#Asgard Loki

[smirkingkitten]

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If you want to explore new fanfictions with a specific character you can click on one of the tags from this post to see all the fanfictions I rebloged with it.

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#tom hiddleston and #hiddleston are used on every fanfiction. So, if you’re searching for a fanfiction with him as a character, you can use #actor tom hiddleston, #obscure tom hiddleston, or, if is not necessary if he's famous or not, you can use #character tom hiddleston.

The following characters can be found in the tags.

Tom Hiddleston

Loki

Jonathan Pine

Thomas Sharpe

Prince Hal

Adam

Robert Laing

Will Ransome

Coriolanus /Caius Martius

Actor Tom Hiddleston

Obscure Tom Hiddleston

Character Tom Hiddleston

Avenger Loki

Asgard Loki

TVA Loki

Jotun Loki

Vampire

Vampire Loki

Professor

Professor Laufeyson

Professor Hiddleston

Model Tom Hiddleston

✨Happy reading 😊✨

Back to my Fanfiction Bookshelf

Many of the fanfictions are 18+, so if you're under 18, don't read them.

[smirkingkitten]

I read this this morning in bed. Imagining the rising sun, bathing Asgard in golden light, and a very smitten Loki was a lovely distraction from the gray weather outside the real windows. 🫠

Now, the day can only be beautiful. 🥰

Your writing is incredible, so vivid and elaborate. ❤️

por qué no los dos...soft morning sex with Loki ft. interlocking hands. i have been here rotating this idea in my mind for like, the last day.

Anything for you, my love

In the Quiet of the Morning

Summary: Soft morning sex with Loki

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 3.1k

Loki Masterlist

Crimson petals as vibrant as freshly spilled blood brushed relentlessly along your left shoulder and the expanse of your upper back. The flower - one of Frigga’s enchanted tulips if you were correct - was ceaseless in caressing you with its velvet touch, bowing forward on its sturdy stalk, again and again, no matter how many times you attempted to shake it away. The kiss of its petals along your sensitive skin was maddening, refusing to let you slip back into the most relaxing sleep you had ever had. No sooner would your tired eyes drift closed against the bright morning sun than its stalk would bend soundlessly forward to graze your shoulder again, pulling you to the surface of wakefulness before you could fully drown in sleep.

This time, you raised a frustrated hand to firmly bat it away, your fingertips only succeeding in catching its curled edges before it bounced out of reach. This time, the soft spring grass of the meadow beneath you also shook.

That was unusual. 

Asgard wasn’t known for its earthquakes; you were next to positive no seismic events had occurred since the reign of Borr, so to feel the soft grass shake beneath your tired limbs was alarming in the least. Though, after the initial tremor, the ground fell still around you, the quiet fluttering of the grass in the breeze making you question if it had only been a figment of your imagination. 

What wasn’t, though, was the incessant graze of the damn tulip. 

Again, its delicate petals brushed over your shoulder, this time with added force, and a peeved hand quickly swept through the air to bat it aside. 

The ground beneath you shook again, though you noticed it wasn’t the tumultuous rumble of plates scraping against each other, but more akin to a steady, broken pulse of the ground as though it possessed a heartbeat of its own. It quickly went still again beneath you and you closed your eyes once more, hoping the last remnants of sleep would pull you back under like a buoy under the surf. 

What felt like a return to peaceful sleep in the spring meadow nestled in the Asgard mountains quickly began to melt to black. You could no longer feel the soft coolness of the grass beneath your bare arm or feel the gentle heat of the morning sun beating down on your legs. Instead, as your consciousness waded through the last dregs of sleep, you felt the warm tangle of sheets encasing your body. 

You weren’t lying in a spring meadow somewhere in the mountains of Asgard, you were in your chamber in the palace cocooned in green silk. When your tired eyes settled you could see the skyline of Asgard through the sandstone arches to the balcony, the light dusting of pink still scattered across the high peaks of the mountains telling you it was still early morning, much earlier than you usually rose, so what had caused you to…?

Ah. 

That damn tulip. 

The damn tulip had, in reality, been Loki’s lips pressing to the bare skin of your shoulder, each gentle kiss as soft as the beat of a butterfly’s wings and causing a pleasant tickle beneath your skin. You would recognise his touch anywhere, would know blind every groove and contour of his lips. He was as familiar to you as the steady beat of your heart.

One strong arm, heavy and secure, was curled around your waist, pressing your back to his chest and flexing gently with each kiss to your shoulder. The temptation to let your fingers find his forearm and drift along his slender muscles until they interlocked with his own curled against your stomach was nearly overpowering, but you were loathe to break the spell that had been cast over your chambers in the early morning light. 

Through the wide, open arches of the chamber balcony, the rising sun had painted the room in hues of orange and yellow, as though a golden sphere of magic encased the east wing of the palace to seal you in this moment with Loki. The light danced off your hanging glass ornaments to paint a medley of rainbows on each chamber wall, each of them jumping slightly with the gentle morning breeze that brought with it the sounds of the Allmother’s garden birds below. 

Surely this was Valhalla?

The unbroken pleasant melody of birdsong floated around the chamber, mixing with the soft sound of Loki’s lips leaving your shoulder. Each kiss he placed upon you was as chaste as freshly fallen snow, but each one still had warmth blossom pleasantly beneath your bare skin. A quiet sigh of utter contentment floated from your lips before you could stop it, and you could practically hear Loki smile when he nuzzled his face into your neck. 

“I know you’re awake, dove,” he murmured quietly, sinking his teeth gently into the skin just behind your ear and sending a shiver wracking your spine. 

Smooth, silk sheets became a cocoon around your sleep-warm body when you rolled onto your back, now looking up at the man you loved as he hovered over you, the beginning of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Not by own choice,” you said, attempting to sound stern and displeased, though you were forced to bite the inside of your cheek to prevent a smile. 

Loki’s jaw dropped until his mouth formed a small, perfect “o” of feigned shock. “You would choose sleep over spending time with your devoted husband? You wound me, my darling.” 

“Sleep does not demand my attention so tirelessly,” you teased him, finally allowing a smile to break across your face. 

Gazing up at him in the delicate golden tinge of the morning, you were struck once again by the fact that he was yours. Set against the early morning sun bouncing off the sandstone walls of the chamber he looked ethereal, like what the Midgardians might call an angel. Even with his sleep-knotted curls and the last vestiges of sleep colouring his pale cheeks pink, he looked every inch the god and prince that he was. 

And he was yours. 

The look in his eyes, the softening of emerald green irises, was one reserved solely for you. “Ah, but with a wife as enchanting as mine, who can blame me?” he asked, cupping your cheek with one cool hand and letting the silken pad of his thumb caress your heated skin.

You rolled your eyes fondly and allowed him to lean in and kiss you. It was soft and wonderfully slow and sent a glowing warmth rushing all the way to your toes. Even after centuries together his kiss still elicited the same reaction in you as the first one at fourteen, the one you could still conjure clear as the brightest summer day in your memory. 

The day you had realised that you would burn Asgard to cinders for him. 

It was a depth of love for him that you fought to convey in every touch, every kiss, and this morning was no different. The kiss you returned was equally as chaste, but twice as firm, and when you felt him begin to pull back, your hands skated swiftly from where they had rested against his bare chest to his shoulders in a wordless plea. 

Not yet.

You weren’t yet ready to give up the warmth of his lips. 

He smiled against your mouth, his appreciative hum tingling against your lips and causing your heart to leap for him. The single small sound, as quiet as an afternoon breeze whispering through the grass, was all it took to have you melt back into the scattering of silk covered pillows, opening yourself to him completely. 

He could shatter you to pieces in his elegant hands but you trusted him entirely. Your heart and soul were his, would remain his until your hourglasses ran out of sand, and even then. Your soul would follow his to the halls of Valhalla or the glorious meadow of Fólkvanger. Even death would not make you part from him. 

Even with having him so present, so solid beneath your fingertips, your heart still cried out for him, for more of him. Eager arms snaked across the soft, pale skin of his back, gently coaxing him closer even though you were practically skin on skin. Wordlessly, he followed, settling easily between your spread legs while keeping his lips sealed to yours, refusing to be apart from you for even the breath of a second. One hand rested by your side against the mattress, while the other drifted to the outside of your right thigh, toying with the intricate lace at the bottom of your nightgown. 

You sucked in a breath when you felt his fingers slip beneath the soft satin, tracing nonsensical patterns along your heated skin until they reached the curve of your hip. It was a silent question, a wordless “may I?” despite his having your consent as long as there was breath in your lungs. Unable to swallow the laughter that bubbled in your throat, you begrudgingly broke his kiss to see the quiet request burning in his green eyes.

“Already?” you teased him, though you burned for him just as hard. 

His smile was soft and heartwarmingly lopsided as he gazed at you. “My darling love, you know I can never get enough of you.” 

The obvious sincerity of his words coupled with the sheer intensity swirling in his eyes had a burning flame flicker beneath your cheeks. Several centuries of life behind you both and yet a few well chosen words had the power to make you as giddy as when the flame of your love had only just been lit.

“There’s no need to butter me up, my prince. I’m already yours.” You removed your left hand from where it had settled on his back, wiggling your wedding ring in front of him and watching it glitter in the weak morning sun. 

Loki slid his right hand out from under your nightgown, catching your hand easily in his own to press a kiss over the yellow gold adorning your finger. “Mine or not, you still deserve to hear how fiercely I burn for you morning, noon and night.”

Something deep in your stomach twisted with need for him, a thousand tiny butterflies taking flight within you, and your heart cried out for the feel of his beating alongside it. Not willing to wait or tease him any longer, you pulled your hand from his grip, folding it over the other and automatically placing both over your head, waiting to feel the gentle tingle of his magic. 

Instead, his kiss swollen lips parted in a small smile and his eyes softened to resemble an early spring meadow. “Not this time, my love,” he said gently, reaching to take your wrists in one hand to coax them back around his broad shoulders. “This morning I only wish to love you.” 

The fingers of one hand curled into the skin at the bottom of his neck, lightly scratching him the way you knew he enjoyed. As expected, you felt him shiver beneath your touch. “Then love me. Please,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper. 

He answered without words - there was no need for them - and instead sealed his lips over yours again. In the blissful quiet of your chambers, you bared yourself to him fully. While his hands worked easily to rid you of pale lilac satin, yours twisted into his hair, relishing the soft feel of his curls against your fingertips.

In the ever changing world outside your chamber - falling kingdoms and wars between the realms - Loki remained your constant, the rock that kept you anchored firmly to the ground. In this world or in the one that followed, he would be everything you ever needed to feel complete. 

“I love you,” you said easily once he freed your lips and turned his attention to the sensitive skin of your neck. The fingers of one hand remained tangled in his hair, moving with him with every nip and kiss along your skin; the other was looped around his bare waist, holding him as close to you as was possible and delighting in the soft scratch of the smattering of hair at the bottom of his stomach. 

He turned his head to place a wet kiss on the edge of your jaw, the action making stray black curls fall to lightly tickle the dip between your neck and shoulder. “I love you,” he replied, almost before the last syllable had left your lips. 

One large hand, firm and protective, settled in the curve of your waist, the pad of his thumb tracing light little circles over your skin for only a moment before his fingers drifted down between your legs, grazing oh so lightly against where you ached for him. 

There was no real need, though; you were already dripping for him. 

Your hand slid from his waist around his stomach, brushing over the coarse hair at the base of his cock to wrap firmly around him. A quiet grunt of pleasure escaped him, making something flutter like a startled bird in your stomach. He was hard and already weeping when you ran your hand in three slow strokes along the length of him. 

“Please, Loki,” you begged him quietly. “I’m ready. Please.” 

His eyes sparkled at you, love shining from them as clear as day. As gently as though you were a fawn he feared startling, he removed your hand from his hair to place a kiss against your closed fist, warm lips lingering against your skin. “You need not beg, my darling. My love is always yours.” 

With love spilling from your heart, you watched him manipulate your closed fist until his cool fingers interlocked with yours. Your joined hands fell to rest against the mattress, Loki giving yours the barest hint of pressure as, with the early morning sun casting you both in an iridescent glow, he eased himself slowly inside you. You kept your eyes on his while he filled you inch by beautiful inch, the first gasp of pleasure that fell from your parted lips making him squeeze your hand again. You hoped you were making him feel as good as he was making you. 

“Perfect, my darling. Always so perfect,” he murmured, leaning in to place a haphazard pattern of kisses along your collarbone. 

You were certain the intensity of the love you were feeling for him would spill from your every pore. There was nothing you would not do for him, nowhere you would not go for him. He was the moon that cast light on your darkest night and the stars that painted your sky. He was the other half of your soul. 

“I love you…so much,” you said again, unable to verbalise just how deep your love for him ran, how it could likely power Asgard and the eight realms outside it. It was the fire that kept you warm on the coldest winter nights and grounded you when you felt as though you were twenty feet above the ground. 

You loved him.

When he was fully seated inside you, his head fell forward, forehead resting against yours. “There’s no need to butter me up, my darling. I’m already yours,” he echoed. He captured your lips in another swift kiss and began rolling his hips, his cock moving in long, slow strokes in and out of you. 

Loving you. 

You locked your arms around him like a vice, giving yourself leverage to meet every roll of his hips with your own, the desperate need for him almost sending you dizzy.

“Beautiful thing,” he murmured against the flushed skin of your collarbone. “Enchanting woman,” he continued, the praise and adoration falling from his lips like honey and fanning the fire already burning ceaselessly in your heart for him.

It was something you were only too glad to reciprocate. Sweet words of your own weaved easily with his until his practiced fingers dipped between your legs to your clit and brought them to a stuttering stop. Your praise quickly melted into sharp cries of pleasure that rose to fill the high vaulted ceilings of the chamber, each slow stroke of Loki’s cock and masterful circle of his fingers sending you closer and closer to the teetering edge. 

All the while, his hand continued clutching yours like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. 

With the pressure of his touch and the firm, slowness of his thrusts, it was only a matter of minutes before you were dangling off the delicious edge, braced and ready to freefall into your release. “Loki…I’m gonna come,” you warned him, flexing your fingers around his. 

“Wait,” he said swiftly, voice rough and breathing hard. “Wait for me.” It was a plea rather than an order, and you nodded mutely. With your praise in his ear and your hand cupping his cheek, he reached you mere moments later. “Now. Come with me, darling.” 

Your release was instant and blinding, making a kaleidoscope of brilliant white stars dance behind your eyes. Loki’s hand squeezed yours and you returned it with twice the force, his name spilling from your lips like it was the only word you cared to know, like it was the only word you needed to know. He rode out his high alongside you, repeating your name like it was his saving grace and the one thing that could grant him salvation. 

You clutched him like a lifeline, feeling how your knees, still locked around his waist, turned to jelly with the force of your orgasm. He spilled inside you, spreading warmth to your very core and claiming you once again as his. You continued to hold him as he rode out the aftershocks of his pleasure, turning blissfully boneless beneath him in the wake of your release and feeling the frantic beat of his heart alongside yours. 

You wished you could freeze time to remain frozen in this moment forever; thoroughly loved and held securely in your husband’s embrace. 

His head eventually fell to rest in the crook of your neck, hand still clinging to yours while he pressed a trail of lazy kisses to your damp skin. Your free hand stroked his hair, being mindful of the snags and knots that still remained from the night. He hummed contentedly against your neck. 

“That…that was a nice way to wake up,” you spoke softly into his curls, still breathless from his love. 

You felt his warm breath fan against your neck as he laughed. “You still seem drowsy to me, darling,” he said, propping himself up to meet your gaze with mischief swirling plainly in his eyes. “Perhaps you should cancel your morning plans today. I fear you won’t be properly awake until at least noon.” He claimed your lips in another blistering kiss and you allowed him to press you back against the pillows. 

Today could wait.

Tags: @cake-writes @sineads-art  @thedistractedagglomeration @joyful-enchantress @amethyst-dow @sailorholly @hyperfixating-on-loki   @vickie5446 @el-zef @all-envy-suyu

[ikol-art]

Listen to me. Change the narrative. Keep writing your own story. You got this. Just keep going.

[rosemilo]

✨️ Loki in suits ✨️

[smirkingkitten]

@holdmytesseract this is so so sweet 🤗 Beautifully written. I'm a puddle on the ground! 🫠

"Are you still nervous?" Loki asked then; eyes soft. You nodded. "Y-Yes, I- I'm afraid it's going to get worse..." You giggled nervously; desperately trying to play it cool, but failing.

He took your hand in his again; gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. "I know this is normal. I-I am nervous, too, but... Please don't worry. You are not alone in this. I'll be there - and I won't ever let go of you."

I like how much he cares and how open-hearted he is. Who wouldn't feel safe there. 😍

Hello sweetie!!!

Good to know that you've opened requests because do I have A WONDERFUL request for YOU!

Okay okay, of course for me I'm going to request Loki so here goes...

Loki and Reader are arranged to marry and have never met before (either Reader is a princess or just a lady). The day of the wedding, reader suggests a first touch with her fiance - how could Frigga deny that? So they do it. Then, when they see each other at the altar, it's as if the world stops for them both.

I left it a bit vague so you can expand but I am so excited to see what you make of it! I love you so much and please do DM me if you need something 🫂🥰❤️

~LRM

Marrying a Stranger

Loki Odinson x fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: You are arranged to marry Prince Loki of Asgard. Fear and pre-wedding nerves get the better of you and you can't help but ask Frigga for help. Of course is the good-hearted Queen more than willing to help out...

Warnings: arranged marriage? angst, fluff, sweet Loki

Word Count: 2,5k

a/n: I actually wanted to post a new chapter of 'Through the Years' today, BUT the birthday of my wonderful friend @lady-rose-moon is definitely more important. 🥰 Therefore, I'd like to post this lil' oneshot as a gift. 😊 Again, happy (belated) birthday, friend!

Ps. I'm also incredibly sorry that his took me so long to write... I hope you like it nevertheless! I love you, too! 💚

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds (Continuing in the comments!)

Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist

The day had arrived. The day you looked forward to in excitement and anticipation, but also with fear and nervousness. Your wedding. Your arranged wedding, to be precisely.

You were a princess. Only daughter of the king and queen of Vanaheim. And due to the royal blood pumping through your veins, you were not allowed to choose the man you'd marry. The man would be chosen for you. At first, you didn't approve of this and were literally appalled by the mere imagination of marrying a strange man you had never seen before, but your mother and all your tutors had quickly put you in your place.

There was no way out of this - and you had to accept that. It was your fate. Your destiny. The destined path for a princess.

This is not of importance, sweetheart. You don't have to meet your future husband, in order to marry him.

A few centuries ago, when you had reached womanhood, your marriage was arranged and announced within the kingdom. You were bespoken to king Odin's and queen Frigga's youngest son... Prince Loki of Asgard.

Throughout all the years you had never met your betrothed.

That is the man I shall marry?

That was what your mother had answered to your question if you could meet the prince you were going to marry.

So, the topic was off the table. You had been taught to obey your mother, so why would you dare to ever ask her again? The decision was made. No meant no. You only ever heard stories of your future husband... That he was quite special - and not in the good way. Most people spoke of his mischievous and cunning nature. Some even said villainous, brute and rebellious. To hear those words scared you.

You had dreamed of true love and romance. Of being courted and wooed. You dreamed of a sweet, kind man who would treat you like you deserved - and not of a brute who would treat you like his maid. You spent endless sleepless nights within your chambers, thinking about your future with Loki. What if he truly was just a harsh, mischievous scamp? What if your dreams were about to shatter?

And now, suddenly the moment had come...

But then you started to hear other stories of Loki Odinson as well. About how charming and witty he is. How gentlemanly and eloquent. And how utterly handsome he shall look.

You were torn. Torn by every story they told you - and the worst part was that you never got to find out what the truth was and which talk was cheap. At least not until the day you would marry him. It left you a mess.

You were standing in a huge chamber in the royal palace of Asgard. The room bustled with maids, who were preparing everything to get you ready for the wedding ceremony. You nervously fumbled your fingers; constantly tugging at the soft fabric of your wine red dress. Your mother had just left the room along with your father; leaving you and your troubled mind alone.

From the first encounter with Frigga, you could tell that she had a heart of gold. She was so kind and lovely. Perhaps the most good-hearted person you ever met. You got along with your future mother-in-law instantly. She had welcomed you with open arms. And right in that moment, you couldn't picture another way out.

You couldn't deny the anxiety any longer. It hit you full force; realisation dawning on you like the sun... I can't marry a man I never saw in my life.

So, you decided to order a maid to fetch the only person you hoped would be kind enough to help you. Queen Frigga. The Allmother. You and your family had arrived about a week ago and even in that week you never got to see Loki. Only the king and queen. Not the princes.

Frigga gently took your hands in hers and led you over to the bed; sitting down with you. "What is the matter, dear? The fear within you is stronger than your nervousity. I can feel it." You swallowed hard, "I- It's... It's just..." and had to take a deep breath. "I'm afraid of marrying a man I never saw in my life. I-I know that this is not of importance and probably even forbidden, but-" A radiant smile forming on the queen's lips interrupted you. You furrowed your brows; were confused. Even more when she started to chuckle.

Only a few moments passed, before the young maid returned to your chambers; following the queen.

"Y/N, my dear..." She immediately walked up to you. "You called for me?" You just nodded; anxious eyes meeting Frigga's beautiful blue ones. "I-I did. Could we... Could we talk in private?" "Of course!" She reassured you, then clapped her hands twice. "Would you all please leave and give us some privacy?" All the maids stopped in their tasks and immediately rushed to leave your chambers.

"My son requested the exact same. Barely before you called me to your chambers, I sat with Loki and spoke about this with him as well. I guess you are quite similar in that case." She chuckled again and reached for your hand again. You just stared at her; not quite believing what she just said. "I understand you, dear. I couldn't do such a thing either. Back when I had to wed my husband, I demanded to at least see him and share a few sentences with him beforehand as well. It helped me to adapt to the situation I was in. Therefore, I can't deny yours, neither my son's wish." Frigga stood up and offered you her arm. "Come on."

You swallowed hard; feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest, as you approached the little pavilion.

You blinked; were utterly speechless. You knew Frigga would understand you, but that... That wasn't something you anticipated to happen. Still a bit stunned, you stood up and took her offer. She led you out of your chambers, down several hallways you had never seen before, until you were outside the palace and had reached a beautiful garden. She stopped, nodding towards a small pavilion quite a few meters away, which was surrounded by rose bushes and cherry trees.

"My son is waiting for you in the pavilion." Frigga let go of your arm and gave you a smile. "You have about an hour before the maids will return to get you both ready for the ceremony. Make sure to be back at your chambers by that time." With a wink and a soft pad on your arm, she turned around and left.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Carefully - almost shyly, you peeked around the corner.

A man was standing in the middle of the small pavilion, with his back towards you; hands clasped behind his lower back. You could see that he was wearing a green tunic and black leather boots. Gold accents highlighted his whole outfit.

He had long hair - as black as the feathers of a raven. It fell in soft curls over his shoulders. Your gaze climbed up and down his body. He was tall. Norns, he was so tall - and his hands were big. You could tell. They would swallow yours whole.

"H-Hello?" A dark, smooth and slightly high-pitched voice spoke. "A-Are... Are you Princess Y/N?" You could tell by his voice that he was nervous, too. Probably even afraid - just like you.

You didn't even notice how your mouth fell agape. Or how you made another small step forwards; totally enhanced by the God you saw standing in front of you.

Barely after you set one foot in front of the other, a small twig snapped underneath the weight of your body. You flinched - and the man quickly turned to face you; flinching the slightest bit as well. The gust which was created by Loki's quick spin was sent directly into your direction and no second later, his scent hit you; invaded your nostrils... Leather, something dark and musky, charred wood and a slight hint of mint and something fruity. It smelled so rich, so divine, but also so addictive and cosy. You almost fainted.

You needed a moment to get yourself together. "Y-Yes, I-" Your words faded into a gasp as your eyes met his for the first time ever. He had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. Blue like water and as deep as the oceans. They held so many emotions. Nervousity and fear, but also curiosity and excitement. But above all kindness - the same kindness which sparkled within his mother's eyes.

Loki smiled and took a few cautious steps towards you. "It is my utmost pleasure to meet you, my princess." He gathered a bit of his bravery and hesitatingly reached for your hand, taking it gently in his. With a soft bow, he bestowed a small kiss upon your knuckles; soft, smooth lips brushing against your cold skin. A shudder rippled through you.

"The- The pleasure is a-all mine, my prince." You more or less stammered out, now utterly distracted by his chiselled facial features. High cheekbones, sharp jawline and a perfectly shaped nose. Norns, you thought. He looks like carved out of marble.

Loki gave you a smile. "Thank you for agreeing to this little... secret meeting. I-I just had to see you before the ceremony, I-" You gave his hand - which still enveloped yours a soft squeeze. "I know. I felt the same way." A nervous chuckle left his lips, followed by an even bigger smile. "That makes this situation so much easier..." You reciprocated his smile. "Indeed, my prince."

You took a seat on the small, cosy bench and decided to use the time you had left to talk and get to know each other at least a little bit, before you'd become husband and wife. It was exactly what you - and Loki needed. But especially, it calmed your fears of marrying a brute, despiteful man. They had been wrong... Oh so wrong. Loki was not like that. He was like you hoped he'd be. Kind, gentlemanly, sweet - and utterly romantic. His heart may be battered and bruised, but you could feel that this man would do everything to be a good, loving husband for you.

The hour flew by way too fast; within the blink of an eye and soon it was time to part ways - for now.

"Thank you, my pri-" "Loki. Please... It's Loki for you." That made you blush even more - if that was even possible. "Thank you, Loki." You smiled. "I can't believe I'm going to be wed to such a handsome, polite and sweet man either."

"Again... Thank you for agreeing to this." Loki said; voice soft. You shook your head. "No need to thank me. I wanted this, too, you know..."

Silence settled over the both of you, until he let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "I can't believe I'm marrying such a beautiful, kind-hearted woman in barely a few hours." You blushed in the darkest shades of crimson at his words; suppressing a girlish giggle to slip past your lips.

That caused Loki to blush.

A nervous chuckle bubbled from deep within his chest. "Thank you-" "Y/N." You interrupted him. "Y/N." The way he rolled his name off your tongue almost send you into another dimension - you were sure of it.

His words hit you straight into your heart. You could swear it was aflame by now, burning for this man you knew so little, but were going to wed in a few hours.

"Are you still nervous?" Loki asked then; eyes soft. You nodded. "Y-Yes, I- I'm afraid it's going to get worse..." You giggled nervously; desperately trying to play it cool, but failing.

He took your hand in his again; gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. "I know this is normal. I-I am nervous, too, but... Please don't worry. You are not alone in this. I'll be there - and I won't ever let go of you."

You took deep breaths; smiling brightly. Now you could say that you were really looking forward towards your wedding. For the first time in centuries.

"T-Thank you. That is really reassuring to know. I-I won't let go either." Loki smiled, "That's good to know, my darling." and leaned in for a delicate, small peck on your lips. It was gentle and barely lasting - but it felt so right. So good.

Before you were able to answer something, his hand slipped from yours as he was passing you by; stepping out of the pavilion and out of your sight.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart." Your mother said with tears in her eyes. She placed her pointer finger underneath your chin. "It's time for you to enter the next chapter of your life. A lot is going to change, I know - but your whole life was spent preparing you for exactly that moment. You're a strong woman, Y/N. Never doubt that. And Loki is going to be a wonderful husband. He's the perfect match."

By now, you had to fight off the tears as well.

Your mother leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. "I'm so proud of you, just like your father. I love you." You smiled; swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in your throat. "Thank you, mama. I love you, too." She gave you a loving, motherly smile and left to sit with the other wedding attendants.

You took a deep breath and with the sounds of the fanfare, you stepped through the golden doors and slowly walked down the red carpet towards Loki - who stood at the altar; dressed in his ceremonial armour, waiting for your arrival.

All eyes were on you, but you only had eyes for your prince.

When his eyes landed on you, they widened immediately; his mouth falling agape. He watched how your wedding dress swayed softly with each step you took.

She looks absolutely beautiful, he thought; feeling his heart beating rapidly against his chest.

It was all you needed in that moment.

You walked slowly, gracefully - like you've been taught. It felt like an eternity, until you finally reached him.

Loki immediately stretched out his hands for you to lay yours in his - and you did. The moment you touched, it felt like you could finally breathe normal again. His skin was so soft and warm; giving you the feeling of warmth and comfort. For you, his touch was a safe haven. He was anchoring you; preventing you to get lost in the sea of no-man's-land.

You looked up. His endless blue eyes met yours for the second time - and time seems to stand still around you. In that moment, it was only you and him.

You smiled and finally weren���t afraid anymore of the future. Not if it involved the man right in front of you.

[lokiusly]

Loki gave free will to everyone, but once in a while, they would create small victories for Mobius.

When it rained, and there was no shelter for Mobius, somehow a forgotten umbrella would appear next to him.

And when Mobius went to order pastries at a local cafe, he would feel that no matter how long the line was, it always quickened when he stood on the queue.

Loki became the god of stories. And Mobius became the main character.

[asgardiangirll]

Can request a comfort lokitty hug it’s been a rough rough few days for me 🥺

Thank you (;

He brought you a present <3

[be-a-snake-stab-your-brother]

OKAY BUT THE CALLBACK TO THE THE FIRST THOR MOVIE

Anyone remember the theme the first time we had a broken bridge and Loki? Death and destruction.

And now? Life and creation.

[mochie85]

The expectations at the jól festival were entirely different. It was to be a wild and sensual affair, with you and Loki performing a dance as the centerpiece of the fertility celebrations... Your performance was meant to inspire not only yourselves, but all in attendance to go forth from the feast and be fruitful.

Not only do you have to dance, but dance with the love of your life to "inspire" others to be fruitful!!! 🥵🥵🥵 I need to see this dance! 🤭

And then how sweet he was in the garden with his confession and all that 🥹🥹🥹, So cute! Loved it!

Jól Never Be Alone | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: Hello! Enjoy this festive oneshot that I wrote as a gift for @smolvenger as part of a Secret Santa event facilitated by @fictive-sl0th. I took inspiration from a request submitted by @smolvenger and also from the Old Norse jól (pronounced yule), a midwinter festival which celebrated the passing of the longest days of winter, and fertility in the coming year. Happy Holidays!

Genre/Warnings: Arranged marriage, mild angst in the beginning (with a happy ending, I promise!), hurt/comfort, fluff, thirst, pining, smutty thoughts, language

Word Count: 3k

Three damn days.

That’s it. That’s all the time you had to pull yourself together.

To clean up the mess that you’d become these past weeks and be what the people of Asgard expected you to be. Needed you to be.

The shining star of the upcoming jól feast. You were to be the gem of the midwinter celebration as their newest princess.

That is, after all, what you were. You were married into the Asgardian royal family just over a month ago, joined in holy matrimony with Odin’s youngest son. The dark prince. Loki. A man — no, a god — that, for centuries now, had maidens everywhere falling over themselves just for the chance to spend a night warming his bed. How lucky you were to be his wife, right?

Though it wasn’t exactly a love match. Your marriage had been arranged by those that claimed more of a say in your lives than either of you did. Loki’s father and your own had devised a scheme — years in the making — in which you’d become Loki’s wife to strengthen the alliance between Asgard and your home realm, Vanaheim.

Yes, unfortunately, your love story felt less like a romance and more like a political drama.

It certainly didn't help that Loki has been cold and distant since the betrothal. He was always keeping to his own side of your shared living quarters, the physical walls between you serving as a constant reminder of the figurative one that loomed —towering and unsurmountable — between you. Short, clipped greetings are all that fell from his lips to welcome or acknowledge you when your paths did cross. Roommates with fancy titles... that's all you were. The dark, handsome prince, your husband, was never disrespectful — far from it, actually — but he never showed any true interest in you beyond what has been required during public appearances.

You couldn't blame him, not really. This couldn't possibly be what he had hoped for, when he would daydream about his own future. Trapped in a loveless marriage with you, likely feeling like little more than a pawn in his father's political chess games. No, it was no wonder why he kept his distance as much as the nature of your entanglement allowed.

There was a time, not so long ago, when you had allowed yourself to dream of a future where you sat beside Loki, as his wife. But not this way. Not like this.

Since childhood, you'd had a crush on the younger prince. Once you were old enough to accompany your father on his delegations to Asgard, where he'd speak on behalf of the Vanir at the council meetings, he was sure to bring you along. In hindsight, you realized, he only brought you with him so that you could become acquainted with Asgard before he secured your place there, within the royal court. But oh, how you looked forward to those trips! And a certain mischievous god was to blame...

Loki caught your eye the very first time you met him. How could he not? With those sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw that you swore were sharp enough to slice through your dignity. The silky curtains of raven curls that framed his stupidly handsome face, always looking absolutely perfect, no matter how unkempt and mussed they were. Then there were his eyes, glistening like two polished emeralds against the alabaster planes of his face. You had frequently wondered what it might be like to lock eyes with him during the throes of a passionate night of lovemaking... meeting his gaze as you're writhing in the sheets underneath his lean, sculpted body, appreciating the length of him — of his neck, his limbs, his cock as he buries himself inside you.

Perhaps it was foolish, but you spent those years pining for him from afar, dreaming of what could possibly be someday. Sure, you spent time with him during your visits, enjoying strolls together through the gardens or his personal library, sharing details of your lives and bonding over your joint love of books. He definitely wasn't a stranger to you. In fact, you’d say you knew him well. But you never made your romantic feelings for him known; you never hinted at the desire that scorched through your veins like an untamed fire every time he was near.

You'd tell him someday, you'd tell yourself. You would tell Loki your feelings and with any luck he'd be yours... and it was that thought, that hope, that fueled your daydreams and pushed you through until your next visit to Asgard.

But before you ever got the chance to share the true nature of your feelings with Loki, you were both called into the throne room where your fathers informed you of the arrangements that had been made. You were to be married. In three fortnights.

And your dreams of a fairytale romance with the handsome prince were thwarted in an instant. You wanted him, but not like this. You wanted something real... you wanted Loki to want you.

Now you were homesick and, during a time when you should be feeling surrounded by love and holiday cheer, you had never felt more alone.

Jól was in three days. And the midwinter festival was supposed to be magnificent — a giant feast honoring the gods Odin and Freyr and celebrating a hope for peace, sunshine, and fertility in the coming year. Your place of honor at the celebrations was especially anticipated, not only because you were Asgard's newest princess, but because you were from Vanaheim — you were Vanir, same as Freyr. And, you were one of his descendants; his granddaughter, in fact. Yes — Loki was Odin’s son and you were Freyr’s granddaughter. Your union was a jóltide dream. The people of Asgard were abuzz with excitement, chattering about how special this year’s festivities would be… thanks to you.

You and Loki had been seen in public before, of course. You had endured your wedding and the celebrations that followed and managed fairly well. But that was a formal affair; beyond a few pecks on the lips throughout the day's festivities, you could go through the motions with little more than the occasional formal dance required, as far as physical contact.

The expectations at the jól festival were entirely different. It was to be a wild and sensual affair, with you and Loki performing a dance as the centerpiece of the fertility celebrations. This dance... the sensuality was not something that could easily be fabricated. You couldn't just go through the motions. The two of you would be chest to chest, eyes locked in a passionate stare, hands roaming and exploring each other's bodies. Your performance was meant to inspire not only yourselves, but all in attendance to go forth from the feast and be fruitful.

The thought twisted your stomach in knots and made your heart ache. How were you supposed to make it convincing? And if you did give in to the burning desire you had for Loki to put on the show that the people of Asgard were expecting, how were you supposed to protect your heart? Knowing that it wasn't the same for Loki; it wasn't real for him, too...

You had been training for this dance with an instructor for two weeks now, learning the basic steps. Having grown up in the royal court here, Loki was already familiar with the dance, so he didn't require the same training. But now it was time for rehearsals to begin. With only three days until the festival, you had to practice the dance with your actual performance partner... with Loki. You had to get a feel for each other during the dance; see where it felt natural to add in those caresses of your nose on his cheek, his fans of hot breath on your neck, the wandering touches on each other's bodies that linger just a whisper too long...

And your first rehearsal was in two hours.

You needed to get some air.

As you step outside, the frigid air engulfs you and steals your breath away. It’s a welcome feeling — a cleansing feeling. And it’s exactly what you need to clear your head and collect yourself before this dreaded rehearsal. You make a beeline for the palace gardens without much of a thought, your usual walking route essentially muscle memory at this point.

Your footsteps were nearly silent on the fresh-fallen snow that blanketed the path beneath your feet as you strolled throughout the garden, admiring the pops of color provided by the hardy winter flowers and berries that were currently growing there. As you approached the crocuses, you stopped to appreciate their bright purple blooms and the way the snow clung to the delicate petals.

Despite the harshness of the current environment, the flowers were thriving, refusing to let the cold and the ice dampen their beauty and light. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you resolved to do the same. You wouldn’t let your situation dampen your own light any longer.

“Darling…?” A familiar voice sounded from just behind you, seemingly out of nowhere. The snow must have muffled the sound of Loki’s approach.

What was he doing here?

“Oh, hello, Loki! You startled me; I didn’t expect to run into you out here.”

You quickly made to wipe the tear from your cheek as you turned to face him, but you weren’t quite fast enough; nothing got past Loki’s sharp gaze.

“So sorry to alarm you, I just came to the garden for some calm and quiet. The bustling in the palace as everyone prepares for the festival can get overwhelming.” He paused for just a moment, his brow creasing ever so slightly as if considering whether to continue before asking, “Is there anything troubling you, Y/N?”

Yes. So many things, you have no idea.

“I’m alright, Loki. I… I think the frigid air is just making my eyes water.” You managed a weak smile as you lied to your husband.

His eyes softened at your words; they beheld more warmth than you’d seen from him since before your forced betrothal.

“You know, Y/N… I know this hasn’t been easy. On either of us. But it doesn’t have to be this way between us forever. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me just because you don’t… just because we’re not…”

He struggled to find the right words to finish the sentence, but the implication was a shard of ice to your heart.

“What I’m trying to say is that you can talk to me. Ours may not be a marriage of love, but it still is a partnership. I can tell that something is wrong, that something has been wrong since our fathers broke the news of our arrangement to us. It was like, at that very moment, the light inside you was snuffed out. The woman that walked out of the throne room that day was not the same woman that entered. You’ve been a shell of yourself ever since you learned that you’d been sentenced to spend your life with me. And I’ve tried to give you space… to give you time. I didn’t want to pressure you, or suffocate you, so I’ve kept my distance. Waiting for you to be ready to speak to me again; perhaps even to spend time together again, enjoying our shared interests. But it has been more than 10 weeks now and I don’t think I can wait any longer, darling. Talk to me, please. I… I miss what we were before that day in the throne room.”

You blinked at him, flabbergasted. At a loss for words.

Set aside the sheer wonder of the sight before you: the tall frame, hung with lean muscles that strained against the fabric of the emerald tunic he was wearing. A note of gratitude crossed your mind that his Jotun ancestry allowed him to forgo any bulky outerwear to protect him from the elements, so you could enjoy this view, unobstructed. Even the way the snow clung to his dark, luscious locks and reflected the garden lights like a glittering crown had him looking every bit the winter king.

This man — this god — missed you. He mistook your heartbreak for… disgust.

As if you could ever find any part of him disgusting.

“Loki, I…” Your eyes darted frantically, looking everywhere but at him. Searching the winter blooms, the snow-covered tree branches, the festive garden decorations for a sign… for a whisper of encouragement. A murmur of reassurance. Was this it? Was this your moment?

When you finally met his gaze again, you saw nothing there but patience. Kindness. But also… longing?

“I love you.” You blurted it out, pushing the words from your lips before you could change your mind.

Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears; you actually said it. Nervousness enveloped your body like fresh steam, causing you to sweat despite the cold temperature.

“You…what?”

To say he was taken aback would be an understatement. It was clearly the last thing he expected you to say.

“I love you, Loki. I have for a while now.”

“Then why —?”

“Because I was heartbroken. Shattered. You’re right, Loki, the light inside me was snuffed out that day. Extinguished in an instant. But not because I was appalled or disgusted at the thought of spending forever with you. On the contrary, I had been dreaming of that very notion for years…”

You saw his eyes widen and his breath hitch before you continued.

“The light went out because I lost the hope that carried me forward; I never got to tell you how I truly felt about you — how much I cared about you…how much I wanted you.”

His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly at hearing you confess your desire for him.

You swallowed your own budding lust and pushed forward. “And so the delicate and, perhaps, foolish hope that we might have something real someday crumbled. Then, when I saw how much you withdrew from me, I… I was sure you had no interest in me. And that broke my heart even further, Loki, to know that you didn’t feel the same way about me and yet, we were trapped together in this marriage. I’ve never felt more alone than I have these past 10 weeks.”

“Darling…” he sighed as he closed the distance between you, reaching out his fingertips to softly caress the side of your face before brushing them under your chin and tilting your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

The small gesture stole your breath away. It was the first physical contact you had with Loki since the wedding, and certainly more intimate than any touches you had ever shared. This wasn’t a public appearance; there was no audience. There was only him. And you. And the hammering of your heart.

“It appears that we have both been foolish.” A smile slowly crept across his lips as he muttered, “a pair of hopeless, lovesick fools.”

By now the smile had wholly taken root and a full grin had bloomed on his face, casting a light there that you hadn’t seen in months.

Oh, how you missed that smile.

“Loki…” you gasped. “Are — are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I love you too, wife.”

You couldn’t think straight. You could barely breathe. You had to be dreaming.

Loki could tell that words were beyond you, so he just continued.

“I’ve adored you for years, Y/N. Admired you in secret like an adolescent with an unattainable crush. Because that’s what you were to me: unattainable.”

“Loki, you’re a prince, a literal god… you’ve had a horde of maidens throwing themselves at you for as long as I’ve known you. If one of us was unattainable, it was you.”

“They were only ever interested in my body, in my array of talents between the sheets.”

A warm flood of arousal washed over you, hearing him talk so casually about his own sexual prowess.

“But you, darling… you saw me. You showed interest in my mind, my ideas, my company. You asked me thoughtful questions and you actually listened when I would answer them. I was so convinced that I didn’t deserve someone like that. Someone like you. And so I kept my feelings hidden.”

“Well…” you began with a shy smirk, “I am interested in your body and your carnal talents too, you know.”

“And I don’t know if there’s anything that could delight me more than learning that about you tonight,” he said with a mischievous smile and lust-darkened eyes that lingered on your lips before darting back to your own hooded gaze.

“Kiss me, Loki, please…” you breathed.

Without hesitation, he leaned down toward you, brushing his lips against your own. Featherlight at first, but soon growing more assured and confident, claiming your lips as his. And you were more than willing to let him stake his claim.

When he finally broke the kiss, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you reverently.

“I love you, my darling wife. And as long as my heart is beating, I promise you’ll never be alone; you’ll never feel alone again. Perhaps things in our relationship have occurred… somewhat out of the preferred order, but by some generous twist of the fates, we’ve been thrust into each other’s arms and allowed to spend the rest of our lives with our one true love.”

Your heart swelled as you stared up at him. You felt that light within you reignite, shining brighter than it ever had.

“I love you too, husband. With my whole heart.”

He bent down and claimed your mouth once again, his tongue sliding against your lips, which you happily parted to allow him entry. All of the love and desire that you’d both been harboring all these years was finally unleashed and it was conveyed in the intensity of your kiss, and in the way his hands now began to explore your body. At least, as best as they could, over the coat you were wearing.

Suddenly, you found yourself looking forward to rehearsal.

And to the jól festival.

And to the rest of your life with Loki.

Below is the request I received from @smolvenger - I hope I did it justice, my lovely! Happiest Holidays! 🎄

Secret Santa 2023 Taglist 🏷️ @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[makkarisbelova]

I love loki as a show because OB just drops a line like “sorry it took me so long to build this extremely advanced piece of technology I’d never seen before, I lost my job and my wife left me lol” and we’re just like yeah. okay. this is usual. carry on.

and also sylvie is a literal norse goddess whose dream life is to work at a mcdonald’s and listen to records like every other mentally ill bisexual with a mullet, and loki is a literal god in love with Some Guy who’s a mustachioed gay jetski enthusiast and an ai clock is in love with the guy who made her and the way time works just makes NO sense but you’re too busy staring at tom hiddleston’s delectable jawline and puppy dog eyes deliver the best performance of his life to even care

[taw-k]

THIS JUST IN, MASSIVE GREEN SHIFT INDICATES 47th US PRESIDENT IS NOT TRUMP!!!!

[jamjjamm]

Loki

[underthemexicansun]

Just a gif set of Loki smiles and grins.

[lostalioth]

𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲

→ premise: loki may seem like a cruel prince to others, strict and ruthless. expect in the privacy of your shared chambers he’s your loving master who fills you up just like you need.

→ pairing: loki laufeyson x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, creampie, master kink, unprotected sex, nicknames [master, angel, darling], small praise kink, small amount of begging, reader grabs onto lokis helmet horns, this is very short

→ a/n: kinktober 05

To the other asgardians Loki seemed a ruthless man, a cruel prince who nobody understands. Though to you, he was your loving devoted boyfriend, one who spoils you in more ways than one.

“Loki- please let me cum” you whine as your hips attempt to push against his hold on them to ride him. His long thick cock was throbbing inside you, he was currently buried to the base with you sat in his lap. He was making you sit still to stop you short from cumming. He was just as close as you were and even the little clenches of your cunt were soon gonna be enough to push him over that edge.

“Eh- what's my name darling?” He tilted his head, his voice having its usual cocky edge. The shorter version of his signature horned helmet, sat on his head still. He grabs ahold of your chin, forcing your glazed over about to start watering eyes to look at him when you don’t respond right away.

“Master!~” the proper name he wanted you to say slips out in a wanton moan when his hips thrust up hard inside you to get your attention. “Master, please let me cum, pleasssee” you drag out the last word in a whine as you beg.

A satisfied smirk grows on his face as you continue to plead and beg. “You can cum angel, you have permission for being such a good girl” he chuckled lightly and using his hold on your hips, thrusts up into your leaking cunt.

”Fuck!” You scream out as your hands scramble to hold onto something, you try grabbing ahold of his shoulders but eventually your hands settle on grabbing onto the horns of his helmet.

He quirked an eyebrow at you in interest at your choice but loses his focus when your pussy squeezes his cock. “Mhmm~ shit darling im gonna cum, wanna cum with you angel” he growls and speeds his thrusts up, his tip hitting the glorious spot inside you and abuses it.

“Master, im cumming~” you whine out as your head falls back, your eyes screwed shut. Loki takes in the beautiful sight of your body as your climax washes over you, your thighs shaking as they laid each side of him.

“Thats a good fucking girl- god angel” he grunts out as his own head lulls back in bliss when his climax hits him, hot spurts of cum slowly filling up your used and still throbbing cunt.

in the midst of coming down from your highs, Loki softly kisses along your exposed shoulder and up the side of your neck. Exhaustion and soreness quickly hits your body as it grows limp in his arms.

“I love you darling” he whispers against your neck as you begin drifting off to sleep. “Mmm, love you too master” you mumble out almost inaudibly, his softening cock still buried in you and keeping his seed inside.

→ a/n: this is short as i rushed to write it, it late by a day, i meant to post this yesterday but had a horrible headache so I couldnt even write it. I didnt proofread so sorry for any mistakes

[ikol-art]

Angy

[lokisgoodgirl]

There's no explicit YN figure in this..but we are all of them. The Asgardian weaving crone, the chambermaid, the grasping devastated member of the public... 🤣

Does this mean I need to change your name in my contacts again? 🤣😂

Ily boo xx💕💕🤭

A Lot of Boning [Asgard!Loki Oneshot]

A Link to My Masterlist is HERE Summary: Asgard!Loki loses bet and must wear a corset on a night out. Loki is very pleased about this. (w/c 2.5k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki/corsets. Smuttish. Language. Heavy petting. Spoiled, flirty prince behaviour. Stupid stuff. Ridiculous HC lore. Asgardian crones. A/N: That tik tok wouldn't leave my brain. Sorry folks.

“A-HA, brother...you have been bested most thoroughly!” Thor’s voice boomed around the pillars, spilling over the balcony. Loki raised an eyebrow, stiffening and clenching his fists while a smile threatened to betray him.

“Indeed, brother” he purred bitterly, making sure he sounded surprised. "How awful."

In the training courtyard below, Sif held Volstagg pinned to the ground, her sword inescapably pointed to his throat. “It seems I underestimated her.” “And what of the bet, then?” Fandral coo-d, his face emerging between the brothers shoulders. Loki shot a questioning glance at the thin fingers now curled around his triceps, before looking to their owner. “I shall adhere to the stakes agreed. Obviously.”

Thor clapped Fandral on the back, chuckling loudly and shaking his head.

“Brother no one expects you to parade the Asgardian night taverns wearing a corset. Norns, Fandral was only joking. Weren’t you, Fandral?” Fandral smirked, reaching for his goblet. He tipped it briefly towards them both, before sipping.

Loki studied the man’s face, watching a tinge of pink creeping up his neck. He tilted his head.

“I very much think he was not joking, brother” Loki said calmly, seeing Thor’s jaw drop out the corner of his eye. “But never let it be said that a son of Odin reneges on his wagers.” “Loki you can’t be ser-” Loki held up a hand, eyes closed towards his brother’s protestations. “But your reputation...the scrolls of gossip which will circulate. Father." Thor's eyes widened. "Brother I implore yo-” “Enough,” Loki murmured malevolently, shooting Thor a silencing stare. The blonde’s lips hardened in a thin line, as the god of mischief shook dark hair back from his shoulders.

“The usual place?” he drawled, pushing himself away from the balustrade. Thor nodded reluctantly.

“Very well,” said Loki, with a feigned sigh of lament.

When he arrived to his chambers, the staff were dismissed with a wave of his hand.

All save one.

“Wait here,” he soothed as he passed her, trailing a knuckle down her bare bicep. Every goosebump he left in his wake was a promise. “I will have need of you.”

He smirked as she smoothed the front of her silken apron. Loki licked his lips at the memory of the taste of what lay beneath those skirts, already soaking for him he’d wager. That is a bet I wouldn’t intentionally lose, he mused as he threw open the ornate doors to his garment-room. Arms spread wide, he basked in the pungent smell of leather which overcame him. It was warm, and rich. Decadent, just like that chambermaid’s sweet little quim.

He clasped his hands ceremonially behind his back, pacing slowly forward. Loki enjoyed every faint rustle of his leather trousers, each measure thump of his boot on polished marble. The sound of his velvet-gloved fingers brushing together was like the flurry of a lovers skin. All these things and more, he always noticed in the moments before he disrobed. He could feel himself hardening already at the prospect of what was to come. The god smoothed his hair behind his ears and stretched in front of him, lacing his fingers. His knuckles cracked. He stretched his neck to one side, then the other; and with a parting of his digits – a secret compartment blossomed into view.

This was his very favourite selection of garments, each handmade by only the finest knobbled fingers among the Asgardian Crones.

Although responsible for all the royal families more intricate ceremonial costumery....these...they made only for him. For his cabinet of debauchery. And they were well rewarded.

He trailed the pads of his fingertips across displayed fabrics as he moved. Robes of chiffon and silk and leather which cut and hung to his body like honey, so much so that the very sight of his immortal frame wrapped in their embrace had been known to make his lover climax. Into every sinful negligee, every blindfold, every erotic ensemble, every fluttering tail in a well-worn crop; the Asgardian Crones had worked their spells.

‘Are you certain, my Prince,’ one had crooned doubtfully, craning closer to his sketch. Her fingers shook as she did so, tracing the lines of his elaborate request.

“Quite,” Loki had replied with the air of one who did not expect to be asked twice. She observed him craftily, creased skin trembling as one decrepit eyebrow rose. She’d always been a flirt.

“I’m not sure there’s time – tis a lot of boning, Prince Loki-” she hummed, coy undertones fresh even in the creak of her voice. He waved his hand dismissively with a sultry chuckle.

“The tales you could tell about boning, eyh Lagartha?” he purred wickedly. “I’ve heard the songs.” Lagertha’s wrinkled skin had flushed a pale pink as he’d leant across the large cutting table, ensuring to spread his fingers against the wood, making the veins she enjoyed in his hands flex.

She would be able to see down the loose tie of his tunic neckline, to the shifting ropes of muscle beneath. To his naval, most likely. The scent of him, the warmth, the pure essence of masculine, sexual power that flowed from his skin to her nostrils. He watched her cloudy pupils dilate.

A wolfish grin had spread his lips. “Or if you prefer...I could tell you some of mine” he’d winked.

The crone cleared her throat suddenly, hacking. “Are you alright, darling?” the Prince said with excruciating sensuality.

Lagertha hacked louder.

Two new crones had rounded the corner at an alarmingly slow pace. Loki rolled his eyes as they shuffled towards their ailing sister. Loki returned to a standing position. “I shall return next solstice to collect it,” Loki had said pointedly to Lagertha, making a show of stretching out each leather glove before pulling it on. He arched a brow.

Lagertha, close to expiration in her chair, nodded.

The other weavers shot him dirty looks as they began a lacklustre, synchronised fan of her face.

Loki had almost skipped back to his chambers that day. And now, as he rested his thumb beneath his chin in wonder at the finished article, he felt the same elation. He had waited for the perfect debut for this most treasured piece. Oh, how he had waited.

And finally, here it was.

Fandral thought to cast tarnish on his masculinity? On his virility? On his very power and reputation in this realm? Well, Loki thought with a smile as his eyes tracked every immaculate detail of the corset; he thinks wrong. His brother might be excused for being blinded to Loki’s ability to outplay any trickster-like attempts, but Fandral? Loki had given him far too much credit in the past, clearly.

To save time, Loki peeled the clothes from his body with magic. New garments unfurled around his limbs, having been drawn from the everyday closets outside. Tight dark chinos, and a thick cotton shirt; such a depth of green it was almost obsidian.

The thrill of unfamiliar Midgardian clothes on his body sent a shiver of anticipation up Loki’s spine. They were so light. Almost like being naked. If not for the tightness. His cock ached, heavy desire throbbing with renewed vigour. The demon thickened against his leg, each wince from the cotton pants making him hiss as he screwed his eyes shut in pleasure.

Migardians and their fascination with tightness, he mulled as he spun towards the flickering doorway.

“Girl?” he called expectantly. There was a pause, before the chambermaid’s brisk footsteps sounded, stopping abruptly in front of the door to the concealed portion of Loki’s closet. Her eyes were wide in wonder, gazing around until they stopped at his feet. She worked her way up his statuesque body, legs wide and triangular; arms crossed and straining against the shirt. “My P-prince,” she stammered, covering her eyes. Loki chuckled. “Come now, you don’t look this bashful when I come to you with sword in hand,” he teased as he straightened his back. She lowered her hands, revealing only her eyes. They shone. I really should move these ‘suits’ to the cabinet of debauchery, he pondered; watching the chambermaid squirm.

He suddenly wondered how she would fare on her knees, fumbling with the other-wordly zipper, biting her lip as she salivated impatiently for his cock. No time, he chided as he raised a hand, beckoning.

“I require your assistance with this,” he gestured to the side.

He didn’t. Not truly. But Loki Odinson knew how to wring every last screeching sliver of drama from a production. And after the time he had waited for this debut, he would make it drip until its last drop.

Her eyes grew wider. “Loki...” she murmured in awe, protocols forgotten.

The corset handcrafted by his loyal crones hung perfectly lit, showcased on the wall. Exquisite boning curved the sides, cutting inward at the perfect dimensions to cinch the sluttish nips of his taut waist.

The bodice was boned to perfection, thick strips of Nilfheimian narwal tusk holding shape. Golden flashes glinted at the shoulders, down the deep V of the neckline. His richest shade of royal green adorned the bodice, silken threads stitched so close it slid beneath the fingertips like polished glass.

“For what do you require my assistance, my Lord?” she murmured, letting her eyes fall wantonly to his curled lips. Loki slipped the corset from its display, swirling it elegantly over his arms and slotting it in place, much like a reverse waistcoat. “For this,” he said, spinning slowly on his heels. He raised his arms, raking his hair into a messy bun; fingers fastened to his scalp, exposing his neck.

The back of the corset splayed open. A long thread of ebony silk unfurled in Loki’s hand. One end of the ribbon poised upward from his palm like a snake, head pointed to the maid. It lunged towards her before stopping abruptly.

“Take it,” Loki smouldered, “it won’t bite.” The chambermaid’s trembling hands diligently wove the silk through the intricate holes of the corset, each pull of the length together making her groan gently against his back in spite of herself. She was taking her time, wondering at the creases of shirt beneath the boning. Wondering at him.

Loki’s eyes closed, the press of her fingertips between his shoulder-blades making fucking her over the nearest chaise greatly tempting. She pulled the binds tighter, looping strands with a final flourish. Loki hummed quietly, clenching. “I hope this is acceptable, my Prince” she murmured, trailing her fingers wilfully down the criss-cross of ribbon. Her breasts pushed flush to his spine, her words low and sultry. “I have not laced a corset since my lady Frigga’s.” “Do not speak of my mother,” Loki moaned quietly as he guided her hand to the crook of his thigh. His cock met her palm, the resulting squeeze rewarded with a buck of his hips. He spun towards her and guided her to the wall.

Her lungs emptied as he pressed to her, feeling her digits tugging gently at her handiwork. Loki could feel the boning press against her curves, the tight outline of his glamorous armour making her struggle for breath. His lips traced hers with the lightest of touches, her hot breath filling his throat. She thrust against the thigh pressed between her legs, gasping like a virgin as he nudged upwards to her sex.

“Pretty thing,” he whispered warm and wet into her ear. She whined, bucking against him. Loki released a dark chuckle. “Be here to undress me on my return.”

In Asgard’s busiest tavern, the evening’s festivities were in full swing. Thor stared into his tankard, watching thick bubbles pop lazily on the surface.

“Oh Fandral, what have we done?” he lamented, sliding a meaty palm further up his cheek. “He will be here at any moment. Reputation? Ruined.” Fandral scoffed, glancing at the door for the third time in as many minutes. “Do you think he’ll wear a garter?” announced Sif, swinging a leg over the bench with two large tankards in each fist. Volstagg spat ale in a cloud of laughter. "I bet he wears a garter," Sif continued seriously. "I hereby claim first attempt to rip it off with my teeth." "No fair," Fandral whined. “-Tis no matter of mirth,” Thor snapped loudly. Plates on the table rattled. Fandral patted his hand with a sigh. “Your brother knows us well enough. He is Asgard’s biggest tease. He will not wear ladies underthings - not in public anyway..." he paused, momentarily taken away. " I am most sure of it," he continued breezily. "Fragile masculinity, most likely.” But as he spoke, his face simmered with excitement.

Sif narrowed her eyes at him warily, realising in tandem with the others that the raucous tavern had grown quiet. The four of them spun to face the door, where a hundred other patrons also stared, transfixed.

“Brother?” Thor murmured disbelieving. But there, in all his splendour, was Loki.

The figure cut against the star-littered sky, the outline of his body as crisp and clear as carved marble. Thick curls spilled over his shoulders, fluttering in the nights chill. Long limbs strode rakishly over the paved floor, the click of his heels making onlookers jump as their arousal fizzed like malevolent static.

His cheekbones slashed, the determined set of his smoulder making him look like a king. A demon of the night.

Simply the sight of him moving across the floor made the captive audience hold its breath. The tight grip of the unfamiliar style of shirt to his muscles, the mercilessly cinched nip of his waist which exploded the breadth of his shoulders. A golden brooch in the crest of a snake was pinned to the centre of his chest, complimenting the lavish glint of the corset piping. The god of mischief's ordained colours were saturated by the auburn glow of candlelight. Loki smiled wickedly, winking at an unsuspecting woman grasping feverishly at her friend’s shoulder. He stood at the end of the table, spreading his arms wide before clasping them behind his back. “Well?” he asked smugly, giving them a slow spin. There were a series of thumps as members of the Asgardian public hit the floor. “You know midgardian garments are frowned upon,” Thor grumbled, casting glances over his shoulder. Loki rolled his eyes. “It’s about the ensemble, brother” he snipped. “Although I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”

Fandral cleared his throat, standing and raising his cup towards the ceiling. “Prince Loki you look-”

“-Ravishing,” Loki drawled. “I know.” He cast a scathing glance down Fandral’s body, making his way leisurely back to his face. “Smarts, doesn’t it? To see me the victorious antithesis of your childish plot to humiliate me.” Sif snorted. “He just wanted to see you in a corset” she remarked, pushing her tankard from one hand to the other. Loki’s lips pursed, folding his arms as he spoke. “The evident stirring in his breeches betrays that much.” Fandral sat down immediately to the sound of raucous laughter round the table.

A crowd had begun to gather at a respectful distance around the dark prince, dozens of eyes combing over every deliciously wrapped inch of him. The air was bubbling with sexual energy. Hair on Loki’s arms bristled. He was just about to bestow greetings upon his inflamed public when Thor tugged his shirt sleeve.

“Brother, the gossip-scrolls will still remark on this…”

Loki scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What care have I? I look incredible brother, as you well know. Desist with your petulant jealousy.” He straightened, enjoying the wistful longing in Thor’s gaze as it swung from Loki’s cinched trunk trussed in boning to the feral, shifting stares of his lustful devotees. And tonight, that was everyone it seemed.

Loki paced around the table, settling his hands on his wary brother's shoulders. “It was supposed to be funny” Thor grumbled, shaking his head while Fandral squirmed beside him. Loki’s mouth twitched in a knowing smile as he watched the man run his palms down his thighs repeatedly. Trying to distract himself. He lowered himself, hovering between Thor and his misguided best friend.

“The wager did not include that we were to wear lace and brassiere and frill and garter. Although I do have those effects in my personal collection, too.”

He winked at Fandral, who flushed crimson.

The god of thunder folded his arms. “It’s just very...you” he whined. The envy, Loki mused, is palpable. His fingers curled around Fandral’s bicep, giving him a knowing squeeze. “Exactly, brother” Loki whispered with finality in his siblings ear. The triumphant god straightened before raising his arms. Dying embers nestling in the tavern fireplaces roared to life at the command. Tonight, he was a king. And the squeals of the crowd grew to a roar.

-

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