into a small smile.

Loki’s grin softened at the sound of your laughter, and he leaned a little closer to you, resting his arm across his knee. “I may have been a bit of a... troublemaker,” he said with a small shrug. “But the real lesson was the spirit of Yule itself—not in the feasts or the gifts, but in the laughter and joy that followed. Even in the worst moments, there is light to be found.” He glanced at you, his voice dropping to a quieter, more serious tone. “Even now, during times like this. What matters is not how perfect everything is, but how we come together, despite it all.”

You stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in, but it was the warm look in his eyes that made your heart settle. It was an understanding you hadn’t expected, and for the first time since the pressure began to mount, you felt a little less alone in your frustration.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your breath steadying. The soft comfort of his presence, the closeness, and the warmth of his energy settled the lingering chaos inside you.

Loki’s posture stiffened for a moment, surprised, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he allowed himself a small smile, his fingers lightly brushing against your forearm as if offering silent reassurance. “Better?”

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment as you nodded, allowing yourself to rest in the calm space he’d created. “Yeah. Thank you, Mischief.” You paused, your voice quieter. “I’m still angry with you, though.”

He chuckled, though there was an apologetic undertone in his laughter. “I know,” he replied softly, his hand finding hers, the contact warm and comforting. “And… I apologize. I should have thought more carefully about how things would turn out, but as you know, I never could resist pushing your buttons.”

You gave a half-hearted smile, your eyes still closed as you rested your head against his shoulder. “Yeah, I noticed that alright. I guess I’ll have to be more careful around you in the future when it comes to important duty stuff.”

“I’ll consider this a compliment,” he said with a sly smirk, though the softness in his tone betrayed his true feelings. “I never did well with being ignored.”

You let out a small laugh, your shoulders relaxing fully now. The tension you’d carried for so long seemed to ease with each word he spoke, each breath he took. “I could’ve never have guessed,” you said teasingly, lifting your head to glance at him. Your gaze softened as you looked into his eyes. “But truly, thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

Loki’s lips curled into a small, sly smile as he looked at you. “I suppose even I, the magnificent and benevolent god that I am, cannot resist the allure of your stubbornness,” he said with a mockingly grandiose tone.

You stayed seated, the world around you hushed, save for the gentle rustling of the snow and the occasional sound of distant footsteps. The snow blanketed everything in serene stillness, creating a peaceful atmosphere that made it feel as though you were in a world of your own, far removed from the stress of the impending festivities.

Loki, still holding your hand without realizing it, gently rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand. The touch was comforting, soothing in its quiet rhythm, as if trying to calm the lingering tension in both of you. You didn’t speak for a while, content in the peacefulness of the moment.

You sat there, side by side, the stillness of the world around you filling the space between you with an unspoken connection. The flakes of snow continued to drift down around you, their quiet dance a gentle reminder of the calm you shared.

You glanced at him, your heart beating a little faster than usual. You weren’t sure if it was the cold, or something else, but your cheeks felt warmer, and when you looked at Loki, he seemed to be feeling the same quiet shift between you. Your fingers remained intertwined, a small, unnoticed act of closeness that neither of you questioned.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both content in each other's company as the world around you continued to fall into the winter stillness. The silence felt comfortable now, and neither of you was in a hurry to leave it.

As the minutes passed, you felt the cold slowly creeping back into your bones, a shiver running through you. You glanced at Loki and saw that his eyes had softened, watching you carefully. He felt it too, the quiet coldness in the air.

Loki, still with his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, looked at you for a moment before speaking again. “I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome here. Let’s get you back before someone else decides to accidentally destroy something.”

You let out a small laugh, this time free of the weight you’d carried for so long. You felt lighter—easier. You stood up and offered him your hand, which he took with an ease that made the whole moment feel just right. “Can’t wait to see what other problem awaits us,” you answered sarcastically, a small smile on your lips.

You had said "us"—a small word, but one that meant a lot in this moment. The connection between you, the quiet bond you shared, felt even more solid in the simplicity of it.

When you finally stood, neither of you noticed how your hands were still clasped together. It was only when you began walking back toward the hall that the warmth of your intertwined hands made you realize just how natural it felt. Neither of you spoke of it, but both knew that something had shifted. Neither of you knew if your cheeks were flushed from the cold, or from something else entirely, but neither of you minded.

The sound of your footsteps blended with the soft echo of the falling snow as you made your way back, the world around you still and serene, leaving you alone in your thoughts and the shared comfort of each other's presence.

The first thing you noticed upon waking the next morning was the soft, golden light spilling through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The warmth was a welcome contrast to the cool air of the hall you’d fallen asleep in, and you slowly stretched, your body sore from the events of the previous day. Your mind was still clouded with memories of the chaos—broken decorations, missing trees, disorganized gifts. A faint sense of panic clawed at your chest, but as you sat up, you realized the quiet hum of activity had returned to the castle.

You wiped your face with the back of your hand, trying to shake off the weight of the previous day’s exhaustion. It was hard to believe it had all come to a head the night before—one misstep after another, and yet, here you were, still alive and breathing.

When you pushed yourself up from the bed and stepped into the hallway, you found it quieter than usual. The usual hustle and bustle of the Yule preparations had faded into the background. Your feet carried you instinctively toward the great hall, but when you stepped inside, your breath caught in your throat. The hall had transformed overnight.

Where there had been scattered remnants of undone decorations and unfinished projects, now there were beautifully decorated trees, glowing with twinkling lights. The large, grand Yule tree, full of shimmering baubles and sparkling tinsel, stood proudly near the center of the hall, towering over the tables. Garlands of holly and ivy draped across every surface, and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread and roasting meats filled the air.

But despite the stunning transformation, your heart still raced. You looked around with wide eyes, trying to take in everything, but it only seemed to make your nerves flare up.

“Where is everything?” you muttered under your breath, mostly to yourself, but the words were tinged with a hint of anxiety. Had they truly fixed everything? The tree looked perfect—tall, regal, and sturdy—but was it the right one? You had been so frantic, you hadn’t even stopped to look at it properly.

Your footsteps quickened, and you moved to the table where the feast had been laid out. Platters of food, colorful and hearty, were stacked in layers of decadent variety. The bread, the pastries, the meats… everything looked impeccable. Had they managed to get everything right? What if something had been missed?

“[Y/N],” came Valkyrie’s voice, drawing your attention. You looked up to see her walking toward you with a teasing grin. “Good morning. I see you’re already making your rounds.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to appear calm as you turned toward her. “I just—I just want to make sure everything’s in order,” you said, though your tone was strained. “The tree... it’s the right one, isn’t it? And the feast—did we get everything? We can’t afford to make any more mistakes.”

The Valkyrie arched a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve got a lot of fretting to do, don’t you? You need to take a break. Everything is done. The tree is perfect, the decorations are all set, and the feast... well, the Asgardian delicacies are sure to make an impression. Relax.”

You hesitated, eyes scanning the room again, but the weight of the last few days, added to your constant sense of responsibility, didn’t allow you to settle so easily. “But what about the gifts? Did Loki handle everything? And the—the treasure hunt?”

Brunnhilde gave a small chuckle. “Oh, the treasure hunt is a... success,” she said, the way she said it making you feel slightly apprehensive. “Though, I must admit, I didn’t expect the children to raid the chocolate stash as thoroughly as they did. I’m still trying to figure out how the entire chest went missing, but they found the treasure in the end, and I think that’s what matters.”

“Wait, the chocolates—” you froze, then sighed. “Of course. Of course, they ate it all.”

She smirked. “At least they found it,” she added with a shrug. “But that’s all handled. You’ve done your part. Now, you can rest.”

“I can’t rest,” you muttered, glancing over at the corner of the hall where a few last-minute touches were still needed. “There’s still the lights to check, and the candles—what if they’re uneven? What if the guests don’t like the decorations?”

The Valkyrie watched you for a moment, her expression softening slightly. She walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder, her voice becoming more serious. “Listen to me, sweet cheeks. You’ve been working nonstop for days. Everything is taken care of. It’s all ready. All that’s left for you to do is enjoy it.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment. You knew you were overthinking everything, but it was hard to shake off the anxiety that had built up during the previous days. You had put so much pressure on yourself, and the idea of something going wrong—again—made your stomach twist.

But Brunnhilde was right. Everything was perfect. You had helped put it all together, and now all you had to do was step back and enjoy it. No more fretting.

With a deep sigh, you finally nodded. “You’re right. I just... I can’t help it.” You rubbed your temples. “I’ll try to rest for a bit.”

She grinned and gave you a playful shove toward the seating area. “Good. Now go take a break. Everything is in order. We’ve got this.”

Your steps slowed, and you made your way to the chairs near the fireplace, feeling lighter with each step. It was hard to let go of the responsibility, but in that quiet moment, with everything taken care of, you could finally breathe a little easier.

As you sank into the warmth of the chair and allowed yourself to close your eyes for just a moment, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The rest of the day would be filled with festivities, joy, and laughter. The Yule festival was coming soon. And this time, you could enjoy it without the weight of worry on your shoulders.

⠀

The royal library had been deemed a perfect spot for the traditional storytelling to take place. The shelves lined with ancient tomes and scrolls seemed to add an air of mystique to the already enchanting setting. Children crowded around Loki, sitting cross-legged on the floor, their eyes wide with curiosity. Even a few of the adults had gathered, drawn in by the sheer magnetism of his presence.

You stood near the doorway, watching quietly from the sidelines. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight before you—Loki, the formidable god of mischief, captivating the room with his magic. His voice was deep and resonant, laced with humor, as he began weaving his tale.

“And so, there I was,” he began, gesturing dramatically with one hand, “standing atop the great peak of Jotunheim, facing down an entire army of giants. The cold bit at my skin, but did I flinch?” He paused, his lips curling into a playful grin. “Of course not. I am Loki, the trickster god, the one who—”

The children erupted in giggles, and Loki’s grin widened. With a snap of his fingers, the air around him shimmered with a faint green glow. He conjured an illusion of a massive ice giant, towering above the group, its icy form glowing ominously. The kids gasped in awe, eyes glued to the spectacle.

“Fear not, young ones!” Loki’s voice boomed as he summoned another flick of magic, and the giant began to shrink. “I wasn’t about to let a little thing like that scare me. With one swift move, I tricked them into thinking they’d already won. I am a god, after all.”

As he spoke, his illusions shifted with every word—mighty warriors battling against beasts, massive serpents coiling around towering castles, and fire-breathing dragons soaring across the sky. The magic seemed to come alive with every flick of his wrist, each new image more mesmerizing than the last.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. It wasn’t just the magic—though it was impressive—it was the way Loki moved, the way he commanded the room. There was something about him in these moments, his charm and wit flowing effortlessly, drawing even the adults in.

His eyes met yours for a fleeting second as he continued his tale, and you felt your heart skip a beat. There was something oddly endearing about watching him perform for the children. He was so... alive. His usual smirk softened in these moments, replaced by a deep sense of contentment as he captivated his audience.

“You know, the trick to deceiving giants,” Loki continued, his voice lowering conspiratorially as the children leaned in closer, “is not in strength, but in the art of persuasion. They believed me when I said the sun had risen on their kingdom. But I knew better. The sun? It wasn’t even close to rising.” He chuckled darkly. “I’ll spare you the details of the real trick, but let’s just say... they learned to always listen to Loki.”

A few of the children laughed and clapped, clearly entranced by the story, while the adults looked on with amused smiles. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at him from your position by the doorway, the warmth of the moment settling in your chest.

“That was quite the tale,” Brunnhilde said, stepping up behind you with a playful grin. “I didn’t realize you were so captivated by Loki’s antics.”

You turned quickly, caught off guard by her teasing. “What?” you asked, your cheeks heating slightly as you tried to hide the warmth spreading through your chest. “I’m just... enjoying the story.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the situation. “Mm-hmm, enjoying it quite a lot, I see. You know, if you’re really into the storytelling, you could always go sit on Loki’s lap, like the Midgardian children do with Santa. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” She smirked, nudging you playfully.

You flushed, rolling your eyes as you tried to cover up your flustered state. “I’m fine where I am, thank you,” you said, though your gaze lingered on Loki at the center of the room. Your heart fluttered a little as you watched him, and you quickly turned away to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

As the story continued, Loki’s hands wove through the air, creating glowing, animated figures with his seiðr. He made the children laugh, gasp, and even squeal with excitement as dragons flew overhead and kingdoms were overthrown. Each tale he told seemed to be tailored to his young audience, but you couldn’t help but notice how the adults—yourself included—were just as mesmerized by him.

You shifted slightly, and your eyes caught on one of the floating illusions—a massive serpent coiling around a castle tower. For a moment, you thought it looked almost... real. You blinked and glanced at Loki, noticing the slight tilt of his head as he continued to spin his tale.

Your heart skipped again.

“So,” The Valkyrie said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “What do you think? Still not interested in the man behind the magic?”

You shot her an incredulous look. “What are you talking about?” you hissed under your breath. “I told you, I’m just here for the storytelling.”

“Sure you are,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, but deep down, you felt a quiet warmth in your chest. Brunnhilde's teasing aside, there was something undeniable about the way Loki commanded the room. You were captivated, and you didn’t think there was any shame in admitting it.

Finally, after several more stories, Loki ended his performance with a dramatic flourish. The children clapped, their cheers echoing through the grand library.

“At ease,” he said, bowing slightly, “I hope you all enjoyed the tale. It’s not every day you get to hear the true version of events, after all.” He gave the children a wink before turning toward the adults. “Now, my dear friends, it’s time to take a break and prepare for the real festivities to begin.”

You stepped back as Loki turned toward you, still basking in the glow of the applause. He caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly. He seemed so at ease in his element—charming, playful, and utterly captivating.

The Valkyrie’s teasing voice broke through your thoughts again. “Looks like you’ve got a fan club to be a part of,” she whispered with a sly grin.

You could only chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, hush."

But as Loki’s gaze met yours once more, you felt something stir in your chest—a connection you couldn’t quite put into words. For all his mischief and tricks, something was endearing about the way he made the world around him brighter, even if it was just for a moment.

⠀

The grand hall was alive with the soft hum of conversation and laughter, but amid the lively atmosphere, you found yourself quietly drawn toward the Yule tree. Its towering branches were adorned with delicate glass ornaments, shimmering ribbons, and lights that cast a soft, magical glow throughout the room. You stood before it, mesmerized by the beauty of it all.

But as you stepped closer, your attention was caught by something unexpected. Among the glittering baubles and tinsel were small, folded papers tied with delicate strings, hanging just like ornaments. At first, you thought they were part of the decorations, but as you leaned in to examine them, you realized they were letters—each one carefully placed with intention. Curiosity piqued, you gently plucked one from the tree and unfolded it.

The first letter was simple, the handwriting of a child: I wish for a pet dragon, even if it’s small. You smiled softly, your heartwarming at the innocent wish. You moved to the next one, your fingers tracing the fragile paper. I wish for snow to never stop falling, so I can play forever. Each note seemed to carry with it a small, pure hope, a wish that felt timeless and untouched by the complications of the world.

You let out a quiet laugh, glancing at another letter. I wish for more sweets at the feast tomorrow. That one made you grin wider—something about it felt so wonderfully human, so relatable in its simplicity.

“You seem to be enjoying those.” The voice startled you, and you turned to find Loki standing just behind you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was a certain softness to his gaze as he watched you, a subtle pride that he didn’t always show.

You raised an eyebrow, still holding the letter in your hand. “What is this? Some sort of... Yule tree tradition I wasn’t aware of?”

Loki’s expression shifted, and he looked almost bashful for a moment. “It’s new. After the storytelling, I thought it might be a good idea for the children to write down their wishes. I gave them the task of hanging them on the tree, hoping the magic of the season might make them come true.”

You blinked, surprised. “You—did you get the children to do this?” You shook your head, your tone softening as you looked at him in a way you hadn’t before. “That’s... a really thoughtful gesture, Loki.”

“I may have a flair for splendor,” Loki admitted with a small shrug, his voice laced with both humility and pride, “but even I can recognize the value of sincerity. Not everything must be a grand display of power.” He gestured toward the tree, his gaze lingering on the little letters. “Their wishes deserved more than a fleeting moment. Why not bind them to the spirit of Yule? A reminder that even the smallest dreams can take root and grow into something magnificent.”

You looked back at the tree, your heart feeling full as you saw the wishes swaying gently in the breeze. For a brief moment, the disarray of the previous days, the stress, and all the uncertainty melted away. It felt peaceful, in a way you hadn’t expected. The simplicity of the wishes, the hope behind them, made everything feel just a little bit more magical.

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” you asked softly, the weight of your words more sincere than you’d meant. “I didn’t expect this side of you. You’re a bit of a softy in disguise.”

Loki smirked, his eyes glinting with a playfulness that only he could pull off, though a hint of warmth remained in his tone. "I am many things, but I would hardly call myself soft. My genius is unrivaled, my charm is clearly undeniable, but I am far from sentimental."

He paused, the playfulness momentarily fading as he regarded you with a softer look. "But even the most enigmatic of gods can have their... moments," he added quietly, his gaze lingering on you before quickly flashing back to his usual impish grin. "Don’t tell anyone, though. It would ruin my reputation."

You tilted your head, your gaze softening as you considered his words. There was something in the way he spoke, something unguarded that made you pause. You gave him a small, knowing smile, your tone teasing but with an underlying sincerity. "I guess you do have your moments of wisdom, after all," you said, your voice warm. "I always thought you were all about grandeur and spectacle, but I guess even someone like you knows the power of the little things."

You leaned in just slightly, your smile still in place, but there was a flicker of curiosity in your eyes. "It’s funny," you mused, your words soft, "I didn’t expect this side of you. I guess we all have our layers, don’t we?"

Loki smiled, a touch of pride in his eyes, but it was a softer, more genuine pride than you were used to. “You’d be surprised how much thought I put into things sometimes.” His voice lowered a little, almost as though he was sharing something personal. “Not everything has to be grand or spectacular to matter. Sometimes, it’s the simple gestures that can mean the most.”

You turned back to the tree, your fingers lightly brushing the edges of the next letter you picked. “This is really special, Loki.” Your voice was quieter now, almost reverent as you took in the sight of all the letters hanging on the tree. “You’ve given them something to look forward to and to believe in.”

Loki stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the tree. “I suppose I’ve learned a few things over the years. Not everything has to be perfect for it to be meaningful.”

As you pulled away from the tree, your eyes lingered on the sparkling ornaments for just a moment longer. You turned to Loki, who was still standing nearby, his hands lightly brushing the branches as if contemplating something deeper. There was a warmth in your chest, a quiet understanding of the thought and care that had gone into making this Yule truly special.

"Thank you," you said softly, your voice full of sincerity. "I don’t think I ever would’ve thought of this. It’s perfect."

Loki glanced at you, his gaze softening. Before he could respond, you stood up on your tiptoes and, without thinking, placed a quick, affectionate kiss on his cheek. His eyes widened in surprise, the briefest of blushes flickering across his cheeks before he masked it with his usual playful composure.

"If I’d known something as small as this would grant me such a delicacy, I would’ve done it sooner," he teased, his voice still carrying the usual mischievous undertone, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something a little warmer, a little softer.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile as you stepped back, your face a little flushed. "Don’t push your luck, Mischief," you replied, the hint of a challenge in your tone.

He chuckled, raising a brow. "Oh, I never push, darling. I simply nudge… gently," he added with his signature smirk returning, as if he hadn’t just been caught a bit off guard by the unexpected tenderness.

As you shared that moment, something unspoken passed between you—an understanding, a shift in the air, but nothing too bold. Yet, both of your hearts seemed to beat a little faster, and the space between you felt just a little more charged than before.

The royal courtyard had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Strings of golden lights intertwined with frosted branches, casting a warm glow across the snow-covered ground. A towering evergreen stood at the center, adorned with shimmering ornaments and glowing runes that pulsed faintly with magic. Tables laden with Asgardian delicacies lined the perimeter, and a faint melody floated through the air, played by an ensemble of musicians stationed near the tree.

As the first portal shimmered open, Jane Foster stepped through, pulling her coat tighter against the chill. Her expression lit up at the sight of Thor, who bounded over with his usual exuberance. “Jane!” he called, his voice booming even in the open air. “At last! Welcome to Asgard’s Yule celebration!”

“Thor,” Jane laughed as he enveloped her in a bear hug. “You’re going to squash me before I even get to enjoy the festivities.”

Before she could say more, another portal opened with a soft hum, revealing a group of familiar faces. Tony Stark was the first to step out, his eyes immediately scanning the scene. “Interesting,” he drawled, tugging his scarf tighter. “Looks like someone’s been raiding the Hallmark aisle. Did you do this, Reindeer Games?”

Loki, who had been leaning casually against one of the pillars at the edge of the courtyard, arched an eyebrow. “Ah, Tin Man,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “I see your sense of fashion is as middling as ever. And no, I don’t sully my talents with mere decorations.”

“Sure you don’t,” Tony shot back, already making his way toward one of the tables. “But I’ll bet you were in charge of the drinks. Let’s see if they’re as pretentious as you are.”

Steve Rogers stepped through the portal next, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He took a moment to take in the scene, a small smile tugging at his lips. “This is… something alright,” he said quietly.

Thor clapped him on the back with enough force to make him stagger slightly. “Is it not magnificent? Tonight, my friends, we celebrate in true Asgardian style! Food, drink, and merriment for all!”

Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton followed close behind, their sharp eyes surveying the courtyard. “This is cozy,” Natasha remarked dryly. Her gaze flicked to Loki. “I’m surprised you’re not sulking in a corner somewhere or plotting mischief.”

“I’m afraid I must disappoint you, Agent Romanoff,” Loki replied smoothly, his smirk just this side of smug. “My mischief is already in motion.”

You, who had been overseeing the final touches on the feast, approached the group with a welcoming smile. “Glad you all could make it, guys,” you said, your breath fogging slightly in the cold air. “I wasn’t sure if Asgardian traditions would be your thing.”

“Oh, traditions are fine, Skittles,” Tony replied, already holding a goblet of mead he’d managed to acquire. “But I’m here for the food. And maybe to see if Frosty over there pulls off anything entertaining.”

Bruce Banner shuffled over, his smile soft and unassuming. “Thanks for having us,” he said. “It’s… nice to get a break from everything.”

As the group began to mingle, the dynamics unfolded naturally. Jane and Bruce struck up a conversation about the science behind the glowing runes on the tree, with Thor chiming in enthusiastically about the enchantments. Natasha and Clint drifted toward the weapons display near the courtyard’s edge, their interest piqued by the craftsmanship.

Tony, meanwhile, found himself circling back to Loki. “So, puny god,” he began, taking a sip of his drink. “What’s the over-under on you pulling some kind of elaborate prank tonight?”

Loki’s lips curled into a slow, deliberate smirk. “Stark, if I were to indulge in such trivialities, you would not see them coming. But I do hope you enjoy yourself tonight. I’d hate for you to feel… out of place.”

You, who had been listening from a few steps away, couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Don’t encourage him, Tony. He doesn’t need the help.”

“Oh, I’m not encouraging him, Tinkerbell,” Tony replied with a grin. “I’m just testing his limits.”

Steve, who had been quietly observing, walked over to Thor and gestured toward the massive Yule log near the tree. “So… what’s the story with that?”

Thor grinned broadly. “Ah, the Yule log! Its lighting marks the official start of the festivities. A sacred moment, my friend. You’ll see soon enough!”

Nearby, Jane sidled up to you, her tone curious. “This is your first Yule celebration, right? How are you holding up?”

You smiled, glancing toward Loki, who was now demonstrating his seiðr for a small group of curious onlookers. The green-hued magic danced in the air, forming intricate shapes that captivated everyone watching. “It’s overwhelming,” you admitted. “But it’s magical. I can see why this means so much to everyone.”

Jane followed your gaze, then smirked knowingly. “And I’m sure a certain dark prince has nothing to do with that sentiment?”

Before you could reply, Brunnhilde appeared, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Oh, she’s smitten, no doubt about it. But don’t worry, sweet cheeks, I’m sure brooding stuff over there will find some way to complicate things before the night’s over.”

“Val’,” you groaned, your cheeks warming.

“What?” she replied with a grin, lifting her goblet. “It’s Yule. A little mischief and romance are practically mandatory.”

The playful banter dissolved into laughter, and soon the courtyard was alive with the sound of merriment as more guests continued to arrive, setting the stage for a celebration no one would forget.

⠀

Soon enough, the air in the courtyard hummed with anticipation as the gathering crowd turned toward the massive Yule log stationed near the towering evergreen tree. The log, carved with intricate patterns of Norse runes and adorned with garlands of evergreen and holly, rested on an iron stand at the heart of the celebration.

Thor stood before it, Stormbreaker gripped tightly in his hand, his broad figure illuminated by the golden glow of the surrounding lights. The faint crackle of his lightning echoed in the air, a promise of the power about to be unleashed. Beside him stood Brunnhilde, her presence commanding as ever, a goblet in one hand and her other resting on the pommel of her sword.

The chatter of the crowd quieted as Brunnhilde raised her hand, signaling the beginning of the tradition. She stepped forward, her voice carrying with a regal authority that silenced even the most boisterous of guests.

“Friends, family, and honored guests,” she began, her tone strong yet warm, “we gather here tonight, under the light of the Yule tree and the vast expanse of the stars, to celebrate the turning of the season and the bonds we share. Yule is not merely a time of merriment—it is a time to reflect, to honor the past, and to look toward the future with hope.”

She raised her goblet slightly, her eyes sweeping across the crowd. “Tonight, as we light the Yule log, we kindle the fire of community, resilience, and renewal. Let this flame burn bright, a beacon in the dark, reminding us of the strength we find in each other. Let it mark the start of a celebration worthy of Asgard’s legacy.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, raising their own goblets in response. Brunnhilde stepped aside with a small, satisfied smirk, gesturing toward Thor.

“Now, who better to light the way than the God of Thunder himself?” she added, her tone laced with humor.

Thor grinned broadly, stepping forward with his usual swagger. He lifted Stormbreaker high, and the skies above seemed to darken just slightly, as though the stars themselves leaned in to watch.

“Let us welcome the light, and may it guide us through this season of joy!” He bellowed, his voice resonating through the courtyard.

With a sharp crackle, bolts of lightning arced from the axe, striking the Yule log with an explosive burst of light. The log ignited instantly, flames leaping to life and casting a warm, golden glow over the crowd. The fire danced and flickered, its light reflected in the awestruck faces of everyone present.

The warmth of the fire spread through the courtyard, both physically and metaphorically, as the crowd erupted into cheers once more. The musicians struck up a lively tune, and the celebration officially began.

You, standing toward the edge of the crowd, couldn’t help but smile in childlike wonder at the sight. The sheer spectacle, the sense of unity, and the magic of the moment were overwhelming in the best way.

Loki appeared at your side, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the scene with a faint smirk. “Thor does enjoy his dramatics,” he remarked lightly, though his tone held no malice.

You glanced at him, your smile widening. “I don’t blame him, it’s tradition,” you replied. “And it’s beautiful.”

Loki tilted his head, his gaze softening as he watched you instead of the fire. “It is,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd.

As the music picked up and the guests began to drift toward the dance floor near the Yule tree, Brunnhilde raised her goblet once more, her voice cutting through the joyous commotion.

“Let the festivities begin!” she declared, her grin wide and infectious.

With that, the courtyard came alive with laughter, music, and the sound of feet moving to the rhythm of the dance. The Yule celebration was officially underway.

⠀

The flames of the Yule log crackled and danced, casting warm golden light over the courtyard. The lively music of flutes, strings, and drums filled the air as the guests, Asgardian and Midgardian alike, joined in the festivities. Around the grand fire and beneath the glittering Yule tree, people swayed, twirled, and laughed in a joyous dance that blurred the line between realms.

You stood off to the side, catching your breath after spending most of the evening immersed in the revelry. Your cheeks were flushed from dancing—both the lively Asgardian traditional dances you had eagerly learned and the familiar Midgardian waltzes that had followed.

Your earlier conversations with the various United Nations diplomats and Midgardian guests had been engaging yet intense, requiring a level of charm and tact you hadn’t entirely realized you possessed. Between discussing Asgardian culture and bridging gaps between worlds, you had barely had a moment to yourself.

Several guests had gone out of their way to compliment you on the gifts they had received earlier in the evening. Each one was uniquely tailored: intricate wooden carvings of Yggdrasil that doubled as ornate keepsake boxes, filled with an assortment of Midgardian delicacies and Asgardian mead, or beautifully crafted quills forged from Asgardian metals, paired with sleek, modern Midgardian ink sets.

You had been stunned by their enthusiasm. The gifts, which you had initially seen in their raw, almost haphazard state under Loki’s supervision, had clearly undergone a transformation. What had once seemed overly extravagant and mismatched now carried a thoughtful elegance, seamlessly blending the traditions of both realms.

Your gaze instinctively sought Loki in the crowd. He must have changed them, you realized, your surprise mingling with an odd sense of pride. He had somehow taken what could have been a garish display and turned it into something meaningful—something that resonated with both Asgardian and Midgardian sensibilities.

Now, as you leaned lightly against a table laden with mulled wine and pastries, you allowed yourself to take it all in. The flickering light painted everything in a magical glow—the Yule tree adorned with shimmering ornaments and glowing letters, the Yule log blazing brightly, and the joyous crowd swaying in a beautiful, chaotic harmony.

You watched as an Asgardian couple paused beneath a sprig of mistletoe, sharing a quiet kiss before bursting into laughter and rejoining the dance. The sight brought a small smile to your lips, though it also sent a flutter through your chest.

“I’m surprised you’re not out there,” Loki’s voice came from behind you, smooth and teasing.

You turned to find him standing just a step away, his emerald-green tunic catching the firelight. He looked every bit the god tonight, regal and effortlessly captivating, though there was something softer in the way his eyes met yours.

“Taking a break,” you said lightly, raising an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, even I need a moment to breathe after dancing with half the delegation and learning to not trip over myself in your people’s traditional dances.”

Loki’s lips quirked into a sly smile. “I’d expect nothing less coming from you. You managed it to make it surprisingly effortless.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “Flattery, Mischief? You’re slipping.”

“Am I now, darling?” Loki replied, stepping closer, his tone low and playful. “Or perhaps I’m just warming up.”

You tilted your head, curious. “And why would you need to warm up?”

Loki smirked, offering his hand. “Because the best dance of the night is yet to come.”

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “I’m not sure I trust you on this one.”

“Wise,” Loki said with a mockingly serious nod, “but not nearly as fun. Come, indulge me.”

Despite your wariness, you placed your hand in his, and he led you toward the center of the dance floor. The lively music shifted into something slower, more melodic, as you joined the other couples. Loki’s hand rested lightly on your waist, his touch surprisingly gentle, as you began to move.

As you swayed to the rhythm, you couldn’t help but glance around the crowd. Your eyes landed on Thor, Jane, and Valkyrie standing off to the side. Thor was grinning broadly, lifting his mug in a mock toast, while Jane stifled a giggle behind her hand. Valkyrie, however, made no attempt to hide her amusement, smirking as she gave you an exaggerated thumbs-up.

You rolled your eyes but felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. “The Justice League is watching,” you muttered, tilting your head slightly toward the trio.

Loki followed your gaze and sighed dramatically. “Of course, they are. Discretion has never been their strong suit.”

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head. “I think they’re enjoying this more than they should.”

“Let them,” Loki said with a smirk, his voice dipping into a playful tone. “We’re far more interesting than whatever ale-induced tales Thor was spinning moments ago.”

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” you said softly as you swayed together, your voice barely audible over the music.

“Am I?” Loki arched an eyebrow, his smirk teasing but his gaze steady.

“You are,” you confirmed. “I know about the gifts—thank you for listening to me, by the way. This… whole thing; this isn’t what I expected from you.”

Loki chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Perhaps you haven’t been paying close enough attention. I’m more than just mischief and chaos, you know.”

As the song came to an end, you felt the faintest tug on your hand. Loki had led you just a step away from the tree, where another sprig of mistletoe dangled from its branches.

You glanced up, realization dawning as you looked back at him. “Seriously? A mistletoe prank?”

Loki’s lips curled into a sly smile, but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze. “Oh, I assure you, this is no prank,” he replied, his voice smooth as ever.

You narrowed your eyes, your arms crossing over your chest. “If this is about everything—about me pushing you into putting all of this together—then you can save the theatrics. I know you probably still want to argue about it, but I won’t engage in some pitiful argument of pride. We both did well.” Your tone was firm, though there was an edge of exasperation beneath it.

Loki’s expression shifted, his usual air of mischief melting into something gentler. “You think I went through all this trouble merely to settle a disagreement?” He took a step closer, his voice quieter now, almost earnest. “This isn’t about proving a point or one-upping anyone. It’s about—” He paused, his gaze steady on yours. “You.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “Me?”

“You, who somehow managed to coax an entire realm into celebrating something most would have dismissed as frivolous,” Loki said, a rare softness coloring his words. “You, who demanded I find meaning in the smallest of gestures, who taught me that joy doesn’t always come in grand schemes or victories but in shared moments like this.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, you were unsure of what to say. Loki took your silence as permission to continue, his hand lifting to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “This mistletoe isn’t some clever ploy or a prank,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “It’s a reminder. A way to say ‘thank you’ for showing me that despite everything, even I am capable of something... good.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your earlier irritation melting away under the weight of his words. “Loki...”

“Now,” he murmured as he brought you closer to him, his gaze dropping to your lips and then back to your eyes, “are you going to kiss me, or shall I be forced to endure yet another smug grin from Thor when he realizes I failed?”

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I am,” Loki replied, his smirk softening into something more sincere as his voice lowered, “and I dare say I’ve been patient long enough. Now, I demand my gift for my good behavior.”

Unable to help yourself, you closed the distance, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was hesitant at first, testing the waters. But as Loki’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your waist, and your fingers brushed the back of his neck, the kiss deepened, warm and unhurried. It was as though the world around you had melted away, leaving just the two of you beneath the gently falling snow, surrounded by the golden glow of the firelight.

The moment stretched, but just as you parted, the sound of raucous cheers startled you both. Loki sighed, glancing over his shoulder to see Thor lifting Jane into the air triumphantly, having spun her around in an exaggerated display of holiday spirit. Jane, laughing but apparently exasperated, swatted at Thor to put her down, which only made the crowd cheer louder.

Loki groaned, rubbing his temple as if pained. “Leave it to my oaf of a brother to ruin a perfectly good moment.”

You laughed, your eyes bright as you leaned in and kissed him again, this time quick and playful. Pulling back, you smiled at him, your voice soft as you said, “Merry Christmas, Mischief.”

Loki’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smile, his eyes alight with something tender.

“Merry Yule, darling.”

⠀⠀

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler .

⠀

dividers © @angelremnants + @cafekitsune .

177 notes · View notes

callmehvixie · 1 month ago

Text

Only Loki could look like a ✨ slut ✨ reading.

446 notes · View notes

callmehvixie · 1 month ago

Text

Dr. Laufeyson

Chapter 19 - At long last

Warnings etc: Loki x female reader au where Lokis a therapist, therapy, flashbacks, smut, swearing, mentions of past trauma later in the fic including abuse both physically and sexually - not explicit detail, 18+. PLEASE tell me if I ever leave anything out x

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

“Oh my god” you groaned feeling your walls stretching to accommodate Lokis hard cock as he entered you painfully slowly. Your eyes teared up as he settled inside of you, breathing bated as he looked down at you. You had imagined this moment before, of course you had but you didn’t expect Loki to, well, be so, big. That night in your kitchen, you were sure Loki had an erection but it seemed it was only a semi.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern evident in his tone as he tried to stay as still as possible. You felt like a virgin again. Nodding your head, you smiled faintly. It wasn’t that you weren’t warmed up, Loki ensured you were, it was that you just wasn’t expecting this.

“Kiss me.” You requested breathlessly.

Reaching down, Loki pressed his lips to yours, kissing you slowly, passionately as his tongue slipped passed yours, entering your mouth. He moved to your neck, kissing you there before you felt him nibbling your earlobe, licking the shell of your ear.

“Do you want me to move?” He asked, kissing your ear. All you wanted was for Loki to never stop whatever he was doing with his tongue. Wordlessly you nodded, eyes closed as you revelled in the feeling before Loki began to move, a breathy call of your name leaving his lips. Unlike when you were a virgin, instantly, his movements felt amazing. You could feel every vain of his cock gliding past your walls as he fucked you. His lips found yours again as they moved against one each other sloppily. You were quickly bucking your hips upwards to meet his as you loudly moaned his name. The sound of your combined moans as well as his balls slapping against your skin filled the room. As your back arched off of the bed, Lokis hand found your back as he pulled you upwards, knees bent on the bed with his legs open as he pulled you on top of him, helping you to position yourself above his cock. The new angle quickly had you gripping his shoulders as you bounced on top of him, legs wrapped around his torso. Your chest was against his as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you flush against him. You felt so close, so connected.

Your head fell backwards as Loki continued thrusting up into you, holding you so tenderly. This felt overwhelmingly intimate, almost unfamiliar. The pleasure had exceeded simply lust, this was rapture. In this moment you felt so safe, so worthy, so loved. This felt like love. Something sacred between two soulmates. Lokis hands roamed over your body, it felt warm. This was it, this was the feeling you craved, the intimacy your body yearned for, the affection your soul sought.

Your lips found Lokis again, kissing him fiercely as if you were thanking him, claiming him. This was a feeling you wanted, no, needed again and you only wanted to experience it with him. You felt yourself quickly growing closer towards your climax but you didn’t want this to end.

“Are you close baby?” Loki spoke against your lips, feeling your walls clenching around him as your breathing became even more ragged, movements disoriented.

“Yes, yesss.” You cried out “donttt stoppp.” You begged.

Loki helped guide your movements as he took you to completion, reaching his own orgasm in the process. Watching you come undone was euphoric in itself. He wondered how one being could be so seraphic. He continued holding you as you wrapped your arms around his back as if hugging him, legs still around him. He didn’t want to pull out of you, too content with both your positions. This was perfect. His eyes closed feeling you peppering kisses across his neck from where your head rested, nestled into it. No, perfect was an understatement.

When you finally raised your head, Loki held your chin as he looked into your eyes for a few moments in silence. You looked back at him, watching as his eyes darted across your features as if mapping your face before he smiled.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly.

“Yeah.” You replied, matching his smile.

“Would you like a shower? I left out some cloth—”

Cutting Loki off, you kissed him gently, his hands finding the sides of your face as you did, kissing you back.

“I’d love a shower thank you.” You smiled once you broke the kiss.

When you both finally broke apart, it was only to reunite in the shower where Loki made you cum again before you cleaned one another. Loki wrapped you up in a fluffy towel before you exited the shower. Handing you one of his shirts, he decided on wearing some pyjama bottoms, strategically placing them very low down his v line as he noticed you checking him out.

“Like what you see?” He winked.

“I prefer what’s underneath more.” You grinned from his bed causing him to laugh.

“Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hummed.

“What would you like to eat?” He asked, walking towards you.

“I can’t say you can I?” You giggled. “I really don’t mind. Noodles?”

“I can cook you know.” He stated, leaning down to kiss you “I’m a great cook.”

“Alright, surprise me then.” You smiled against his lips before kissing him again.

Tags:

@michelleleewise @lokisprettygirl22 @mischief2sarawr @eyesbluelikethetitanic @lokiprompts21 @howdidurhammergrowchris @consistentreader578 @mcufan72 @lokixryss @jaspearl31 @lucylaufeyson3 @emma-laufeyson @deathlydelusion @multifandom-world8 @lulubelle814 @ppartridgee @geekwritersworld @kats72 @123forgottherest @lokisninerealms @lokisgoodgirlbackup @mochie85 @vickie5446

174 notes · View notes

callmehvixie · 1 month ago

Text

Temptress // a loki x reader oneshot

A mere, unwilling servant of Asgardian royalty catches the eye of the youngest prince. Alone in the dead of night, face to face with the man you can’t stand, can lead to an awful lot of trouble. Your duties span to no end, and oh, doesn’t he know it.

EXPLICIT // some good old fashioned mind numbing smut. for funsies.

➳ word count 8774

if you know me in real life, no you don’t

"Of course, my king" you mumbled the words that registered as nothing more than static in your brain, a robotic echo that rolled off of your tongue with perfect ease. A response that was programmed into your frontal lobe.

Another cup of wine for King Odin, the gold glass shimmering against the light that poured into the dining hall. He thanked you, the same rehearsed response just as your own, there was nothing genuine about it.

With a nod of his head you scurried back to the sidelines of the hall, wishing with all of your might that you would disappear into the walls.

Living your life as a servant of Asgardian royalty was not on your to-do list, you had hoped for better. Though you didn't have much choice in the matter, and grasped at the belief that one day you would be given your due and blessed to be on your way. You could not leave on your own free will, the King had to grant you that privilege.

A raise of a glass from the youngest prince, Loki, dragged your train of thought out of the daydream of a life beyond the confinements of the palace walls. You met eyes, faltering for a moment, tightening your grip around the tumbler of wine. It was only when he slightly tipped the glass to the side and raised a raven brow that you were flung to reality.

He did not once break your eye, his stare crystallising every cell in your body. Tiptoeing over to him mimicked walking across a minefield, or as if at any moment the ground were to open and you would be plunged into a pit of snakes.

You swallowed, completely unnerved when his head arched up when you were beside him, he could sense the terror, nervous sweat seeping from your pores.

"You're scaring the poor girl. Take no notice of him," Thor cut in, as he usually would. He fought your corner when Loki made you nervous, it wasn't uncommon knowledge that putting you on edge ignited every delight within him. And it seemed to only be you.

"Of course, my prince" you replied to Thor but you didn't release the stare of his brother. This time though, the practised response cracked under the fragility of your tone, barely keeping yourself together. Rising to the bait. You did every time. That's what he liked about you; no matter how desperate you were to flee you still succumbed to every command.

"Be a good girl and hand me a grape, won't you?" Loki said as you filled his cup, forceful yet so gentle, but you knew he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. You noticed Thor tense and all eyes were on you, nobody was going to rescue you.

The same response again, paired with a pained gracious smile. It was your life to serve them, and you were reminded daily that it was nothing but your pleasure to do so. His smirk made you sick, along with his piercing emerald green eyes scanning your frame as you bent over across the table. Despite the sheer disdain, an icy pinch of excitement stirred in your core.

Plucking a singular piece of fruit from the vine, you delayed when he opened his mouth instead of his hand. The same questioning raise of a brow greeted you when you halted, appalled by the cheek - no - the utter impertinence.

Still the hall remained silent, and you were sure that the three men could hear your thudding heartbeat, cheeks almost the same shade as the ruby red apples that sat in the fruit bowl at the centre of the table.

You swallowed, throat a barren desert, and with an unsteady hand you held the grape to his open mouth. Loki leaned into your touch and welcomed it graciously, still looking nowhere but at you, into you. His lips twisted into a sickening grin, strips of pearly white teeth on full display.

He looked you up and down again, a wild animal examining its next kill, before moving his watchful eye over to his brother whose jaw was clenched unbearably tight.

"That's quite enough," Odin commanded, raising a hand and glaring down at the young prince. You turned to him, and with a nod of his head you were excused. Thank stars. Your feet moved through the grand dining hall quicker than you could register, only noticing that you still had the tumbler of wine seized in your sweaty palms when you were clear of the gaze that made your chest heavy.

A sigh of relief, immediately feeling lighter when the door to your quarters closed behind you. Heat prickled the back of your neck, the aftermath of adrenaline that was now wearing off liquefied your legs. In the comfort of your own room, you re-lived the moments that had only just passed.

In your deepest of hearts, you couldn't deny that a small part of you liked it. His stare devouring you, the stealing of glances at one another only to snap your eyes back to the floor when he grinned.

Maybe you had become used to it, the horrifying feeling of having your every move tracked in his presence becoming a comforting second nature. You even dreamt about it, oftentimes startling bolt right up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat with your legs pressed firmly together.

If he could see inside your mind he wouldn't believe his luck, but little did you know, Loki knew all too well how much you loved the attention. As much as you fought it off, as much as you denied the longing that stirred in your belly, the swirling ever growing pit of primal yearning shone through at every confrontation.

You settled in bed, stripping off your clothes into an off-white slip. Usually a shower was needed before your head nested into the soft pillows, but you needed this day over with. With the rising of the morning sun, you could start over again and regain the courage to step out and start your duties. As if you required a daily emotional cleanse from royalty.

But more often than not, tonight being nothing out of the ordinary, you awoke with a gasp and an aching head. Your skin was on fire, and you ran your fingers along your throat. You had been throttled back to consciousness in a state of sheer fright, the ringing of Loki's cackling ringing in your ears.

His hands had been shackled around your throat; squeezing at the pulsing arteries, blood vessels shattering. You tried to scream but your crushed windpipe wouldn't allow it.

There was one place that you could go to clear your head, to get rid of the recollection of blackening sight and malicious green eyes lowering down over your body. The highest balcony in the palace was your favourite, it watched over every inch of Asgard. So you climbed out of bed, legs still very much jellified and your heart beating a million miles an hour.

The palace was quiet, gentle candlelight and hushed crackles of torches lined the walls casting a warm healthy glow across the marble floor. Despite the warmth casted from the walls, the marble mimicked a bath of ice water.

Your legs felt heavy, but the overwhelming desire for even a minor sensation of freedom spurred you to carry them up the mountainous quantity of stairs to get there.

The soothing breeze that blew through the open balcony doors called to you, the satin drapes dancing with the wind. The cool air kissed your cheeks, pecking at the naked flesh along your chest and arms.

Asgard was beautifully lit, the same loving glow winding through the array of streets. Even though you looked down on the microscopic citizens, the highest point of the palace was also the most private. Nobody could see you up here.

Your heart slowed, returning to its regular rhythm whilst your feet halted the tingling sensation caused by the cold. You rested your elbows on the stone wall, cupping your chin on the heels of your palms. Finally, some peace. Although it did not last long, just when your eyelids drooped and your body felt light, instant dread swallowed you whole.

"Is something troubling you?" a low drawl echoed from behind you, and your eyes grew wide. You didn't dare turn around, a flood of trepidation washing down your spine. You realised then in that moment how exposed you were, and you couldn't bear the thought of someone seeing you in your night clothes. So incredibly exposed.

"No, my prince" you managed to choke out the same recycled response you were taught to use - addressing them respectfully - your face burning. But there was, and the two of you knew exactly who was troubling you. You could hear the lazy smile through his voice, utterly delighted that he had caught you so vulnerable.

"I don't take too kindly to liars," his words flung at your back like icy daggers, the echo looming closer now than it did before. Still you stunted the courage it took to look him in the eyes, ones you had become so used to connecting with, even when his towering frame became visible just at the corner of your vision.

"I don't know what you're talking about," another lie, and this time you didn't quite care enough to keep up the respectful act. You felt brave up here, a new invigoration of hopeful drive when the breeze of the night swept through your hair. He seized your wrist, taking the other in his large slender hands when you had fully turned to him.

You had never been this near, so up close and personal with the one person you couldn't stand but also couldn't avoid no matter how hard you tried.

You could smell the mint on his breath that softly fanned your face, and he was so much taller than you had anticipated. Surprisingly, you weren't frightened for your life as you expected if you ever had a physical altercation. In fact, you were even more drawn to him.

"I'd choose your next words carefully," he sneered, his emerald eyes glowed under the moonlight, pale skin transparent. You never denied that he was handsome, beautiful even.

This new boundary paired with physical touch lit fireworks in your brain, you couldn't remember the last time you touched someone. No friendly embraces, no soothing hands on a shoulder, no pinky promises. Years you had been starved from one of the most primal needs.

He watched your face twist, scanning his own, your eyes raking over him in a frenzy. A scalding wave of shame washed over you, the way you were thinking of him in that moment was against anything your heart and mind had ever told you were in your best interests.

Though you couldn't deny that his lingering stare bore through you, much more than it had before. He was calculating, trying to make sense of the thoughts spinning in his head. He had wanted this for so long.

You and him. Alone together.

Your arms relaxed partially in his grasp. "I don't like being here," you plucked up the courage to admit. What the hell were you saying? He didn't deserve to know how you felt, nor did you believe he cared. But still he scanned your face, his attention unwavering, a silent cue for you to continue.

You swallowed harshly again, his silence unnerving you. "I... uhhh.. I like being up here," tilting your head to the view of Asgard beside you. "Makes me feel free..." you broke his gaze this time, his complex array of layers of fabric that adorned his chest. He was fully dressed just as you had always seen him despite the late night.

"You long for your freedom?" He was blunt and precise, a tongue made of ice and words that floated through the air like snowflakes. This was a trick. A small voice in the back of your mind screamed at you to not answer him, to not delve any more into your feelings and personal thoughts with him of all people.

But a slow nod answered his question, internally battling with yourself aiming to not be punished for having such insolent thoughts. Staring out into the world that you had grown up in, one you hadn't been able to explore for as long as you could remember.

But it was beyond this world that made your heart leap.

You winced when his hands released your wrists, expecting a sharp backhand across the cheek or a stern order for you to return to your quarters. That was it, he would tell his father and you would never see a life beyond this balcony. Trapped here forever. Or at the very least this 'conversation' would be forgotten about and you would both pretend it never happened, and he would continue to make every waking moment a living hell.

"Don't we all" his words carried with the gentle breeze that swept across the balcony, if you weren't so on edge you might have even missed what he said. He turned away, elbows resting on the stone ledge just as your own had been minutes before. You weren't sure what to do next, the bitter air of the night gnawing at your skin again.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, running your fingers over your upper arms to try and grant some new warmth. Loki's gaze wandered over the streets of Asgard, and amidst the silence you were able to be still and watch him. His expression remained blank, impassive. You knew yourself that you were incredibly easy to read, but you could not work him out.

When he wasn't eyeing you like wounded prey, you found yourself comfortable enough to notice his features. The hollow dip that rested under his cheekbones, the sliver of scar tissue that sat along the very top of the bridge of his nose - little enough to be easily missed, midnight black brows sitting heavy over his lids, the very small contrasting flush of baby pink along his cheeks.

In that small window to his own thoughts, you knew more about the cold prince from that quick response than you ever had in the years you had been here. For a few seconds, you weren't fearful of him.

Maybe the honesty sparked a sense of confidence, as you leant forward and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. Though his jaw tensed, and that terror rapidly came flooding back.

You went to take your hand away, but he placed his large palm over the back of it before you had the chance to. Green irises flicked to the stone wall before him, cool fingertips grazing the back of your hand, over the grooves of tendons to smooth over your knuckles. Your heart thundered in your chest, not daring to breathe.

It was clear then that you both had one thing in common. You were starved of touch. The two of you craved it. You visibly shuddered, from both the odd sensation of Loki gently dancing his fingers over your skin and the biting wind that was becoming icier by the minute. But maybe it was because your skin was on fire, cheeks furiously burning.

He titled his head so he could scan your face from over his shoulder. Not that you noticed, your stare was fixed to his fingers that continued to ghost over your flesh, eyes wide and mouth barely agape. He grinned, tongue wetting the corner of his lips.

He didn't plan on opening up to you, if you even wanted to class it that way. But the response he had gained from doing so was beyond his wildest dreams.

He turned to you now, and your breath caught in your throat when his slender fingers moved from your hands to the teetering edge of your jawline. His cool fingertips made you shudder, and you watched as his glimmering eyes followed every tiny movement.

Thumb pads grazed just under your cheekbones, every breath had been seized from your lungs, fearing that you would be mauled by the wicked beast before you if you made the faintest move.

With every dusting of fingers on flesh, a longing ache resonated south of your hips. Your bottom lip quaked, hungry eyes swallowing his inviting mouth that dropped open the smallest amount, a sliver of pink tongue barely visible. His breath kissed the tip of your nose, the warm heavenly scent of spices that wafted from his garments rendering you mute.

Stars, he was so close.

He stepped closer and now your chests pressed together, the thin lining of your nightdress not leaving very much to the imagination. But all you could feel was layers of leather and cloth. You yearned to reach out and touch him, at this moment only having the power to imagine what his skin felt like underneath, how it would feel to drag your nails over the grooves of muscle along his back.

Still his eyes followed calculating fingers that swam down the side of your throat, where the bulging arteries were thundering with hot blood. You saw the faint smirk that came with the realisation of how hard your heart was beating.

The nervous sweat that beaded your forehead was a fair giveaway to his effect. Then, swiftly however still so very cautiously, he laced his fingers in between your own. "Come" Loki commanded, not really giving you an option as he tugged on your arm and started to wander back into the large hallways of the palace.

And like a good servant, you followed.

The palace felt a little less lonely with your trembling grip connected to that of your tormenter. Your jellified legs could barely keep up with his tremendous strides, carrying him as if on his way to a very important meeting. It struck you then that you had never seen Loki carry himself with such drive, with pride of course, but always so... lazily.

Down the winding steps, the walls ricocheting looming echos of the click of his shoes. You were terrified of bumping into someone, be that a guard or his brother, Gods possibly even King Odin. The skin of your back stung as you thought about the crack of the whip, scarring you if someone caught you with the prince who dragged you through the halls.

You could be killed for this. Frolicking around the palace at night with a prince of Asgard.

But you would be fooling yourself to say that the potential of being caught didn't stir an almighty craving in your belly. Maybe it was his touch that lighted your passion, or that this mere situation that wouldn't carry further than the first rise of the sun gave you that thrill you lusted after.

Amidst your thoughts, you hadn't noticed that Loki had stopped in front of you, a large exhale of air knocked from your lungs when you hit his brick wall of a back.

With his free hand, he pushed open the large doors that stood before the pair. His bedroom was even more grand than you had pictured, images that ran wild in your mind considering you had never been allowed to step foot in any of the family's personal chambers.

A raging fire crackled in the far corner, casting the most magnificent orange glow along the shining oak flooring. The bed was grand enough to give comfort to a whole brothel, and knowing the prince as little as you did, you wouldn't be surprised if every woman in every brothel of Asgard had felt the satin sheets kiss their bare skin.

Your attention was quickly snapped from the intricacies of the room before you when Loki shoved you against the towering doors as they closed. His hips trapped you against the wood, one thigh firmly pressed between your legs as one slender hand alone grappled your two above your head.

A pathetic squeak erupted from your chest, and the urgent panic that surged through every cell of your body caused you to struggle.

Hot stinging tears welled in your eyes, not quite yet spilling down your cheeks but enough to blur your vision slightly. A quivering breath left you when his free hand skimmed along your hairline, the backs of his fingers sweeping down across your temple and towards your jawline.

Any moment now. Any nanosecond he would strike, and you would be sorry for ever leaving your chambers in the first place.

He leant forward, lips barely grazing your earlobe. You were certain that he could hear your racing pulse, hell he could most likely feel the one in between your legs. "Don't be afraid, my dear" he whispered.

"I won't hurt you unless you want me to".

The moan that almost escaped your barren throat at the mention of him inflicting pain onto you sickened you, yet the hunger in his eyes and the buttery tone to his drawling drove you wild. You squirmed against him, itching to soothe the growing ache south of your hips - the thin cloth of your panties against tight leather felt glorious.

Another gasp caught in your throat when his free hand sent wandering fingers tracing along your neck, his lips still so dangerously close to your earlobe.

Your skin sparked with a wondrous lust you had never felt in the wake of his touch, the only thing on your mind being that of ripping the clothes from the body of the god standing before you.

You yearned to touch him exactly as he was you, the torture that was the slow movements of his fingertips against your burning flesh. As though he could read your mind, he moved his head a millimeter to the side in order for his lips to trail over the lobe. You squeaked from the contact, and felt his teeth in place of his lips as he sneered at your response.

"Such a desperate little thing," he tutted in almost pity, and the adrenaline that pumped through your blood was teetering on the edge of overdrive. His delicate fingers suddenly gripped your throat with a force, enough to have that sense of panic flutter back into your chest.

Your throat rumbled a moan underneath his palm when he flicked a sliver of tongue against your ear, dragging the skin between his teeth. "You like this, don't you?" he sneered, pulling his head back now and tipping it a little to the side as he surveyed you. He hadn't taken you for one to enjoy a heavy hand, he had viewed you as far too delicate to manage it.

Another squirm was his answer, blindly grinding your hips down against him. His grasp tightened, making your head feel light and staticky. He examined you with much more ferocity than he had previously, a sick twisted delight dancing in his emerald green eyes. Your view flicked down to his lips, ones he had now wet transforming them even more supple and inviting than before.

It was an unspoken acknowledgment that the two of you didn't need to vocalise for it to be known; pain was exciting. You had never noticed it before, hell you hadn't even been with a man in that way. The furthest you had ever come to it was a make out session with one of the guards in the palace gardens. You never saw him again.

"Come on, darling" he purred, this time his hand wrapped around your throat snaking up to pinch your cheeks and pursing your lips, "I want to hear you," he commanded with a swipe of his tongue over his top teeth, that damn menacing grin turning your brain to putty and legs to sand.

"Yes, my prince" the same rehearsed response, and you would never be able to utter those words the same way ever again. "I like it," you whimpered, syllables barely comprehensible and cheeks aching under the force of his hand. He cackled, low and gruff, satisfied with your answer.

He released your arms pinned above your head and dived forward to press your lips to his, slipping both hands under either side of your hair, thumb pads nicely tucked underneath your cheekbones. With this release you now had the freedom to drive your own twitching fingers forward and finally touch him.

You smoothed your hands in his hair, satisfying every fantasy of what the raven strands would feel like under your nails. One rested at the back of his neck, relieved at knowing that he was truly made of flesh and bone and not whatever beastly monstrosity you had conjured in your head.

By the way you had been treated all these years, you were surprised you weren't met with the scales of a serpent.

He kissed you so ferociously you were sure to be bruised come morning, and you fought to silence the abhorrent screaming in your head that this was a bad idea. Loki stretched a hand out to latch onto the back of your head, pulling on your hair earning a yelp in return. From this, he was able to slip his tongue past your teeth and soon he was exploring every inch of your mouth.

Another surprise; his tongue was not forked nor was it laced with a lethal poison. You clawed at his clothes, expensive well worn leather making a new home bunched in your palms.

You needed more, and Loki knew it.

He panted once he pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath as he began to trail hot open mouthed kisses along your jawline. Adrenaline threatened to drown your lungs when his teeth sunk into your neck, suckling against the tender skin that was injected with lust.

The concoction of pain and desire was almost too much to bear, blind mind-numbing whimpers and moans falling from your lips with no rhyme or reason.

Loki brought both hands down to now snake up your nightdress, icy clammy palms making you wince. He smoothed over your thighs, along the curve of your hips - carefully avoiding your most sensitive area - to settle on the swell of your breasts.

Still sucking marks of blue and purple against your skin, he kneaded the tender tissue, occasionally rolling a nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

Your mind was so fuzzy you could barely construct a cohesive sentence, the occasional mewling “fuck" and "please" escaping through the medley of moans. You could feel the sinister smirk on his face whenever he grazed his teeth a little too hard or tweaked your nipple, his effect graciously noticed whenever you twitched against him.

Saliva pooled in the space between your front teeth and lips, slender pink tongue tip peaking out. Your eyes tightly shut as it still crossed your mind that maybe this was just a filthy dream, maybe your fantasies had built up so much that you were now hallucinating.

But Loki's hands at the back of your thighs as he hoisted you up to straddle his hips were enough to snap you out of any excuse you were making to convince yourself that this wasn't real. His lips melded perfectly to your own, tongues tying together in knots and his hair looking tenfold more dishevelled than usual.

Lithe fingers swatted your backside that lay bare beneath your nightdress, the tips edging closer to your heat. Loki began to step back, your lungs filling with new air that you gasped for between passionate kisses now that you weren't cemented between a God and a door.

You realised where you were going when you were thrown back against the satin sheets, almost disappearing into the feather down covers. There you lay, paralysed, looking towards the end of the bed at the God that had your fate in the palms of his hands.

Loki licked his lips, raking his hungry gaze over your frame that now lay poised like a wounded animal beneath him. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, now palming the prominent bulge in his palms. You held your gaze there, watching him stroke himself beneath the cloth, your heartbeat thudding fiercely in both your chest and cunt.

"Take it off" he quipped, a demand more so than a request, one where you didn't dare tempt the consequences that lay ahead if you refused. You froze again, shaking breaths catching in your throat as you thought about being displayed nude on his bed.

"Don't make me tell you again, lover" he warned, eyes growing darker as his lowered brow threatened to swallow them, his thumb swiping over where you imagined the tip of his cock to be.

You gulped, attempting to calm your nerves and cease your quivering fingers, but his eyes glinted when he saw you wince.

Little by little, near agonisingly slowly, you pulled on the knots that held your nightdress in place across your chest, allowing the cloth to drop down exposing the top half of your body. An appeased humming rumbled in his throat when you shimmied out of the garment, making a note to cross your legs so your most intimate region was cloaked from his view.

Now that you were fully bare beneath him, him still being fully clothed sent an inferno of cold shame washing over you, and you thought best to cover yourself. For a brief moment, being so vulnerable in front of him twinged a small ounce of regret. Maybe this was a mistake.

It was only when Loki moved forward to skate his large hands over your naked legs, peeling them apart and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake that those doubting thoughts were snuffed out. Especially when he said what he did next.

You leant back on your palms and shifted your hips when his hands settled on your thighs, his eyes wide and wandering, eager to see you in all of your glory. "You're so beautiful" his voice rendered a whisper, as if he almost didn't mean to say it.

"What did you say?" you blurted out stupidly, butterflies lurching in your chest, head spinning and stomach churning. You balanced on the thinnest beam between being afraid of him and so terribly confident in his presence, not knowing where you stood and never too sure whether your next words would earn you a smack round the face.

"You are truly, exquisitely, beautiful" Loki accentuated every syllable of the last word, the compliment vaporising every breath you dared to take afterwards. This was too good to be true, you would soon wake up laying in your chambers with your hand frustratedly thrusted between your legs.

But it was reality. Sinfully and wickedly true.

A new surge of conviction lighted in every cell of your body, testing this new whisp of trust that had been created this night. You rose from your position, the prince rising with you and standing eagerly awaiting your next move at the end of the bed.

Now propped up on your knees, you shifted forward so you were almost touching chests, the top of your head reaching the tip of his chin. Despite your figure within his reach and there for the taking, Loki did not take the opportunity. Instead, he watched as you skated your fingertips beneath his coat made of the finest Asgardian leather.

He allowed you to move the material back off his shoulders, smoothing down his arms and finally folding it neatly beside you. You didn't wish to upset him, otherwise his garments would swiftly end up in shreds in a pile on the floor. Next came his chest piece, which easily slid over his head to expose a cream linen shirt.

Without the fine garments, he appeared gentle, looking spectacularly less menacing than the ensemble of charcoal, glittering gold and forest green made him appear. You brushed beneath the collar of the shirt, resisting the urge to tear it open.

A shaky inhale. You tugged the corner of your lip between your teeth, as if you were discovering a new planet, exploring uncharted waters. You trailed your hands to roll the strands of his hair that fell forward between your fingertips.

You looked up and your eyes met again, his expression emotionless, yet his irises held every star in the galaxy. His eyes have seen more heartache and bloodshed than you cared to know. You knew that deep within, there was good in him.

His breathing shallowed, nostrils flaring as he allowed you to flatten a palm against his chest to feel the racing pulse. Whether it be nerves - which you were certain it wasn't - or that he too was barely hanging on a thread, you were instantly alleviated in the knowledge that it was not only you whose heart was near bursting.

Though your time to explore the little amount of flesh he lay bare had expired, as you were pushed back down onto the bed. Loki caught your ankle as you fell, dragging you to the very edge of the bed where he held your legs open for him. "Look at you..." he purred, examining your slick heat.

Never had anybody other than yourself laid eyes on your most intimate parts, and your cheeks reddened instantly. You wanted to snap your legs closed, but that wasn't an option against the heavy weight of his hands that pried them open.

"So wet for me" he hummed just as one finger brushed over your clit. A pitiful wheeze escaped you, tossing your head back against the sheets. Loki grinned, "So sensitive" he mocked, his tone maddeningly annoying yet so sickeningly enticing all at once. He inched closer to the bud again, this time paying closer attention to swiping down towards your entrance.

He circled your dripping heat for a minute, enjoying the odd squeak and jolt when he caught the hood of your clit, collecting enough wetness to allow his fingers easier access.

Your eyes snapped open and your hand flew to his to halt him. "I've never..." you stalled, afraid that he would laugh or worse - ignore what you were about to say. "I've never done this before... with someone else".

His face softened but his emerald eyes flashed with a frightening mischief that made your stomach churn again. "Interesting" his response resonated in his throat, a rumbling gruff that bubbled to the surface. Truth be told, this lighted even more excitement for Loki, more than he could bear.

He gets to bed you and now he finds out it's your first time? What a lucky God he was.

"Then let me please you", his tone almost innocent. Then, he edged the tip of his first finger into your core, only to the first knuckle. You inhaled sharply through your teeth, despite being beyond adequately ready for him, the sting remained prominent.

Your eyes squeezed shut again, tranquillised against the sheets when the initial discomfort eased and you were met with a blissful warmth.

When he detected that you had relaxed, he withdrew the finger out again and edged it all the way in, only stopping when the rest of his hand barred him from going any further. He stretched you with delicious intent with only one finger, and you felt yourself rocking in tune with him when he began pumping in and out.

Breath was sucked from your lungs, any coherent thought running away with itself, all you could think about was the ungodly pleasure Loki was bestowing upon you. Plus he was barely breaking a sweat. You rolled your hips, and a throaty moan shredded your vocal cords when he added another slender digit.

You felt the bed shift, too focused on the heavenly sensation between your legs to care to look at what he was doing. Though it was made known of his intentions when you felt the warmth of his lips wrap around your nipple. He attacked your flesh, swirling his silky tongue around you as his fingers curled.

You near thrashed in the bed beneath him, nothing you had ever done to yourself came close to how good Loki made you feel in his moment. Your bodies worked in a perfect symphony, vision blurring and head spinning. You felt the pit of your stomach tighten, spirilling existentially quicker than you had ever done before to that sweat release you craved.

Then he was gone. His fingers slipped away and his mouth unlatched from your breast. You whined for him, reaching out to pull him back to you again. You gasped and flinched back when his lips connected with the soft curve of your belly, sucking gently against your burning flesh.

Smoothly, he travelled down to the top of your thigh, lingering there and decorating it with marks of blue and purple, branding you his own. "For years you have tempted me..." his hot breath seared your skin. Your breathing quickened, the exhales of his breath fanning against your pussy that ached for him.

"Loki..." you mumbled, shocked that you had said his name. Never had you addressed him by name, 'my prince', 'sire', or 'your majesty' was all you were taught to use. Nothing more and nothing less.

He audibly snickered against your skin, "You sound more angelic than I had imagined" he cooed, methodically planting sweet kisses along the inside of your thighs.

He had thought about this before, the exact picture painted before him was one that had previously only existed in his dreams. "Go on, say it again" a demand cloaked in a polite request, almost as if he was daring you, his voice sultry and inviting, looking up at you now open mouthed where his hot breath teased your throbbing clit, fingers clawing at your thighs.

"Loki..." you groaned with more urgency, not caring for the desperation that laced every accentuated letter, lifting your head up to meet his gaze. You almost crested that peak when you viewed him between your legs, your most darkest sinful fantasies coming to life before your very eyes. His name felt foreign in your mouth, coiling around your tongue like hot ash.

You were robbed of any sound that threatened to exit next when his tongue was on you. He started slow, the tip of his delicate tongue sweeping over your bud with exact precision. Pleasure cracked a whip right down into your toes and to the tips of your fingers, you never ever thought anything could feel this good.

And he was only just getting started.

Loki groaned against you, "You taste so sweet". His tone ethereal, flattening his tongue to smooth over your clit again and again. You gripped tightly to the bedding beside you, occasionally allowing giggles of disbelief to slip through.

You honed in on his meticulous movements; the way his tongue would circle you, to then pull back and flick it masterfully, to lean into you as he sucked that sweet spot into his cushioned mouth between his teeth.

"Holy shit! Loki!" you cried when his fingers returned to your entrance again, this time beginning to dip two digits into you. He shushed you, barely pulling away from your aching heat. "Look at me," another instruction, and you graciously obliged. "If you look away, i'll stop" he warned before plunging his fingers deep into your core, returning his plush lips to the pearl of your clit.

You chewed down on your bottom lip, back arching from the bed as complete euphoria careened over you. You did as you were told, afraid of what would happen if you disobeyed him. He suckled against you expertly, and you realised now that you were paying attention to the man between your legs - he was running his free hand over his cock.

You tried to juggle where to look, wide-eyed sight snapping from his thick length to his menacing eyes that tunnelled into your very soul. He exhaled a laugh against you and raised a brow, noticing that you were watching him pleasure himself. "Do not be afraid, my sun and stars" he whispered, sensing your nervous energy.

Your lips twisted into a thrilled grin. My sun and stars. You could get used to that.

"I'll take care of you" his voice so hushed and tender, taking your expression as a cue to dive back in, your delectable whimpers music to his ears as he sent you hurtling to the edge of oblivion.

Your chin quivered, rolling your hips as to gain added momentum to the flick of his tongue. He snapped his wrist, pushing deeper with every stride, testing your boundaries. You choked on a moan, chest heaving in ridiculous pants when he swiped over a raised mound of flesh that sent mind bending bolts of otherworldly satisfaction rippling through you.

"There we are," he said triumphantly, shifting the motion of his hand so he swept over that sensitive ball again and again. Tears stung the corners of your eyes, a new wave of pleasure igniting in your abdomen. Whatever you thought pleasure was had a new definition now, swaddling yourself in the pure bliss of it all.

It built, the pressure ballooned behind your eyes, swirling in the pit of your stomach, blossoming in every section of your body. You were right there, squeezing around his fingers. "I'm going to-" you warned him, hands flying to twist into his dark hair to keep him steady, hoping and praying that he didn't change his motions.

A curious hum rumbled against you, the added vibrations teetering you over the edge. Your release thrummed against your temples, that growing knot finally unravelling, his name falling from your tongue with no regard. He wore his cheshire cat smile loud and proud watching you become undone, witnessing you cross that plane of desire you had never experienced before.

All because of him.

"Such a good girl" he cooed, slowing his pulsing fingers allowing you to come down from your high with ease, kissing your outer lips and the inside of your thighs. He removed his hand from your cunt, mystifying gaze observing your stringing wetness when he parted the two digits. You cringed at the sight, still dazed and recovering.

He moved up the bed again, prowling towards you with malicious intent. "Open" he commanded, again you listened, parting your lips to give him entry into your mouth. He thrust the two fingers that were only moments ago plunged into your depths, cushioning them at the back of your tongue, enough to spark your gag reflex but just out of reach for you to contain it.

You enclosed your lips around him, sucking your juices from his skin in a hurried fashion. Loki grunted, his eyes trained on your mouth that encircled him as he wet his own lips. He positioned one palm beside your head, leaning down so his covered cock brushed against your heat.

A mute gasp, his length pressing against your folds. You shivered, worried that you would even be able to take him. He noticed the doubt in your eyes, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth to pinch your chin and tilt your gaze up to meet his. He didn't need to say it again, for you to not fear him, for apprehension was expected considering it was your first time.

Loki moved back into his knees, pulling against the fabric of his linen shirt to take it away from his frame. He took your hands then, flattening your palms against his chest, guiding your fingers over the curves of toned muscles along his stomach, grazing over the dark happy trail that led to his member that left you quivering.

His last item of clothing was swiftly removed, his heavy hungry stare not leaving you once. He watched as you drank him in, his cock twitching when you absentmindedly licked your lips. Then his mouth was pressing fragile kisses into your plush stomach, his hands tracing dainty lines along your thighs and up over the swell of your hips.

His lips continued to move upwards, sucking now only finely so that he didn't burst the vessels underneath. Between the valley on your breasts he traced his tongue, nurturing bruises that he had made minutes before. He stopped once he reached your ear, the stark contrast of him flitting between a tender lover to a dominating commander sent your heart skyrocketing.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" he asked, lowering his hips so that his length slipped between your folds. You huffed in response, not able to gather the words he was looking for. Inch by inch, he rocked against you so that the head of his cock disappeared between your slick lips, gliding over your bud and back out again, shiny with your arousal.

"Yes. I'm ready" you confirmed, bracing yourself for what you didn't know, a blizzard of intrusions bludgeoning your head. He reached down to position himself at your entrance, another hand lacing your fingers together as he rested his forehead against yours.

He welcomed the hisses and winces as he pushed into you. Gradually, he would pull out a fraction or two to slide back in with an ease aided by your wetness. You noticed his face twist, "So tight..." he groaned, and you could tell he was holding back. This isn't what he was normally like in bed.

He stretched you to an amount you never thought you could manage, every groove and vein of his cock tracing along the sensitive skin of your inner walls. He held himself within you when he sat all the way to the hilt, allowing you to adjust as he twitched against you.

He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his expression relaxing when you shuffled beneath him to goad the friction you yearned to experience.

He pulled out again, the tip faintly skimming your hole to dip straight back in again. You yowled, every stroke snapping firecrackers behind your eyes and flames across your body. That familiar knot began to build again so soon, but Loki made a point to dig his fingers into your hips so you remained steady.

You only get to cum when he wants you to.

With a steady pace his rhythm continued, each stroke as premeditated as the previous, ensuring to discover every single inch of you. "You look so beautiful like this," he said between every careful thrust of his hips, sealing your lips together again in another kiss.

He didn't seek to devour you, nor did he attempt to worm his tongue between your teeth, but inhaled your scent. He moaned against your lips, each one clawing its way out from the depths of his throat. Not only did it spark a wildfire in you knowing that the God of mischief was literally fucking inside of you, but he was enjoying it. He had to hold himself back in order not to hurt you.

But you wanted the hurt. You craved to know just how much power he held.

"Harder," you begged him feebly, and his eyes snapped up to yours in a new unwavering attention. "Please, I need to feel more of you" your meek pleading almost drove him over the edge, but still the risk of hurting you too much wove thick brambled vines in his mind.

He didn't think twice when you shifted a leg to drive him closer to you, wheezing with new enchantment when the added pressure ripped into your delicate skin. He shifted, then struck a thrust with some new force just to see how you would manage it.

He was pleasantly surprised when an enthralled squeal erupted in response, and in his head cursed you for granting this opportunity for him to lose an ounce of control. "You asked for it," was all he said before pulling out and snapping his hips forward again, the tip of his throbbing cock kissing your cervix.

The crackle of the fire was replaced by audible smacking of skin on skin, nothing short of ecstasy oozing between your pores and boring into him. Loki gritted his teeth, snarled when your head lolled to the side and his name dripped from your tongue over and over again.

He didn't let up once, his pace never faltering, even when he raised one of your legs to throw it over his shoulder. He grappled your hips to pull you into him, shifting upwards so he could pound you at a sinfully wicked downward trajectory.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you mewled, hands reaching upwards to grasp his raven hair and pull him into you, teeth sinking into his neck causing him to cry out and almost spill his seed into you right then and there.

But he maintained enough composure to pace himself, wanting nothing more than to watch you come undone and clench around his cock. With your head nestled in the crook of his neck, your muffled moans and profanities vibrated against his cool skin.

What he really wanted was to tear you apart, but still you were a delicate flower that for now had to be handled with the most gentle hands. There was plenty of time to destroy you in every way he knew.

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted this," he confessed, his lips skimming along your earlobe. Your heart threatened to burst, all those years of pent up tension that always lingered between the two of you now liberated to the highest degree. "Me too" your chest tore open, tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

A strong palm pushed against the back of your thigh, now one leg pressed up against your chest and the other still crooked over his shoulder. You imagined he would pierce straight into your abdomen if he drove any deeper.

Whimpers hiccupped in your chest, and you knew by the beating pulse in your cheeks and the droplets of sweat that trickled along your hairline that you looked anything far from desirable right now.

"So perfect. My sun and stars," his own groans caught in his throat, and you noticed by the urgency of his bucking hips that he was reaching his peak. "Cum with me, I need to hear you" his thumb now spun circles against your clit and your throat nearly tore open from the cry it caused.

His angelic sounds in your ear, the swirling of his thumb pad on your bud, the sheer ferocity of the drive of his hips sent you soaring back up to that other worldly place. Your head felt staticky, drool pooling at your slack jaw unable to construct a cohesive sentence, blood rushing to your ears. There you met him on the edge of orgasm, and in perfect synchrony you kept from the ledge together.

Seventh heaven met your eyes, and you came tumbling down. Your walls clamped around him, screaming his name loudly enough you were sure to wake the entire palace. He pinched your skin, grasping your flesh in clumps harshly enough to leave bruises. But you didn't mind.

Thick ropes of his seed unravelled deep inside you, binding you together in a physical devotion to one another. He held you just as close as you shook against him, the post-orgasm euphoria enveloping you both in a pleasurable warmth. Your chests heaved together, moving as one overworked machine to draw in adequate breaths to still your beating hearts.

You pulled back to smooth your hands in his hair, his cheeks dusted a deep rouge and his hairline sprinkled with the same droplets of sweat you almost adorned. "You're mine, little dove" he said, and your chest imploded. That fear came flooding back, and you knew you had just crossed a barrier you could never return from.

As shredded gasps for breath became sobered inhales, Loki slipped out, his cum spilling onto the forest green satin sheets and sleeking along the crease of your thighs. You considered jumping for joy, that disbelief rocking the very soul that swirled within you, but his final promise rang true in your eardrums.

"You're mine, little dove".

He handed you your nightdress as he began to resheath his modesty, opting for just the soft cream shirt and his leather trousers. He watched you like a hawk, stealing glances at your exposed skin as if he were to never see it again.

But he would. You recognised that this night was the start of what was to come.

His eyes swallowed your figure as you walked towards the grand bedroom doors that led out to the lonely hallways of the palace. You turned back, eyes meeting for yet another time, then you were gone.

How were you to ever pour his wine the same again?

1K notes · View notes

callmehvixie · 1 month ago

Text

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐚'𝐬 𝐘𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨…𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖.𝟒𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝟏𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The cut crystal glass in your hand was already half drained, but the deep burgundy liquid inside was still as warm as when you had picked it up and felt like Valhalla clasped between chilled fingertips. Obstinately - and foolishly you would now admit - you had ignored your mother’s advice to wear the soft satin gloves that perfectly complimented your gown, wishing to show off to anyone who looked in your direction the large ruby ring that your uncle had gifted you for Yule. It was a thing of beauty - a single large square stone set in three diamonds progressing in size on each side - but the frigid Ylir air had wrapped around your fingers like the hand of Hel herself when you had stepped from your carriage, almost instantly making you curse your vanity.

In your mother’s own words, your vanity would be your downfall.

It wasn’t as though you were hoping to catch the attention of a future husband - much to your mother’s neverending chagrin - but you did enjoy the envious glances that were thrown your way when you accessorised your finery with exquisite jewellery. Tonight was no different, and you had already lost count of the number of green eyed stares you had been on the receiving end of. Mixed with the roaring fire spitting and crackling behind you and the excellent food from the palace kitchens, it made throwing yourself on the mercy of the Asgardian winter worthwhile.

You took another small sip of wine, savouring the subtly sweet taste, and casually glanced around the Great Hall of the Royal Palace. The music had been playing ever since you had first arrived, but only a handful of couples were drifting around the dancefloor. Towering above them all, big and blonde and looking every inch the Crown Prince, was Thor. He held Sif in his arms and was moving completely out of time with the music, not that Sif even seemed to notice. She was looking at Thor with such affection - affection that was clearly obvious even with the vivid red mask concealing most of her face - that you couldn’t stop a genuine smile from crossing your own. Feeling the weight of your gaze, Thor eventually glanced up in your direction, breaking into a grin and waving at you over the heads of those around him. You raised a hand in silent greeting but made no move to cross the floor to them. Sif had been waiting for this night since Samhain. You weren’t about to ruin even a second of it for her.

More couples steadily began to fill the large, open space of the floor - you even caught sight of Odin leading Frigga in a dance - and your feet were itching to join them, though you were also loathe to leave the comforting warmth of the roaring fire in the grate behind you. The chill from the carriage ride from the North District to the palace still hadn’t fully melted from your bones, but you would allow yourself only a further five minutes by the flames. After all, you hadn’t spent a small fortune on your gown to spend the night in the shadows.

The glass in your hand now only contained the final dregs of wine and you glanced around the Hall for a passing servant, eager to free your hands for a night of dancing. With the crowd now thick with guests as the lesser nobility had filtered in, it was near impossible to catch sight of the dark brown uniforms of the palace staff, though even over the joyous melody of the music and the gentle murmur of the crowd one voice drifted easily and smoothly over it all.

“I specifically instructed the guards not to let any riff raff through the doors tonight.”

Loki.

Still with your back to him, you rolled your eyes. “This was clearly after you bribed your way in then?” you said, turning to give him a lazy glance. “Did they even recognise you outside Thor’s shadow?”

You saw his lip twitch beneath the deep black silk of his mask and bit back a smirk. “I could ask the same of you. How did you manage to get in tonight without your father? You’re so irrelevant I sincerely doubt anyone in this room knows who you are without the Duke.”

It was a barb meant to cut, but it only had you laugh softly into your glass. You didn’t care for fame or notoriety, didn’t care that no one in Asgard outside the nobility likely knew your name. Your father was the Duke, the one who sat on Odin’s security council and was likely up to his eyes in the blood of innocents. You couldn’t care less if people didn’t make the connection between you and him. In fact, you almost welcomed it.

“Perhaps I prefer it that way. Not all of us crave the attention of strangers because daddy doesn’t love us.” You took a final sip of your wine, turning your eyes from him and back to the crowd gathered in front of you.

You swore you heard him hiss quietly through his teeth, but otherwise, he remained silent. There was little more than a foot between you both - the soft scent of cedarwood and patchouli filled your senses with every inhale - and you despised how your heart skipped at realising just how little space separated you from him. All you really had to do was reach out your fingers…

But you didn’t. Because it was Loki. He was your lifelong annoyance.

And your greatest love.

A man in brown uniform drifted past and you set your glass firmly on the tray he held aloft, eagerly scanning the crowd for the first person who would ask for your hand, something that Loki’s keen eyes didn’t miss.

“Perhaps you would like to dance?” he asked. Behind the heavy sarcasm you almost swore you heard a genuine question.

You cocked one eyebrow at him. “With you?” you replied, and adopted the sweetest smile you could. “I’d rather be Odin’s groom of the stool.”

“We are feeling rather feisty tonight,” he replied instantly, a bite beginning to creep into his voice.

“I blame it on the company I’m being forced to keep,” you shot back. Across the way, you caught the eye of some minor noble - all blonde and big muscle and so completely not your type - but you smiled coyly at him in invitation. He quickly began to weave through the crowd and you turned to Loki with a smug little grin. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to spend some time with someone who doesn’t turn my stomach.”

You didn’t pause to see his reaction, but let the man sweep you into his embrace and only half listened as he introduced himself as Frode. Up close, you realised that he wasn’t as handsome as you had first believed. Even with the mask, you noticed the deep, jagged scar that ran down his right cheek and when he smiled, you saw that he was missing a tooth.

“A beautiful gown, my lady,” Frode commented, his voice rough and gravelly. You bristled when his eyes lingered a little too long on your cleavage.

His hand was large and clammy in yours and you fought the urge to grimace as he clutched you. He didn’t possess the refined elegance you knew Loki would have shown if he had been the one turning you around the floor. A glance over Frode’s large shoulder showed Loki still with his eyes locked on you both, so you gave the man your most winning smile.

“It suits the season! And compliments your own outfit perfectly!” you added, tracing a hand along his muscular upper arm while keeping Loki pinned in the corner of your eye.

He still hovered along the edge of the floor, eyes glued to you and Frode, but standing a little more rigidly than when you had left him. You may have been able to convince yourself that he actually cared, but when Frode twirled you around in his direction again, Loki was nowhere to be seen.

Desperately, you tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that echoed in your chest.

Frode continued moving you both haphazardly around the floor, colliding with a few other guests and talking about the Norns knew what. You laughed when you needed to but otherwise failed to listen to a single word he said. You were too focused on trying to locate Loki in a sea full of guests. A difficult task given how he could master the art of being invisible in a crowd until he wanted to be seen.

You were only half listening as Frode’s rough voice continued to drone on relentlessly. He could have been warning you about an imminent invasion from Midgard, or telling you of his perverted fantasies involving the Dark Elves, but you only gave him a simpering little laugh whenever there was a pause in the conversation. The man likely thought you were simple but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You wanted nothing more than for the song to end so you could escape. Hel, you’d dance with Odin himself if it meant you could be free from Frode’s clammy grip and the stench of ale that seemed to permeate from his every pore.

How had this seemed like a good idea?

“The younger prince is headed this way,” Frode suddenly growled, his blue eyes growing dark while he tightened his grip on your hand. You fought the urge to yank it from his grip. “If I were Odin I’d cast the little runt out. What use is he to the Court?”

The ghost of a smirk that appeared on his face indicated that he was waiting for you to agree or simply laugh at his remark, so it was entirely unexpected when the sole of your foot landed roughly on the tip of his boot. He abruptly relinquished his hold on you and his deep groan of pain caused a passing couple to look on in alarm.

“My apologies, my lord!” you cried out, biting back a smile at the deep grimace of pain he still wore. “I do get very clumsy after a few glasses of wine! Are you well?”

A quiet rumble of laughter from behind told you Loki was now at your back and you ignored how inwardly pleased you were that he had seen the whole spectacle.

“Perfectly!” Frode replied, sounding somewhat strained as he righted himself.

The music had come to a sweeping end and he looked to you in silent expectation that you would join him for another dance, but Loki quickly interjected before he had the opportunity to speak.

“You should rest, Bjørson. That looked like it hurt,” he said smoothly, and you saw Frode’s cheeks grow slightly pink.

“I’m fine, Your Highness,” he practically spat out the words.

Loki hummed and outwardly looked completely unfazed, but his cool fingers wrapped around the bend of your elbow and sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. “Perhaps, but the lady promised her next dance to me,” he said quietly, the words sounding vaguely like a threat.

“I did no such thing!” Instantly, you rounded on him, but for the life of you you didn’t know why. You’d sooner dance with anyone than return to Frode.

Loki looked at you the way one would look at a child that’s said something mildly amusing. “Poor thing.” He clucked his tongue. “You’ve had so much to drink already that you can’t remember. Unsurprising, really, when daddy isn’t here to keep watch over you,” he taunted.

Your cheeks were burning and you wanted nothing more than to rip his beautiful head from his shoulders, but you still let him lead you easily to the middle of the floor as the music began to play again. From the corner of your vision, you saw Frode stalk off towards the barrels of ale, begrudgingly accepting that he had been outranked.

Loki’s grip on your elbow was firm and unyielding as he lead you further into the crowd, but you found that you didn’t want to give up the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how furiously the anger was bubbling inside you. “At least my father trusts me to socialise alone!” you snapped at him when he suddenly stopped. “Tell me, my prince, who has been charged with babysitting you tonight?”

He didn’t bother to answer, only swung you into his arms so that you were pressed snug against his chest. “The brute looked like he wish to devour you. I should make you thank me for rescuing you,” he said, splaying his fingers possessively along your back and gripping your hand tightly in his.

You hated how you noticed every little detail about him. How he was holding you so tightly against him that you could feel the rigid planes of his stomach beneath his tunic and how it pressed into you with every breath he took. You noticed the shift of his shoulder blades beneath your fingers and how his eyes were the same shade of green as your favourite blanket draped across your bed. He was so solid and strong and fingers curled around yours so perfectly…

But you couldn’t think about that. He was your lifelong annoyance.

“You won’t make me do anything,” you said sweetly as he turned you effortlessly around the floor. For a brief second, you were caught up in how perfectly his emerald green evening wear complemented your golden gown as it swirled around his feet, caught up in how perfect the two of you must no doubt look to anyone who may look your way.

It was a shame, almost, that you were what you were.

Loki’s lips twitched at your comment and his eyes darkened over as they held yours. A pleasant tingle thrummed between your thighs. “That sounds like a challenge, darling,” he purred, pulling you even tighter against him. He rested his cheek against your temple until his lips were grazing your ear. “And I do love a challenge.”

Your hand twitched only a fraction in his, but you knew Loki would catch a movement even that tiny. You prayed he hadn’t caught the sharp intake of breath or could feel the frantic pounding of your heart with how tightly you were pressed against him. He couldn’t know how his words only fanned the ferocious flame that was flickering between your thighs, or how badly you wanted him to press you against the nearest hard surface and have his way with you.

You loathed him, yet you wanted nothing more than to feel his skin against yours.

“You’ll have to find someone else to challenge, my prince. I have no interest in second sons,” you replied, sounding steadier than you felt and desperately trying to ignore the feel of his firm thighs moving against yours.

How would they look kneeling between your spread legs? How would they feel beneath you as you straddled him?

Loki twirled you firmly around the floor, cocooning your legs in a twist of gold and making you briefly dizzy. “Is that so?” he purred. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I sought my pleasure in one of the lovely ladies or gentlemen here tonight.”

Something twisted sharply in your gut, something that felt alarmingly like jealousy, but you refused to acknowledge it. You knew he’d had many partners - likely as many as you - but you had never before been so consumed with envy at those who had been his lovers, who had seen him in the throes of passion and had felt his hands wander over their skin.

You refused to let it rise to the surface and kept your features as blissfully unaffected as possible. “Be my guest,” you replied simply, throwing a glance around the hall to signify just how much you didn’t care. “Lady Kari looks particularly beautiful tonight. Why don’t you carry her off to your dungeon?”

His lips twisted in a smirk and you knew he had caught the slight bite to your words. “Careful, darling. It’s beginning to sound like you would like me to carry you off,” he replied, his voice dripping with such smug self-assuredness that you wanted nothing more than to slap his perfect cheek.

Despite how much you absolutely didn’t want it, you allowed yourself the brief luxury of imagining what it would be like to be hoisted into his strong arms and flung upon his bed. How it would feel to have his lips claim every part of you, his hot breath fanning over your bare skin, the sound of his moans filling the quiet of the chamber…

But you didn’t want it.

“I’d rather Frode take me in one of the servant's passageways. I’d rather one of the servants themselves take me in the passageways. You’re at the bottom of a very long list, my prince,” you threw back haughtily.

Loki didn’t even blink. “As are you, darling,” he replied smoothly. The hand resting on your back pressed you closer, though there was barely a breath of space remaining between you both.

You caught the familiar, musky scent of him with each inhale and resisted the temptation to bury your face in his chest and breathe him in. You could feel the silky strands of his hair brushing across the back of your hand and wanted nothing more than to tangle your fingers in it. Briefly, you wondered if he enjoyed having it tugged…

Desire was written clearly on your face, you knew, and you were suddenly thanking Valhalla for the golden mask that partially shielded you from view. It gave you the chance to study him, but even behind the half covering of silk his face remained as passive as ever, though when the music once again began to come to an end, you didn’t fail to notice how his hand remained firmly against your back.

“Good,” you said primly. “Then we understand each other.”

The smile he gave you in return was nothing short of wolfish and emerald eyes narrowed behind black obsidian. “Oh, I believe we understand each other perfectly,” he murmured, holding your gaze as the music ended and he brought your hand to his lips.

It was an act of chivalry you would have expected of any gentleman you danced with tonight, but with Loki it felt strangely intimate, as though he were showing you a part of himself that he kept firmly locked away. His lips lingered just long enough for you to appreciate how warm and soft they were against your skin, long enough for you to imagine how they might feel elsewhere, and then, without another word, he left your side to melt easily into the crowd of guests. Like a shadow in the dead of night, he quickly disappeared, leaving you with a thundering heartbeat and an ever increasing tingling between your thighs.

How desperately you loathed him.

Before you had the chance to begin scanning the crowd in search of him you were quickly pulled into another dance. He was a great hulk of a man with muscles to rival Thor’s and, you would admit, he was attractive, even behind the royal blue mask that concealed half of his face.

“Hagen, my lady,” he introduced himself with a broad smile that revealed perfectly straight white teeth.

You smiled in acknowledgment, told him your name, and only half listened as he chattered on, your attention firmly on locating Loki. It was no easy feat given the sea of people who were twirling around the hall, and only made that much harder with the addition of decorative masks, but you finally did catch sight of him through an eventual parting of the crowd. He was also dancing again, only this time his partner was a vapid little thing who didn’t appear to have a single thought behind her eyes.

A fresh surge of searing jealousy, sudden and entirely unexpected, swept through you like a winter storm. You didn’t even know her name or where in Asgard she hailed from, didn’t recall seeing her on any previous occasions, yet here she was gazing at Loki with big doe eyes that made you want to slap her childish little face.

Hagen hadn’t noticed your sudden distraction and continued twirling you around the Great Hall until it felt like you were inside a kaleidoscope, but you never once lost sight of Loki, pinning him with your gaze like a predator in the final moments of the hunt. When he felt your molten gaze burning into him, he glanced over the ornately decorated head of the girl in his arms, and, to your absolute fury, he winked.

It was as quick as the space between heartbeats and he was turning away again as though it had never happened, but already your blood had been set aflame. With renewed vigour you turned your attention back to Hagen, smiling and simpering like a fool and laughing at every comment like it were the funniest thing you had heard in centuries. His eyes lit up and he immediately began retelling a story of some battle he had been involved in decades ago.

“...and at the end of it all, I pushed the poor soul into a barrel of mead head first! He screamed like a pig caught in the mud until he realised it had been long drained by his own hand!” he finished a few minutes later, eagerly scanning your face for approval.

The laugh you forced was so loud and so obviously fake that a few couples twirling by gazed intently your way. You didn’t care. With Hagen so distracted by winning your approval, he hadn’t noticed how you had managed to manipulate his movements across the floor, having glided effortlessly through the crowd until you were within touching distance of Loki and the preened little poodle in his arms. He noticed you instantly, but you steadfastly ignored the smirk that flicked across the face and gave Hagen the full force of your attention.

Surprisingly, it worked.

The longer you ignored Loki the more he tried to catch your attention. Every expert twirl perfectly in time with the music had his half concealed face turn towards you, green eyes sparkling as he hoped to see you looking back at him. It was entertaining, almost, to watch him desperately seek the attention you refused to give him.

Hagen remained the sole focus of your attention as you waited, waited for the perfect moment to do what you had guided him half way across the Great Hall to do. Loki twirled around again until the girl in his arms faced you - though not without throwing another glance towards you to see if he finally had your attention - and when you got close enough, you subtly kicked a foot out from under your gown to catch her ankle, sending her stumbling forward until Loki caught her fall. She gave you a look of pure, unadulterated outrage, but you only smiled sweetly at her.

“Oh, I am sorry! I’ve lost my footing a little after that third glass of wine!” you called over your shoulder as Hagen continued to whisk you through the crowd, not missing the tiny grin growing on Loki’s lips.

With satisfaction casting a warm glow through your chest you let Hagen continue to twirl you around the floor until the music again began to slow. Over his broad shoulder, you caught sight of Loki, still with that dull little thing in his arms, and you grinned. Letting one hand slide suggestively down Hagen’s upper arm, you held Loki’s gaze while you whispered in his ear. All you had said was “I’d like to go outside,” but, coupled with a light laugh and Hagen’s hand dropping an inch lower on your back, it was enough to make Loki’s expression darken.

You saw the instant deep frown and set of his strong jaw, saw his brief apology to the girl he had been dancing with, and he was quickly striding across the hall with purpose. Something deep in your stomach twisted with excitement.

He was before you both in a matter of seconds, towering over Hagen and staring at the man with cold eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to impose, but I must steal the lady from you,” Loki said, his voice perfectly calm and collected.

Hagen’s fingers tightened around your waist and you fought the overwhelming urge to grin. You could feel him bristle, could feel the clouds of an almighty argument begin to darken the spiced air of the Great Hall as he stared Loki down. Even with half his face obscured behind a mask of black obsidian, you could read his intense displeasure in the set of his jaw and in the dangerous glint in his green eyes.

You turned to give your thanks to Hagen for his dance - a dance you had surprisingly enjoyed - but before the first syllable had even crossed your lips, Loki had twirled you out of his grip so swiftly that your skirts twisted around your ankles in a quiet whisper and you clamped a hand on his velvet clad arm in order to stay steady.

Or that’s what you told yourself.

Once righted, and with your hands tucked securely within the folds of your gown, you became very aware of the firm solidness of his chest against your shoulder, almost shivering at the feel of the soft material of his evening wear brushing enticingly against your exposed skin. It was a teasing reminder that all that separated you from him was tulle and velvet.

Your fingers twitched at your sides.

On your left, Hagen was making his irritation known, but his voice was nothing but a dull drone in the near distance, comparable to the incessant buzzing of a fly on a warm summer evening. Your focus had long since drifted from him, shifting solely to the feel of Loki’s curls ghosting gently against the base of your neck.

The familiar intoxicating scent of him - cedarwood and patchouli and something vaguely sweet - washed over you once more, so inviting that you wished you could drown in it.

His warm breath fanned against the skin below your ear, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. “With me, darling. Now.” The words were uttered so quietly, so dangerously in your ear that your heart sped up like a wild hare darting through a spring meadow. Resisting him would be pointless.

“Of course, my prince,” you replied sweetly, a thin layer of coyness wrapping around each word.

Without another word, he placed a firm, heavy hand on the curve of your waist, expertly weaving you both through the sea of colourfully clad guests. His imposing stature, coupled with the displeased scowl that not even his mask could hide, cleared an easy path through the hall until the vast mahogany doors leading to the balcony grew before you.

Perhaps it was the third glass of mead you’d knocked back not too long ago, or perhaps you were merely feeling playful at finally being cornered, but in the final few feet before the heavy wooden doors were right in front of you, you made a weak attempt to twist out of Loki’s firm grip. You were met with a firm curl of his fingers into the soft silk of your gown to keep you tight against his side, a silent promise that you weren’t going anywhere unless he allowed it.

His boots continued to hit the floor with rhythmic thuds, each step bringing you closer to the balcony doors and sending a shot of pure adrenaline shooting through your blood. You worked to keep up with him, taking two steps for each one of his, and when the double doors were right in front of you, you feared the purpose underlying Loki’s every step would have you both collide with them. At the very last minute a shimmer of vibrant emerald green, emanating from both everywhere and nowhere, pushed the magnificent double doors open, allowing Loki to guide you both through them without so much as a pause in his stride. His hand remained firmly on your back as he lead you onto the wide, open space of the sandstone balcony and when you shivered, it had nothing to do with the coolness of the night air.

The quiet thud of the doors sounded behind you and the sudden shift in the energy betrayed how Loki was using his magic again, though for what you had no idea. Slow, lazy steps carried you away from him, the quiet click of your heels against the smooth stone floor being the only sound filling the quiet as you reached the intricately carved stone of the balcony. Guests trickled around the gardens below, enjoying the seasonal display of flowers that Frigga had so lovingly cultivated and admiring the small orbs of light that floated just out of their reach, each one appearing like a snow flake that had been frozen mid fall. You would never not be captivated by the effort that the Allmother placed in making the palace look magical no matter what the occasion.

In your brief distraction admiring the grounds Loki still hadn’t spoken, and when you turned quickly to look at him, he was still standing silently by the double doors. His black mask was still on, but it didn’t obscure the glint of raw hunger shining in his eyes as they rested on you. You felt your heart speed up and swallowed thickly, practically vibrating with the anticipation of what you knew was about to come. Loki remained watching you, appearing to search for some small sign or signal.

Your silent, knowing grin was all it took.

Four large strides, silent as the night, brought him swiftly towards you. The black mask was ripped easily from his face before his strong arms were around you to pull you tight against his chest, his lips crashing down onto yours with such fierceness that it knocked the breath from your lungs. You returned it easily, parting your lips to meet his tongue with your own and tangling your hand blissfully into his black curls.

They were softer than you even imagined.

The kiss was deep and frantic, as though the whole world around you both was going up in flames and the last thing you both would ever do was taste each other. Without breaking away, Loki walked you backwards until you collided with the smooth stone, both arms tightening around you until you were all but crushed between the smooth surface of the balcony and his warm chest.

You were lost in him, lost to him. The feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him; it was everything you had imagined it would be and more.

The fingers of his right hand drifted from where they had been clasping the base of your neck to untie the silken ties of your mask, letting it fall away like smoke in the wind. He pressed you tighter against him and you moaned quietly against his lips. You felt him smile against your mouth, an innocent gesture that was quickly followed by a roll of his hips against yours, letting you feel just how badly he wanted you.

His lips left yours and you fought to contain a whine at the sudden absence of him. “Touch me,” he murmured between shallow pants, resting his forehead against yours.

“I am touching you,” you replied, bringing a hand to rest against his cheek, You knew what he was asking, of course, but you kept your hand firmly on his cheek.

Loki lifted his forehead from yours and you could see the fire blazing in his green eyes, a burning, searing flame of desire for you. He pulled your hand from his cheek and guided it down to rest on the prominent bulge in his leather trousers.

“Touch me,” he repeated softly.

You twisted your free hand into his hair, using it as leverage to guide him back to your lips. With the other, you teasingly stroked the outline of his cock, palming him firmly while his lips continued claiming yours. He groaned deeply into your mouth, sending a flutter between your thighs, and pulled back from your kiss once again.

“Your hand feels so much better than my own, darling,” he half moaned into the darkness.

“Oh?” You smirked and pulled your hand back. “Then maybe I should make you beg for it.”

Something in his eyes darkened and he curled two fingers under your chin to hold your gaze. “Darling, I can assure you that I won’t be the one begging tonight.”

The confidence of his words, the suggestion dripping like honey from every syllable, sent a rush of heat surging through you. Your gaze dropped to his lips, kiss swollen and stained a faint crimson red from your lipstick. It was barely noticeable under the pale moonlight, but it still made something in your stir, as though that delicate sheen of red was your mark on him.

A warning to everyone else that he was yours.

Your fingers still resting at the base of his neck curled into his soft skin, sharp nails scratching him gently and sending a slight shiver down his spine. “Kiss me again,” you said, not caring about the faint rasp that now edged your words.

Loki laughed quiet and low, the sound a soft rumble in the quiet of the night. “An excellent start,” he purred, not giving you a second to even glare at him before his lips were back on yours, kissing you just as frantically as before. It was as though that first kiss had shown him what he had been missing and now he wouldn’t be sated until he tasted every inch of you.

You welcomed the warm force of his mouth against yours once more, locking your arms around his neck while your hands scrambled for purchase on the rich velvet of his tunic. You couldn’t get close enough. The force of his renewed assault made your back hit the smooth curved stone of the balcony so hard that for a second you were briefly bent over it. While your hands were tangling in his hair - and you were delighting in the quiet growl of appreciation that came from your experimental tug - his were frantically bunching the golden skirts of your gown around your hips, all the while still kissing you like you were his only source of oxygen.

The cool night air wrapped instantly around your bare legs but did nothing to ease the searing burn of arousal pulsing in your core. Loki’s fingers trailed over your thighs and you whined into his mouth, the barest hint of his touch lighting tiny fires beneath your skin and making you crave him like rain in a drought. One strong hand rested against your stomach to secure layers of golden tulle out of his way while the other dipped between your thighs to run a finger firmly over your cunt through the thin layer of your underwear. You rocked your hips against it, already desperately seeking more, and he gently nipped your bottom lip.

“Something wrong, pet?” he asked, pulling back from your kiss but still running his finger tormentingly along the length of your cunt.

It was such a simple action, but you felt the sharp tendrils of pleasure right down to your knees. It wasn’t enough. “Need more,” you said, still attempting to grind down against his finger.

“Oh?” Loki replied, cocking one perfect eyebrow at you. You felt him slide his finger to the side of your underwear, using it to pull them aside and run it lightly through your slick folds. “Is this enough?”

It felt good, it felt almost blindingly good, but it wasn’t enough. You needed his cock, needed him to fill you to the brim and fuck you so hard that you felt it for days. You needed to feel him spill inside you and claim you completely as his.

Because you were.

You had always been his.

“No,” you breathed out, fingers digging firmly into the back of his neck in an effort to ground yourself. The other rested low on his hip, slowly snaking around to cup his ass through the soft black material.

You heard his quick intake of breath and saw the exact moment his eye darkened with fresh, undiluted lust. “Good.” It was almost a growl. “Because I’m losing what little self control I have left.”

His hand retracted from between your thighs and an immediate complaint was dancing on the tip of your tongue, until both rested back on your hips, stealing the breath from your lungs with the sudden surprise of being swiftly turned and bent over the balcony edge. Yards of tulle fell in a sweeping whisper to cover your legs, only to be just as quickly bunched back up in his hands. This time he folded them back carelessly onto your back, leaving you almost fully on display for him.

His cool fingers rested around the curve of your hips, the silken pads of his thumbs tracing tiny circles along your exposed skin. “Beautiful, darling,” he murmured behind you, no hint or trace of mockery in his voice.

Your witty reply melted into a sigh of contentment when his hands moved to ghost over the swell of your ass and you felt him kneel between your legs. Teasingly, his hands ran down the backs of your thighs, long fingers dancing so close to where you ached for him, had ached for him for centuries.

“Loki…” His name was barely a whisper into the blackness of the night and was chased swiftly by a quiet moan when you felt his teeth hook into the band of your underwear.

You could almost hear the smirk on his face as he expertly pulled them down your legs, the gentle rub of his nose against your skin having your fingers curl against the sandstone. They were quickly pooling around your ankles and Loki was just as easily ripping them away and tossing them aside.

You yelped when his teeth then sank into the flesh of your ass.

“So responsive, darling,” he purred while getting to his feet, the cool tips of his fingers running soothingly over the area he had just bitten. “I wonder what other little noises I can get you to make for me.”

“Why don’t you fuck me and we’ll find out.” You had meant it as an attempt to goad him, to infer that he could have what he wanted if he would just fuck you, but the sharpness of your tone and the obvious pleading behind it betrayed nothing but your own impatience to have him inside you.

Something that, of course, Loki didn’t miss. “I told you I wouldn’t be the one begging tonight, didn’t I?” he taunted, a firm hand creeping beneath the layers of tulle to lie against the naked skin of your back. “Say please.”

The swell of pleasure between your thighs at his quiet command was instant, but you fought to ignore it and remained stubbornly quiet if only to see what your refusal to answer would make him do. Below you, guests continue to mill around in the gardens, their quiet laughter and conversation drifting upwards on a phantom breeze. They were only a matter of metres below and if any decided to turn their gaze upwards towards the palace, little would stop them from seeing you bent over the balcony with Loki between your legs. The thought alone had you swallowing a moan.

Loki clicked his tongue quietly, his fingers dipping back between your thighs to teasingly stroke your cunt. This time, you couldn’t prevent the curse that slipped from your lips at how good his fingers felt. “Say please,” he repeated.

Stubbornly, you continued to try and hold your silence, but the steady ripples of pleasure he was granting you had you desperate for more within a short matter of seconds. “Please! Please, Loki!” you eventually cracked, the wet need between your thighs surpassing any desire to press his buttons.

He slapped your ass just hard enough for you to feel a sting. “Good girl,” he said, and you heard the quiet shuffle as he freed himself from his trousers. “Do you know how often I touch myself to the idea of you begging for me?” he continued, lazily dragging the tip of his cock through your dripping cunt, coating himself with your arousal.

The sound that tumbled from your lips was so lewd that you felt your cheeks flame, and you dropped your head low between your shoulders at the exquisite torture that he was subjecting you to. Over and over he dragged his cock through your folds, each time stopping just short of hitting your clit, so teasingly short that eventually, you began to squirm.

“Loki…please…,” you repeated, now freely giving him what he wanted in a voice practically hoarse with desire.

The languid roll of his hips came to a sudden stop, but his cock remained firmly against your cunt. “You sound so lovely when you beg, darling, I’m tempted to not give you what you want,” he taunted. “But I’ve waited too long to have you.”

“Then, for the love of Yggdrasil, take me!” you all but screamed at him, the unrelenting ache between your legs crying out for release.

At your plea, he curled one hand around the curve of your hip and with the other aligned himself with your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by beautiful inch until he had filled you to the brim. He stretched you beautifully and you briefly lost the ability to speak while you adjusted to his size. It was nothing short of exquisite.

When he got comfortable and began to roll his hips steadily into you, both hands now gripping your hips like a vice, you saw the remnant wisps of emerald green in the night air. Likely, Loki had cast come illusion to conceal you both from the guests still wandering below.

Something you had no doubt you would be thankful for in a short matter of minutes.

Already, his cock was brushing wondrously against that sweet spot inside you, having your toes curl in your shoes. His hands held your hips in a punishing grip that you knew would leave bruises the following morning, and a stream of moans - the most glorious sound you had ever heard - tumbled freely from his lips with each thrust. Loud, forceful moans that you were sure could be heard from the gardens down below, but no one so much as glanced towards the balcony where you both stood.

Then it hit you. The soft whirls of green magic had been a silencing charm.

For the first time in your long life, you were saying a silent thanks to Loki.

“Fuck, Loki!” you cried out, feeling as though a weight had been lifted to allow you to vocalise your pleasure. “You feel so good!”

You were close to losing yourself in the pleasure, to let it wash over you while you screamed to Valhalla, but two quiet voices from below drifted up softly to your ears and made you go rigid.

“Did you hear that?” A deep male voice asked. “Someone with Prince Loki, perhaps?”

“I saw the Prince inside a few moments ago. It’s likely someone else,” another answered, sounding incredibly bored.

Loki’s arm looped around your middle, pulling you upright and tight against his chest. “You’ll have to be quiet, darling, unless you want the attention of all those guests on this balcony. What would they think if they could hear you, hmm? Perhaps that you’re here pleasuring yourself to the thought of me?” he whispered lowly in your ear.

A groan bubbled low in your throat, one that you fought valiantly to contain. “But…you’ve…you’ve been moaning like a whore and no one has spared a second glance!” you said.

His teeth sunk into your earlobe, pulling gently and making you go near limp in his arms. “Oh, dear. Did I forget to place that silencing charm over you? I do apologise, darling,” he purred, sounding anything but sorry. “I hope you can stay quiet.” He punctuated his sentence with a firm, forceful thrust that made you bite your lip to contain a cry.

It melted into a whimper with each continued plunge of his cock into your cunt. You could feel every inch of him as he moved, each drag only sending ripples of building pleasure washing over you. While he kept one strong arm locked securely around your waist to anchor you to him, the other was effortlessly gathering up layers of gold to dip his hand beneath and find your clit.

It was almost your undoing.

He could play your body like a violin and the unbroken rhythm his fingers played on your clit had you clamping down hard on his arm to contain shameless moans. Your head dropped back against his shoulder and your free hand desperately curled around his thigh in an effort to do something, anything, to channel the burning waves of pleasure crashing through you under his touch. He continued thrusting roughly into you, continued moaning and cursing freely right by your ear, all the while your nails were digging so hard into the top of his thigh you feared you might draw blood, all in the effort of having to stay quiet.

You wanted to scream his name to Valhalla, wanted to curse and scream in the face of the pleasure he was bringing you, yet all you could do was grip him like he was a liferaft and grind shamelessly against his fingers.

It was blissful torture.

Blissful torture that he had seemed in no rush to end.

A thin sheen of sweat was forming along your hairline from both the effort of staying quiet and the brazen way in which you were rolling your hips against his hand. You wanted the release more than anything you had ever wished for before, wanted Loki to be the reason you came completely undone, and with the way he was playing your body as though it had been made for him, it wouldn’t take long until you saw stars.

His breathing was coming hard and fast in your ear, his warm breath hitting you in time with every thrust. “I thought you wanted this, darling?” he taunted you. “I can’t hear any sounds of pleasure coming from you. Perhaps you’d prefer it if I stopped?” he asked, dropping his hand from your cunt and slowing down his frantic thrusts until he was doing nothing but languidly rolling his hips into you.

Your hips arched into the balcony in a fruitless attempt at chasing his hand and you turned your head against his jaw, almost panic stricken at the threat. “No, please!” you begged him. “Please don’t stop!”

The satisfied smirk crossed his face instantly. “Then you need to let me know how good I’m making you feel,” he said and turned his head so his lips were just brushing the crown of your head. “Because I’m not letting you come until I can hear you.”

“Loki…,” you whined pitifully.

He ignored you, instead returning his fingers to play with your swollen clit and beginning to forcefully thrust his cock back into you. “You better start singing for me, darling.”

You cursed his name to Hel, but you were teetering so close to that wonderful freefall into pleasure that you sang easily for him, letting his name tangle with sharp breathy moans as he pushed you steadily towards release.

You were so blissfully close when his hand unfurled from your waist to sharply slap your ass again. “Louder,” he growled, his hips now colliding repeatedly with yours as the wet sound of sex filled the quiet of the night.

Clammy hands fell to brace against the smooth stone of the balcony while his cock hit that sweet spot over and over, and his long fingers only pushed you right to the teetering edge. You moaned for him, you whined and whimpered for him, squeezing your eyes shut so as not to see the looks of shock and open disgust on the faces of those below as he sent you soaring over the edge, his name ripped from your throat in a scream as you saw stars.

His thrusts were erratic, his grip on you bruising as he chased his high. Your name was the only sound he could make as he spilled inside you, claiming you completely as his. His arm returned to loop around your waist and pull you back against him, all while he continued plunging into you, not allowing a single drop of his seed to go to waste.

“Mine,” he growled in your ear, giving a final few shuddering thrusts of his cock before going still.

You were boneless in his arms, panting loudly and falling forward to desperately grip the balcony in the wake of your release. You didn’t dare open your eyes, couldn’t make yourself open them and see the gaze of so many people who had watched you tumble into pleasure in the open like a common harlot. Your stomach began to turn at the thought.

“Open your eyes, darling,” Loki encouraged gently, still inside you and still claspiing you tightly to him.

After a brief hesitation, you slowly cracked them open, only to see the guests down below still in conversation amongst themselves, not a single face turned in the direction of the balcony. Instantly, you calmed.

“Do you really believe I’d do that to you,” Loki murmured, nuzzling his face into your neck. “They didn’t hear or see a thing. I promise you.”

You released a breath and laughed at your own stupidity. Of course he wouldn’t. “You…are an asshole,” you said, still panting.

He hummed against your neck. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “And perhaps later you’ll punish me for it,” he said, licking a light stripe up your neck.

You closed your eyes again, allowing yourself to bask in his affections and at the surety that there was so much more yet to come. “Perhaps I will.”

Tags: @sailorholly @joyful-enchantress @muddyorbs @ozymdias @fandxmslxt69 @trickster-maiden @lokixryss @silverfire475 @wolfsmom1 @lokisgoodgirl @cake-writes @vickie5446 @lokidbadguy @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @all-envy-suyu @erynion-rogueofthegreenwoods @gortycs @katehawke @123forgottherest @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @peanutbutter-y-jams @wintermischief @gigglingtigger

835 notes · View notes